‘Don’t think it’s much after all, sir,’ said Boyd. ‘Looks rather like a tramp.’
It was a tramp. An Admiralty collier on her way south for a fresh cargo of black diamonds, and Raymond cursed his unlucky star that had brought him out in the middle of the night for nothing.
‘’Vast heaving the weight,’ he cried. ‘Blow 1. Fall out diving stations.’
The tramp waddled by without seeing them (they were a very small mark even in the moonlight), and never knew the excitement she had caused, but her ears must have burned nevertheless.
‘I don’t think we need start the charge again,’ Raymond told the ‘Sub’ when he got below once more. ‘We’ll be getting under weigh in another hour.’
And so the remainder of the watch passed peacefully, and at four o’clock Raymond was up once more and the weight anchor was hove in.
The Destroyer was awake also, and her cable brought up the dripping anchor as ‘123’ was getting her engines ready. The compass was brought up and everything prepared, and then the Master’s screw began to revolve and she swung round to her course.
Raymond leant down the hatch.
‘Engines 300 revs.,’ he shouted.
‘Three ’undrest, sir,’ floated up from below, and then away came the Diesels and a cloud of petrol-filled exhaust swept over the bridge. ‘123’ gathered speed, and the vapour thinned away as Boyd steadied her on her course. Then Master drew ahead and began her zig-zag. A break of a few hours and they were off again on their way to Darlton, the present goal of the ‘ship’s company’s’ desires.