This knowledge was of importance, for, although the U-boat was blind, it was just possible that her crew might discharge a torpedo on the off chance of the missile getting home.
"Stand by to cast off roundly," came the next order from the Portchester Castle. "I'm going to ram her aft."
"Now for it," thought Tom Webb. "If we're not in the ditch within the next fifty seconds I'll be very much mistaken."
The Sub had barely expressed himself thus, when with a quivering jerk the U-boat shot above the surface, exposing the whole of the after part of the conning-tower, although the fore part was still beneath the surface. She was so down by the head that the blades of her stern hydroplanes were visible. Realizing that it was touch-and-go, the German skipper had released the emergency metal keel with which these craft are equipped.
Owing to their short painters, the cutter and the whaler were swung in close alongside the rounded hull, their bows hoisted clear of the water by the terrific strain upon their bow ropes.
Several of their crews had been flung upon the bottom boards and stern-sheets, while streams of water from the U-boat's deck threatened to swamp the frail craft alongside.
Instantly the after hatch of the submarine was flung open, and, headed by a stout, fair-haired leutnant, the German crew armed with revolvers began to pour through the narrow opening on to the U-boat's decks.
There was no indication on their part of a wish to surrender. It was evidently going to be a hand-to-hand scrap 'twixt British and Germans.
The submarine's officer had taken in part of the situation at a glance. Shouting to a couple of hands to cut the painters, he led the rest of the men in a headlong rush towards the two boats, the Huns opening a hot but erratic fire from their small-arms. Unfortunately for him the leutnant had not noticed in his haste the Portchester Castle's approach, until a warning shout from one of the Germans revealed the immediate danger.
The attack stopped immediately. Throwing down their revolvers the Huns raised their hands above their heads, shouting "Mercy, kamerad!" at the fullest pitch of their lungs, some directing their appeal towards the British seamen in the boats, others towards the vengeful merchant-cruiser.