"None of our submarines are about here, I suppose?" asked Meredith.
"Not within seventy miles," replied the skipper. "So if we do have the luck to run across a submarine, we'll go for the brute bald-headed."
"And if Fritz can't dive?"
"Then, of course, we'll have to try our best to tickle his ribs with a shell while he's on the surface. Tricky work, but we'll keep him fully occupied with our little pea-shooter"; and Wakefield indicated the six-pounder, by the side of which the gun-layer was standing ready and alert to train the weapon upon its objective.
A quarter of an hour passed. Both officers realised that in this game of hide-and-seek the U-boat stood a better chance, since she could hear the noisy explosions of the M.L.'s exhausts, especially if she floated motionless with her motors switched off. Again, if it came to a trial of gunnery, the odds were tremendously in favour of the Hun, since the U-boat mounted a couple of 4.7-inch or even 6-inch weapons.
Wakefield was counting on the chance of catching his foe napping, and that, if the U-boat were able to dive, she would submerge precipitately. It was then that the depth-charges would play their deadly part.
Conscious of a peculiar sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, Meredith confessed to himself that "he had the wind up." Faced with the possibility of going into action for the first time, he both dreaded and welcomed the chance. Fervently he gave thanks for the fact that it was dark, and that none of his comrades could see his face. For his own part, he felt that every vestige of colour had vanished from his usually bronze features.
Again M.L. 1071 was brought to a standstill and recourse made to the hydrophone. The result was disappointing. Except for a faint rumbling that could only be ascribed to the surf lashing the distant cliffs, not a sound was recorded. Apparently the U-boat was again capable of submerging, and was lying doggo on the bed of the North Sea, while the destroyers engaged in hunting her had passed beyond the range of the M.L.'s hydrophone.
"We'll just carry on," decided Wakefield. "The fog looks like lifting."
Overhead the moonlight was streaming down through a thin layer of mist, while the range of visibility varied from fifty to five hundred yards as banks of dispersing vapour bore down before the light easterly wind.