And a Cruiser ’as a fore-foot like a knife.
So, can’t you even guess the way we did it?
It only ’appened ‘bout a year ago,
The Battle Cruisers caught ’em, and the Dread-ohs nearly taught ’em
When darkness fell and spoilt our little show.
THE REAL THING
The patrol had not been a very interesting one so far, and nothing out of the way had happened. Moreover, it was the first that ‘123’ had made since her return to duty, and at the end of a day at sea the crew were already slipping back to the familiar routine. They had just finished lunch and had been diving since four in the morning, and nothing had occurred to break the monotony of the usual underwater stillness. There was no indication of what was going to happen, and the men off watch were stretched out in the battery compartments putting away a little over and above their ordinary allowance of sleep, while the control room was tenanted solely by the second coxswain at the planes, and the helmsman, who was biting his nails and staring into the gyro repeater. Faint gurgles came now and again from the vents, and occasionally the steering chain rattled, but otherwise there was scarcely any noise. Behind the green curtains Raymond and Seagrave were reading magazines, and Boyd was asleep in the little box-shaped upper bunk. The indicator of the Forbes’ log gave a click and announced another mile completed, and the master compass hummed its continuous tune to itself as it buzzed happily round.
It was Seagrave who saw them first. He had brought the boat up to eighteen feet and taken the customary wary look round the horizon, and the coxswain was surprised that he got no order to ‘take her down again.’
Seagrave came in quietly from the control room and tapped his skipper on the shoulder.
‘Will you have a look through the periscope, sir?’ he asked.