It was a thrilling moment for the boys from Brighton. Out there in the blackness of the night an American fighting craft was separating itself from the rest of the fleet to run full speed to the assistance of a helpless merchantman, and, if possible, to do battle with the enemy U-boat.
For an hour and a half they sat there, speculating as to the possible outcome.
"I'd give a month's pay to be aboard that destroyer," exclaimed Jerry enviously. "That's the sort of excitement I like. Just imagine coming up to that merchantman just in time to save her from destruction, and then having a regular battle with the submarine, and finally watching her sink, with a shell hole torn in her side!"
"Yes," added Slim, "and imagine being aboard that merchantman, with a shell hole torn in her side before the destroyer arrives!"
"It's pretty cold swimming on a night like this," said Joe. "I've tried it, and I know."
Lieutenant Mackinson, still seated before the wireless instrument, signaled them for quiet again. Another message was coming through space. It was in code, but was one that was easy for the lieutenant to translate, for he had heard it before.
"Submarine disappeared. Returning to fleet. Convoying Memphis."
"Go on deck, keep your eyes busy off the port bow, and you may see something interesting," the lieutenant told them.
Following the suggestion they went above and had stood there for perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes when suddenly the lookout in the crow's nest sang out: "Destroyer approaching, two points off the port bow."
Almost at the same instant there loomed out of the dense darkness a faint light, apparently miles away. For a moment they would see it, and then it would be gone, only to reappear again, another time to be extinguished. But obviously all the time it was coming nearer.