‘Shut off drains and blows,’ cried the ‘Sub.’ ‘Close the vents!’
The tubes were now full, and with a few turns of a wheel he forced the great bow-cap for’ard off its seating. Then with his foot on a shining brass pedal, with a single heave of a lever, he swung the whole mass round till the indicator showed that the open doors were in line with the tubes. Something fell into place with a click, the cap was worked back on to its seating, and the torpedoes were free for their mission.
‘Charge firing tanks’ was the next order, and as the air sighed and soughed through the pipes, ‘All ready for’ard, sir!’ he shouted.
‘Ay, ay,’ answered Raymond, with his eye at the periscope. ‘Bearing of Zero 165 deg. What’s her depth?’
‘Eighteen feet, sir.’
‘Right. Down periscope.’
Boyd was working furiously at his chart, laying off the bearings and courses and making notes of the orders given for future reference. All this would be gone through afterwards in ward room and cabin, and it was best to be well prepared.
Up went the periscope again. The men in the control room guessed they were nearing the moment of attack and steadied themselves in readiness.
‘Bearing 170 deg. What’s her depth?’
‘Sixteen feet, sir.’