The men exchanged suspicious glances.
“It was the other submarine, sir,” said Orloff, still preserving his respectful tone. “Will you permit us to see whether it is possible to save any of the crew?”
“Do as you please,” I returned, leaving the helm. “My work here is done, and I am ready to go back.”
I intended them to think I referred to the attack on the fishing-boats. The cannonade died away as I spoke.
We went down through the water to where the wrecked submarine was lying half over on her side. Some frightened faces peered at us out of the upper portholes, where a supply of air still lingered.
It was impossible to do anything for them down there without being swamped ourselves. We could only invite them by signs to forsake their own craft and let us carry them up to the surface where it would be safe for us to take them inside.
In order to receive them on our upper deck we circled slowly around to the opposite side of their vessel. And there I beheld a sight which will haunt me for years to come.
The whole side of the submarine had been wrenched open, revealing the interior of the cabin. And on the floor, lying in the peaceful attitude of one who had just resigned herself to sleep, I beheld the drowned form of the beautiful, desperate, perhaps wicked, but unhappy, woman from whose mad love I had fled.