‘How is she?’ asked the captain again.
‘Horizontal, sir, fifteen feet,’ replied the coxswain.
‘Start the motors. Full fields,’ ordered Raymond. ‘Thirty feet. Take her down.’
The two coxswains spun their wheels forward with eyes glued on the depth-gauge.
The needle moved slowly on. Twenty, twenty-five, twenty-seven feet, it recorded. They were whirling their wheels aft now to check her from going too deep.
Thirty feet, thirty-two, thirty-four the metre registered, and then slowly the needle swung back a little and stopped.
‘Thirty feet, sir,’ said the coxswain.
‘Right. Crack the vents and let me know if she gets heavy,’ replied the captain, lowering the periscope. ‘Finished diving stations.’
‘Everybody works in our boat
But the L.T.O.’