‘Each firing-tank fires the torpedo on its own side of the boat, sir.’
‘Do you find it satisfactory?’
‘Very, sir.’
Captain Charteris turned away. ‘That’s all, I think, Raymond,’ he said, and led the way up the fore-hatch.
‘Ship’s company, ’shun!’ ordered Seagrave, as the two officers passed down the line on their way aft, the Captain quietly scanning the faces and pausing now and again to ask a question as to what boats a certain man had served in, when he had received his medal ribbon, or how long he had been in submarines.
At the gang-plank, where the coxswain was waiting with his pipe ready, he issued judgment. ‘Not at all bad, Raymond,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m coming aboard some day to see dummy shots fired without the cross connection.’
‘Very good, sir,’ said Raymond saluting, and Captain Charteris was piped over the side.
As he crossed from boat to boat the trilling of the pipes was taken up by each coxswain in turn as the crews came to attention and the officers saluted, the boatswain’s mate at the Parentis’s gangway bringing the performance to a triumphant conclusion.
The quartermaster, the corporal of the watch, messengers, and sideboys stiffened where they stood as he crossed the deck and went down the starboard gangway to inspect the remaining five submarines.
Three-quarters of an hour later ‘pipe down,’ sounded by the juvenile Marine bugler, informed all and sundry that the inspection was over. The boats’ crews fell out, and such as were not wanted for immediate duty trooped aboard the depot and down to the crowded mess-decks, while the officers remained comparing notes and discussing the results of the ordeal.