"Let's hope we don't hit another of those infernal mines," remarked O'Reilly to Aubyn, as the two officers made their way below. "I don't think we are in a regular minefield. The one we struck was evidently a derelict."
"Evidently," agreed Terence. "Judging by the damage done it must have deteriorated, otherwise it would have sent us to the bottom like a stone. I suppose it will mean turning over to another ship?
"Six weeks, patching the old 'Saraband' up," declared O'Reilly, who almost invariably referred to the ship by her former name. "I wish to goodness they'd appoint us to a cruiser or a destroyer and give us a chance of seeing some fun."
"We have had a fair share."
"Yes, of hard work—which I don't mind—and getting bashed about without being able to strike a blow in self-defence. Of course, it's the call of duty——"
A muffled thud, coming from almost immediately below their feet and followed by the unmistakable sound of rushing water, interrupted the young officer's conversation.
They looked at each other for one brief instant, hardly able to comprehend the nature of the latest calamity.
"Bulkhead started," announced Aubyn laconically.
Snatching an oil lamp from its bracket Terence rushed below, followed by O'Reilly. Guided by the feeble illumination, for the electric lighting installation was hopelessly out of order, the two officers made their way down several short ladders. On the orlop-deck they almost collided with Raeburn.
"After magazine flooded," announced the assistant engineer breathlessly. "Huge rush of water. I was just off to get extra hands, but you'll do. Be quick, there's no time to lose. The water's pouring in like a sluice."