‘One,’ shouted the captain down the hatch, as a great spout of white water showed forward. Then later, ‘two ... three. Upper deck control. Open the vents!’
The tanks were out and the air was churning up the sea outside.
Hoskins shut off the blows, and at Seagrave’s orders all vents and Kingstons were closed.
‘Engines!’ bellowed Raymond, ‘two fifty revs.’
With a fizz and a bang they were off, the smell of the petrol on starting pervading the bridge in spite of the strong wind.
It was a dirty night. Even a fair-sized vessel would have felt it, and to ‘123’ the sea was dangerously heavy.
The sun had just set, the sky was overcast, and rain was beginning to fall. The north-westerly wind was still increasing in force and raising a sea that caught them just before the beam.
Night fell, bringing pitch darkness and torrents of rain in its wake. The sea was quite steep now, but the wind was steady. Great rollers came out of the darkness, hit the submarine’s starboard side, broke over her in a deluge of spray, and vanished again to leeward.
The superstructure was hardly ever out of water, and now and again a sea swept right over the conning-tower, drenching to the skin the unfortunate men who were hanging on for dear life.
About nine o’clock Raymond eased her down to two hundred revs.