"Close on, sir," was the equally cautious reply.
"I thought so," agreed Fordyce. "Good enough."
"We're over Position A, sir," he reported.
"Or thereabouts," added the Hon. Derek under his breath. "Starboard eight, Quartermaster."
Round swung the deeply-submersed hull of the submarine to settle on her new course—the awkward turn in the channel through the mine-field. Already the netted area that had all but finished R19's career on her outward voyage was left astern.
After a comparatively short run the order was given to port helm. R19 had negotiated the awkward bend in the cleared channel, and a straight run northwards would see her beyond the limits of the mine-field.
Suddenly, at a distance of about forty fathoms astern, and slightly on the starboard quarter, a column of water leapt two hundred feet or more into the misty air, accompanied by a roar like the concentrated peals of a dozen thunderclaps. The next instant Fordyce, almost capsized by the rush of displaced air, was knee-deep in water.
Rolling sluggishly, R19 shook herself clear of the turbulent swirl while the Quartermaster promptly steadied her on her helm.
The Lieutenant-Commander glanced at his subordinate officer.
"Narrow squeak that, Fordyce," he remarked. "What's Chalmers doing? By Jove, we cut that corner pretty closely!"