As the boat rose Raymond reduced to full fields, and presently she steadied at thirty feet. Then the periscope was raised, and after a final look round the captain spoke again,—
‘Eighteen feet. Bring her up quickly, so that you can get down again at once if necessary.’
The two coxswains moved their wheels. Again that tense, strained feeling came over the boat. The men were all on the alert, waiting for the expected result.
As she came up Raymond kept his eye at the lens watching for the moment the periscope would break surface. The men stood by; there was always the horrible possibility of rising right under the keel of an enemy Destroyer.
At nineteen feet the captain lowered the periscope quickly, and the boat descended to the thirty foot level. Then came the expected order,—
‘Flood the tubes.’
‘They’ve spread out,’ Raymond explained, as Seagrave departed forward in a state of bustle. ‘Two of them are astern on either quarter, and the other’s about a mile ahead. They’re looking for us, but so far they haven’t seen us. Steer 270 deg.’
‘Steer 270 deg. Course, sir,’ echoed the helmsman mechanically.
‘Eighteen feet,’ ordered Raymond, and up came the periscope, the captain following the lens up with his eye as the instrument rose.
‘Right. Down periscope. Keep her at her depth. Stand by.’