The length of this aisle seemed to Tom about half the length of a railroad car. Through it his rescuer led him to a door which opened into a tiny compartment, furnished with linoleum, a flat desk, three stationary swivel chairs and a leather settee. It was very hot and stuffy, with an oily smell, but cosy and spotlessly clean.
Directly across this compartment was another central door with something printed in German above it. The man knocked, opened this door, spoke to someone, then came back and went away in the direction from which they had come.
Tom stood in the little compartment, not daring to sit down. He seemed to be in a strange world, like that of the Arabian Nights. He did not know whether the boat had descended or was still awash, or had come boldly up to the surface. He knew that the tower through the hatch of which he had descended was about in the middle, and that he had been taken from that point almost to the bow. He thought this cosy little room must be the commander’s own private lair, and that probably the commander’s sleeping quarters lay beyond that door. Forward of that must be the torpedo compartments. As to what lay astern, he supposed the engines were there and the stern torpedo tubes, but the Teutons were so impolite that they never showed him and all Tom ever really saw of the interior of a German U-boat was the part of it which he had just traversed, and which in a general sort of way reminded him of a sleeping-car with the odor of a motorcycle.
Presently, the forward door opened, and a young man with a very sallow complexion entered. He wore a kind of dark blue jumper, the only semblance of which to a uniform was that its few buttons were of brass. He was twirling his mustache and looked at Tom with very keen eyes.
“Vell, we are not so pad, huh? Ve don’d kill you!”
Tom did not know exactly what to say, so he said, “I got to thank you.”
The man motioned to the settee and Tom sat down while he seated himself in one of the swivel chairs.
“Vell, vot’s der matter?” he said, seeing Tom shiver.
“I’m wet,” said Tom; adding, “but I don’t mind it.”
The man continued to look at him sharply. His questions were peremptory, short, crisp.