At 9 a.m. the look-out on the cliffs reported smoke to the northward.
I got the anchor up and made ready to push off, but still kept the look-out ashore. At 9.30 he reported a destroyer in sight, which seemed serious if she chose to look into my particular nook.
At any rate, I thought, I wouldn't be caught like a rat, so I got my look-out on board--a matter of ten minutes--and then proceeded out, trimmed down and ready for diving.
When I drew clear of the entrance I saw the enemy distant about a thousand metres. I at once recognized her as being one of the oldest type of Russian torpedo boats afloat. When I established this fact, a devil entered into my mind, and did a most foolhardy act.
I decided that I would not retreat beneath the sea, but that I would fight her as one service ship to another.
When I make up my mind, I do so in no uncertain manner--indecision is abhorrent to me--and I sharply ordered, "Gun's Crew--Action."
I can still see the comical look of wonderment which passed over my First Lieutenant's face, but he knows me, and did not hesitate an instant. We drilled like a battleship, and in sixty-five seconds--I timed it as a matter of interest--from my order we fired the first shot. It fell short.
Extraordinary to relate, the torpedo boat, without firing a gun, put her helm hard over, and started to steam away at her full speed, which I suppose was about seventeen knots.
I actually began to chase her--a submarine chasing a torpedo boat! It was ludicrous.
With broad smiles on their faces, my good gun's crew rapidly fired the gun, and we had the satisfaction of striking her once, near her after funnel, but it did no vital damage, as a few minutes afterwards she drew out of range! What a pack of incompetent cowards!