"Cast off there!" ordered the Lieutenant-Commander; "diving stations."
As soon as the two seamen had regained the interior of the vessel, hatches were closed and secured, and the submarine, with her conning-tower just awash, forged gently ahead against the stream. Then under the action of her horizontal rudders she quickly slipped beneath the surface and dived to sixty feet.
"Here we are, sir," reported Dick, indicating on a chart the position of the submarine. "A course due east will take us towards the centre of the Bosphorus, and in the direction of Scutari."
"Good!" ejaculated Huxtable. "Crosthwaite, you're a rattling good fellow. It was a smart idea of yours, slinging the drum overboard. It drew their fire splendidly. I don't suppose the rotten gun-layers have settled it yet."
Dick said nothing in reply. Already he realized that his action had been done on the spur of the moment. The good result was simply a fluke. It seemed an absurd thing to have to confess that he had jettisoned the drum merely as an act of pique. Huxtable took his silence as a sign of modesty, and was still further impressed by the Sub's forethought.
The submarine came to rest on the bed of the sea. To plough blindly through the darkness was to court disaster. Her commander's plan was to await the first blush of dawn, ascend and take a rapid bearing, and then shape a course for the broad expanse of the Sea of Marmora. As he had expected, the Turks imagined that their daring assailant was one of the Russian flotilla of submarines, and their chief attentions were centred upon preventing its return to the Black Sea by means of the twenty-four miles of narrow, intricate waterway between the two inland seas.
At daybreak the submarine made a cautious ascent. Almost as soon as the periscope showed above the surface, Huxtable gave vent to an exclamation of mingled surprise and annoyance, for depicted upon the object-bowl was a large cruiser, lying at anchor within easy torpedo range.
It was the recreant Goeben. The Turco-German battle-cruiser bore distinct traces of the rough handling she had undergone. Her lofty, grey-painted sides were holed in several places, both of her funnels were perforated, while two of her big guns had been removed, either because the turret had been put out of action, or else because the huge weapons were badly wanted for shore defence. In addition she was badly trimmed, and showed a decided list to starboard.
"Just our luck!" grunted Huxtable as he promptly caused the submarine to dive once more. "I would give anything for a torpedo; we couldn't possibly miss her at this range."
Ten minutes later another view was obtained through the periscope. Ahead lay the Sea of Marmora: the hazardous return voyage had begun in earnest.