‘Here we are, pilot,’ said Seagrave. ‘Pleased to see you. The lead’s over aft. The Master’s half a mile or so off bearing about 185 deg., and we’re ready for diving except for the charge. Skipper wants to be called to get under weigh at four o’clock. Let him know if you see anything, and dive on the weight if necessary. Got the challenge and reply? Right then, that’s the lot. Cheer-oh.’
And he disappeared below to hot cocoa and Morpheus.
The look-out was relieved, and the vigil continued. The little bridge was a weary place when ‘123’ was not under weigh, and time passed very slowly. Boyd yawned miserably and climbed down on to the superstructure, as it was calm enough to walk there without running the risk of falling overboard.
But even here it wasn’t all it might be. One hit one’s head on the jumping wires and stumbled over the closed after-hatch, and after a while he returned to the bridge and the cold comfort of the little stool screwed into the deck. The look-out was on the other side, leaning up against the standard. He also was wishing the night would pass and they could get on down to Darlton. Three o’clock; not so very much longer....
And then suddenly they were both on the alert, staring out to starboard where something was showing on the northern horizon.
‘Call the Captain,’ shouted Boyd down the hatch. ‘Break the charge and shut off for diving. In tail-clutch and close battery ventilators. Diving stations.’
In a moment the crew were awake and Raymond on the bridge rubbing his eyes and peering out at the intruder. The Destroyer had seen her also, and her cable was coming in hand over fist. The sound of the engines died away, and a voice came up the hatch reporting that they were ‘shut off for diving and tail-clutch in, sir.’
‘Flood 1,’ replied Raymond. ‘Stand by 2 and 3. Heave in the weight.’
‘Open No. 1 Kingston and No. 1 main vent,’ came Seagrave’s voice. Then, ‘1 full, sir.’
‘All right. Stand by to dive.’