“Scoot Bailey never will have an experience like this as long as he lives!” March said to himself. He was peering through the periscope of the submerged pigboat, looking over the tossing waters of the sea.
When the Captain had called “Up, periscope,” the long shaft had moved up by electric motor until the eyepiece and handles were at convenient height. The Skipper had a look around, and March noticed that he turned the handles to adjust the focus.
“Here, have a look, Mister Anson,” he said, standing away.
So March had fitted his eyes against the rubber cup and looked. He saw water, a long stretch of open water with nothing on it. It was not completely sharp so he turned one handle slightly, saw the image fuzz up, turned it the other way until it came sharp. Next he moved the periscope around, stepping with it as he did so, looking over the horizon in a sweeping arc.
Then he saw something! It was the shore of Long Island, almost two miles away. He stepped back and said, “I saw the Long Island shore, I think. How far can one see through the periscope, sir?”
“About two and a half miles,” the Skipper replied. “Have a look, Mister Bigelow.”
Stan stepped forward eagerly to look through the ’scope. He swung it around in a different direction from which March had moved and suddenly exclaimed, “A ship!”
The Captain took over for a look, then said, “Yes, small freighter. Just think how easily we could sink her!”
March looked at the ship. “Looks as though I could knock her down with a BB gun,” he said.
“On later trips we’ll simulate attacks on some of the ships in the Sound,” the Skipper said. “So you’ll get a chance to practice something a little more powerful than a BB gun.”