The thud of the tramp's propeller clearly indicated that such was the intention of the Talisman's skipper. It was an audacious, almost foolhardy piece of work. The tramp, unescorted and of comparatively slow speed, had eased down and was circling over the spot where the supposed U-boat was last seen.
"I'll humour the old chap," resumed the Lieutenant-Commander. "Mr. Fordyce, pass the word for the oil in the sump to be pumped out. That'll please him when he finds the oil floating on the surface—but not a word, mind, to the men. It's our little joke."
It was not until the beating of the tramp's propellers had long faded into inaudibility that R19 poked her periscope above the surface. The fog had cleared considerably, although the air was still misty. As far as the field of vision showed all was quiet. Up came the submarine, the electric motors were switched off and the petrol engines clutched into the propeller shafts. Hatches were opened and steps taken to "con" the vessel from the navigation-platform.
A swirl in the water on the starboard hand attracted the Sub's notice as he gained the open air. Something was converging upon the vessel's side. Instinctively he glanced towards the bows. His supposition was correct. In rising, the submarine had fouled the wire span connecting a pair of drifting mines. On either hand a deadly metal cylinder was being swung in towards the vessel's hull.
There was no time for official decorum. With a bound Noel threw himself upon the engine-room telegraph indicator and signalled full speed astern.
Thank Heaven, the order was obeyed promptly, even at the risk of snapping the blades, wrecking the stuffing-box, or smashing the clutches. With the water hissing and foaming past her sides under the reverse action of her powerful propeller, the submarine quickly lost way and began to gather sternway.
"Stop! Easy astern!"
Both orders were as quickly carried out as before. By this time the two mines were bearing on the bows at a distance of less than fifty yards away, and were gradually being drawn towards each other. So exactly midway had R19 struck the span that, unless steps were taken to prevent them, the metal cylinders would collide with each other and explode within a few seconds of the fragile horns being snapped under the impact. And at fifty yards the detonation of that double quantity of T.N.T. would be sufficient to severely damage, if not destroy, the submarine.
Again Fordyce signalled "Stop", then called for volunteers to clear the fouled wire. There was no need to ask twice. From below poured hands armed with hack-saws, cold chisels, and axes.
The rope—a 2-inch flexible-steel-wire one—was badly rusted, nevertheless it took the bluejackets the best part of five minutes to sever it and disentangle the newly-cut ends.