Haynes was certainly right, and so was his brother officer. Until the Portchester Castle arrived to render assistance the struggle looked like being a dead heat, unless——
Yes, Webb knew that there was an "unless"—a mighty unpleasant one. There was a possibility that the U-boat's skipper would not surrender. Rather he would explode the war-heads of the torpedoes still within the hull, and send the submarine to instant destruction, at the same time involving the annihilation of the two boats and their crews.
At all costs Webb determined to "stand fast", but it was with mingled feelings of elation and apprehension that he regarded the shadowy outlines of his "capture", as the enormous hull showed dimly at twelve feet beneath the surface. Air bubbles broke upon the slightly agitated waves as the U-boat strove either to "sound" or break away and rise awash. At intervals her twin screws churned the water, sometimes going ahead and sometimes astern, with the result that the cutter and the whaler crashed gunwale to gunwale half a dozen times in twice as many minutes. Only the skilful and strenuous endeavours of their crews prevented the strongly-built sides from collapsing like shattered egg-shells.
All this while the Portchester Castle was bearing down upon the boats. Captain M'Bride knew that something unusual was taking place. The erratic movements of the two craft told him that, but he was at a loss to understand the reason.
"Cutter ahoy!" came a hail through a megaphone from the armed merchantman's bridge.
"What are you foul of?"
One of the boat's crew, producing two handflags, dexterously balanced himself upon one of the thwarts.
"Hooked a submarine, sir," he reported.
"How does she lie?" was the skipper's next question.
"Bows away from you, sir; her stern's swinging on to your port bow."