Across the East river the lights of Manhattan glowed brightly while in the Laidlaw yard last minute preparations for the voyage of the S-18 were being rushed. Supplies were being checked and every possible test of equipment was made.
In the radio room Ike Green got in contact with the New York Journal station and Tim filed his last story. The next would be sent when the S-18 was out to sea.
A whistle shrilled on the deck overhead and Tim mounted the ladder and climbed through the main hatch. Riding lights of the submarine were on. Yard workers were casting off the lines which held the S-18 to the towering dock.
The huge Diesels came to life and the submarine pulsated gently to their song of power. Commander Ford was at his station in the conning tower while near him at the auxiliary controls was Pat Reynolds. Half a dozen other members of the crew were on deck.
Down in the inky waters at the rear of the S-18 the propellers churned. Slowly the submarine nosed away from the boatyard, heading out toward the East river. There was no sound from the workers on the dock; no sound from the men on deck. This business of hunting sunken treasures was deadly serious.
There was little traffic on the river after the midnight hour and the S-18 felt its way out into mid-stream and then dropped down toward the open sound.
Somewhere behind them a ferryboat hooted dismally and a tramp steamer, just swinging out of its wharf, answered.
“Any chance that that vessel may be Sladek’s?” Tim asked Pat.
“There’s more than a chance. It probably is,” replied the first officer.
The submarine moved down the bay at a steady eight knots an hour and Tim watched the lights of Manhattan fading into a haze. They stood well down the bay for the Sea King factory was on the south shore of Long Island.