The boat was doing a good eight knots now, and could be felt vibrating through the water as the speed increased. All eyes were on the gauges, the coxswains watching their depths and the L.T.O.s their ammeters as Raymond increased to 800 amperes. Then once more the motors were stopped and the batteries placed in parallel or ‘grouped down,’ and then came the order,—
‘Eighty feet.’
As the hydroplane and diving rudder wheels went over, the visitors’ expressions became a little tense and anxious. One of them laughed and cracked a stale joke, another fidgeted with a bunch of keys, but nobody said anything.
That sense of proportion was developing.
The depth needle crept up to the requisite depth and steadied, and then another tour of inspection took place, for leaks this time, and was also pronounced satisfactory. The visitors breathed again, but thoughts of the fresh air and sunlight up above would obtrude themselves nevertheless. It seemed so still and quiet, and the electric light glared and winked on the brass work while up above....
‘A hundred feet.’
Somebody coughed nervously (it was not one of the crew) and the boat continued her descent. At the hundred foot level she steadied and the final inspection was made, and to the great relief of certain members of the passengers, who were thinking about that pressure of 45 lb. to the square inch, the boat rose to thirty feet, the motors were stopped, and Raymond gave the order,—
‘Blow 1, 2, and 3.’
The Kingstons were opened, and Hoskins on the air-manifold got the air in group working, the depth needle hurried back to zero, and Raymond clambered up the conning-tower and threw open the hatch.
‘One,’ he shouted, ‘two, three,’ as the tanks emptied, and then the burly coxswain pushed his way up and took the helm, followed by Boyd and the much-relieved dockyard potentates.