Under cover of the smoke Pyecroft struck out. Fragments hurled high in the air were now falling all around him, while buoyant objects, taken down by the vortex, were rising to the surface with terrific force. A plank, the jagged edge of which would have almost cut the swimmer in two, shot upwards from beneath the waves. Missing him by inches, it described a parabola, rising to a height of twenty feet or more before it fell back with a resounding smack.
With his senses deadened by the stupendous roar, the pungent smoke and the coldness of the water, Pyecroft kept himself afloat automatically until he came in contact with a huge wicker basket that was floating upside down with about a third of its bulk exposed.
As he grasped it, the basket turned completely over, the rim striking the swimmer a smart rap on the face. The sting of the blow had the effect of partly restoring his mental faculties. Gaining a firmer grip of the basket, he took stock of his surroundings.
The surface of the water was coated with a deposit of oil, for part of the cargo of X 5 had consisted of turps, linseed, and lubricating oil in casks. One effect of the explosion of the shell had been to liberate the contents of the casks; another, the oil acted as an antidote to the coldness of the water.
Before the haze of smoke had completely disappeared Pyecroft drew the basket over his head. Within there was enough space to keep his head clear of the water, and at the same time there remained considerable buoyancy on the part of the stout wicker-work.
Presently the outlines of the U-boat that had been responsible for Pyecroft's predicament became visible. She was slowly forging ahead. Her deck was deserted. She was preparing to submerge.
"She's gone," he soliloquised. "That's a blessing. I wouldn't swop places with Cumberleigh for a tenner."
He dodged outside his place of concealment and glanced around. A hundred yards away was the water-logged Pip-squeak. Even with her garboard smashed the staunchly built boat kept afloat.
"Wonder if I can do it?" thought the swimmer.
Fumbling with benumbed fingers to draw a knife from his pocket, he proceeded to cut the laces of his leggings.