“That’s not going to be as difficult as it seems. There are a lot of old navy men drifting around New York who are always itching for an adventure. A trip like this will appeal to them and I’ll be able to round up enough submarine experts to fill out the crew we need. I’m inserting an ad in the morning papers.”
“Isn’t there a chance Sladek may try and ring in a few of his men in your crew?”
“I’ll have to guard against that,” admitted Ford, “but it’s a chance I’ll have to take.” After lunch they departed for Brooklyn and the Laidlaw private shipyard where the S-18 was to be outfitted for the cruise.
It was Tim’s first glimpse of a real submarine and he stood for several minutes gazing at the smooth, glistening grey hull in the water beside the dock.
The S-18 had been started in 1920 and completed two years later. The sub was 240 feet long and ahead of the conning tower was the turret which housed the four-inch gun. The craft was a picture of sinister power and Tim felt just a little shivery as he stepped down the gangway which led from the dock onto the narrow deck.
“What do you think of it?” asked Ford.
“I’d a whole lot rather make the trip in an airplane,” admitted Tim, “but I guess I’ll get used to it.”
They climbed through the main hatch and descended into the control room. A mass of gauges and polished brass wheels greeted Tim’s eyes. The rounded hull was painted a flat white and the air was a trifle stuffy. It was all a Chinese puzzle to him.
Ford, talking rapidly, pointed to depth gauge, periscope controls, ballast tank valves and a score of other devices that had little meaning for Tim.
“This is the heart of the submarine,” explained Ford. “From this point every movement and action is directed.”