"It is clearing somewhat, Herr Kapitan," announced the unter-leutnant after a space of ten minutes. "I can just make out the cruiser. ...Ach! Donnerwetter! The English patrol boats. One is almost on us."
With an oath von Loringhoven shouted for the hydroplanes to be depressed, and for full speed ahead. Under the enormous resistance of the diving rudders the U-boat flung her stern clear of the water as she sought the depths. At a steeper angle than she had ever done before she sank, throbbing under the pulsations of her powerful electric motors.
Suddenly an appalling roar seemed to come from somewhere in close proximity to the hull. Caught by a tremendous swirl of displaced water, the submarine swung round like a straw in the grip of a foaming torrent. Many of the crew were hurled to the deck-plates, while von Loringhoven and the unter-leutnant saved themselves from being precipitated through the opening in the floor of the conning tower by ignominiously embracing the shaft of the periscope. With the concussion every light went out, the fuses being blown by the terrific shock.
Gasping in momentary expectation of finding themselves overwhelmed by an inrush of water the two officers could do nothing but cling tenaciously to their support, while from the terrified crew came a babel of shouts, oaths, and shrieks of dismay and despair.
Hans Kuhlberg was the first to recover to a certain extent from his state of panic.
"We are still alive, Herr Kapitan," he exclaimed, in a broken high-pitched voice.
"For how long?" added von Loringhoven.
"This darkness!... Are the motors still running?... Are we rising or sinking until the hull plates crack like an egg-shell under the exterior pressure? Himmel! Tell me that."
"The chlorine fumes!" exclaimed Kuhlberg, relapsing into his state of blind panic. "We will be stifled like——"
"Hold your idiotic tongue!" hissed the ober-leutnant. "Where is the torch?"