"Now I'm here I'll stop," decided Fuller, drawing his coat across his chest. "Hullo! they're taking soundings. That looks as if we were nearing shore."
For nearly an hour the "Antipas" literally "smelt her way." Darkness had fallen, and with it the fog bank increased in density and dimensions. No longer was it possible to discern anything beyond a couple of yards. No discordant hoot blared from the syren, no navigation lights were shown. Beyond slowing down nothing more could be done, owing to war conditions, to safeguard the destroyer from risks of collision.
"Hullo, you fellows!" exclaimed the lieutenant of the destroyer as, clad in oilskins, sou'wester and sea boots, he groped his way for'ard. "Have we made it too comfortable for you down below?"
"Didn't know that it was your 'trick,'" remarked Barcroft.
"Neither is it. That's one of the penalties of serving on a destroyer. You never know when you're off duty. The skipper's just spoken through: we're on the track of a strafed U-boat. Picked her up by microphone."
"Here's to the bridge, then," decided Fuller. "Come on, you would-be card-players. Let's see the fun."
"One of the advantages of going dead slow, I suppose," commented Tressidar as his guests rejoined him. "We've cut across the trail of a submarine, that's certain. Come in, and see how things are progressing."
The lieutenant-commander opened the door of the chart-room. Against one bulkhead stood the receiver of the submarine-signalling apparatus. Standing in front of it was a bluejacket with both ear-pieces clipped to his ears. With his left hand he was alternately actuating the switch that connects both receivers.
"Right dead on, sir," he reported. "Less than a couple of cables' lengths ahead, I'll allow."
Behind him stood the helmsman at the steam-steering gear, his eyes fixed upon the cryptic movements of the operator's hands, as the latter transmitted the course to the quartermaster.