‘Twenty-five fathoms, sir,’ the navigator answered out of the darkness.
‘All right. Hold her up, coxswain.’
‘Ay, ay, sir. Can’t see the depth-gauge.’
Then they struck. Struck the bottom at 150 feet, with a slight cant downwards at a speed of five knots.
Mercifully the L.T.O., groping through the darkness, got to the emergency switch, and the spare lights came on just in time.
‘Stop the motors,’ called Raymond. ‘Is the bow-cap closed?’
‘Closed it as soon as we fired, sir, and drained the tubes,’ answered Seagrave.
‘Good. I fired as the leading Destroyer turned to ram. Missed, of course, but she was firing at us, and she’d have rammed us if we hadn’t got the mouldies off. She had to alter course for them, and as it was that depth-charge was pretty close.’
‘Depth-gauge jammed, sir,’ reported the coxswain. ‘68 lb. pressure on the periscope gauge.’
Raymond frowned. His quick dive to avoid destruction, coupled with the sudden obscuring of the lights, had landed him in an awkward situation. The boat had struck bottom with her motors under weigh, and had stuck her nose in the mud with 150 feet of water above her. The external pressure was 68 lb. to the square inch, and three watchful Destroyers were up above.