“All hands below!” cried Andrey; and, watching where the shells fell thickest, he began to give his orders. The Kate circled like a run-down hare, while all along the darkening skyline the smoking stacks of mine-layers and destroyers were visible as the enemy’s ruthless ring rapidly tightened about the submarine.
Having had her wireless mast shot off by a shell, the Kate now dashed toward the rocky shore, running awash. Six sparks shot up in the dark and six steel-clad demons hissed above the boat. The long shadow of a ship glided along the shore. The Kate shook, and a sharp-nosed torpedo detached itself from her hull and glided away under the water to meet the [v]silhouette of the vessel. A moment passed, and a fluffy, mountainous mass of fire and water rose from the spot where the stacks of a mine-layer had projected shortly before. The mountain sank and the silhouette disappeared. The Kate entered a baylet among the rocks, submerged, and lay on the sandy sea-bed.
Two weeks the submarine remained in the inlet, completely cut off from the rest of the world. By day she hid in the deep, and only under the cover of night did she rise to the surface to get a supply of air. The greatest precautions were necessary, for there was little likelihood that the enemy believed the submarine to be destroyed.
At the end of that time some action was inevitable, as the boat’s supplies had given out; for three days the crew had fed on fish which one of the men had caught at great risk. Audrey decided to leave the bay and make a supreme effort to run the enemy’s cordon.
About daybreak, as the Kate was nearing the surface of the sea, the crew became aware of a tremendous muffled cannonade; and when the boat emerged into a white fog, the whole coast shook and echoed with the roar and crash of a sea battle. Broadsides and terrific explosions alternated with the crackling of guns. It was as though a multitude of sea-devils coughed and blew and roared at each other.
“Quick, sir,” shouted Yakovlev, holding on to the railing; “we can break through now!” His teeth rattled.
The preparations for the dash had been completed. A strong gale swept away the fog and drove its torn masses over the sea, laying bare the rocky shore. The Kate dashed out of the bay into the open. The firing was now heard behind and on the right; the road to the port was open at last. The submarine rushed along, ripping in twain the frothing waves.
In this moment of exaltation, to return safely to base, simply to do one’s duty, seemed too little to these fearless men. The feeling that possessed them was not enthusiasm but a greediness, a yearning for destruction.
“We cannot go away like this,” Yakovlev shouted in Audrey’s ear; “turn back or I will shoot myself!” The man was completely beside himself; his pale face twisted convulsively.
Just then the sun arose, turning the rolling sea into a dull orange. Near at hand invisible ships thundered against each other. Suddenly a gray mountain-like shape emerged from the fog, enveloped in flame and smoke. Above its turrets, stacks, and masts fluttered a flag bearing a black eagle.