"What ship have I hit?"
Someone told him.
"Where is your captain?"
Silence.
"Where is your captain?"
Then it was that little Tucker, sitting forward, tense, leaned far out and yelled:
"Douse yer glim, Cap, douse yer glim. . . ."
Out it went. The commander gave an order. We couldn't hear it, but we were afraid he meant to make straight for us and cut us in two. We pulled away, but, instead, he was wishing us the best of luck to lie there and rot, and then they submerged—just vanished into the black water from which they had appeared.
We waited trembling, but nothing happened. There wasn't a boat in sight. The old hulk of our ship had gone down forever. I thought of the Captain and of McCaffrey.
"Let's get 'em now, mates," I urged. But from the direction in which we'd last heard them there came no sound. They weren't there. Nobody was. So we pulled away.