Part 10

The dawn was struggling over the eastern sky and away to starboard the land was showing up through the shadows. With the sunrise came a cloud of trawlers, who hovered round until absolutely certain of the submarine’s bona fides, and then fell away and pursued their lawful business of Hun hunting. Farther south a patrol of three Destroyers came up over the horizon, swept them with a searching glance, and hurried on over the earth’s shoulder, following their patrol-track as a sentry does his beat. After breakfast they fell in with a supply-ship on her way to the Fleet, and later on passed a coastwise cargo-boat, who turned on heel and ran till convinced by the _Master_ that ‘123’ was not a ‘U’ boat.

And so the day wore on, and the funny man cracked jokes and the signalman played a mandoline in the after-compartment, and towards three o’clock in the afternoon the smoke of Darlton was visible down the coast.

The _Master_ slackened her speed and kept closer to her charge, her signal halliards bristling with replies to challenges and evidences of her innocent intentions, but the outer patrols who came out to meet them still treated them as unwelcome guests, until something the Destroyer said seemed to satisfy the senior ship, and the group of trawlers fell away and _Master_ and her consort were allowed to pass on without further interruption.

The inside trawlers gave way to them, and the boom was lowered in answer to their request, and then the Destroyer at the gate woke up to the fact that strangers were entering, and sprang to life waving her semaphore and generally ‘doing things.’

‘_Master_ to proceed to No. 4 and 5 buoys,’ she ordered. ‘“123” to proceed to inner harbour and make fast to quay opposite No. 2 Store.’

The escort swung away to her moorings, and ‘123’ held on to the inner harbour, where a crowd of dockyard labourers was gathered to see her pass. Raymond dropped her alongside and tied her up. Then he sent for Seagrave.

‘I’m going to report my arrival to the S.N.O.,[16]’ he told him. ‘You’d better make arrangements for the crew’s accommodation in the submarine barracks. There’s one in the dockyard somewhere. Boyd can get our luggage off the escort and take the lot up to the Royal Hotel. We’ll have to live there while we’re here. See everything squared up. I’ll be back as soon as I can, but I don’t suppose we’ll dry dock till next week.’

A red-haired lad on the quay turned to a dock-side loafer as he pointed at the boat,--

‘Is yon what you ca’ a soobmarine?’ he inquired.

‘Ay, yon’s it.’

* * * * *

Sunday, the day of rest, was by no means restful for ‘123.’ A deluge of visitors poured into the boat, starting with the Chief Constructor and Engineer Commander of the Dockyard, and ending with foremen fitters and boilermakers and electricians. All these gentlemen appeared with lengthy lists and copies of the defect notes, and most of them, most certainly the Commander and the Constructor, seemed to be under the fixed impression that the boat was captained by a demon in disguise who was doing his dirty damnedest to get more done to her than was her just allowance. Visits to the S.N.O. and Naval Store Officer took place early in the day, and by noon the battery boards had been lifted by a host of workmen, and the great cells were coming out, dangling on the ends of tackles, to be gently lowered on to trucks and wheeled away to the battery sheds. Later in the afternoon a small army attacked the engine-room and began stripping the engines, while Hoskins and his merry men danced attendance and shed salt tears of sorrow.

The first few days were bound to be strenuous. The torpedoes, gun, and ammunition were all taken away and stowed in sheds and magazines, and another group of workmen got to work on the superstructure, lifting the condemned plates and generally making havoc and noise in the process.

Meanwhile, the crew were accommodated in the Naval Barracks, whence they were shepherded to work each morning by the coxswain, and the officers lived in hotels in the town. There was no thought of leave just yet, as there was too much work to do, and on Monday morning the boat was placed in dry dock.

As the water descended in the dock her underwater lines became visible, and one was struck with their resemblance to the shape of a fish. The tail, the fins, the head, all were there, and the holes in the bow-cap looked like the two great goggle eyes of an underwater monster.

The re-fit was now in full swing. Both batteries were out in the sheds, and Seagrave spent every spare minute he had in hovering over the cells and expostulating with the electrical experts who were to overhaul them. Meanwhile Raymond would be in the boat or visiting the powers that be, and Boyd was usually to be found in the vicinity of the office of that mighty man, the Naval Store Officer, for the greater part of the day. There was not much for the crew to do. The engine-room staff were helping the workmen in their department, and the electrical experts were busy also, but the ordinary rank and file were employed mostly in chipping paint and rust and cleaning up messes made by the busier members of the staff.

At the end of the first week the engines were practically ashore, the after superstructure had also been lifted, and the exhaust pipes removed. Both batteries were out and all the air bottles had gone ashore to be tested. Stages had been rigged round the boat, and men were working on the bow-cap, which was to be lowered and overhauled, and also on the rudders and hydroplanes which were being stripped down, rebushed, and generally attended to.

The boat was in a state of ordered chaos by now, and it was almost impossible to move in her below. Men seemed to be everywhere, all round her and underneath her even, for the Kingston valves in the bottom of the boat were being seen to and tested among other things. She lay in the dry dock like a landed salmon, hammered at and struck by merciless and persisting workmen who seemed to delight in tearing things to pieces. The main motors were already receiving their due modicum of attention, much to the distraction of the T.I., who spent most of his day in the torpedo shed.

Finally, after about ten days of it, when the ballast tanks had been cleaned out and painted (you had to crawl in through a tiny manhole to get to them), the time for testing arrived, and Seagrave was allowed to depart on his well-earned leave. The tanks were tested separately by a water pressure, water being pumped in and left at the required pressure for a stated interval. Then the tank was drained and opened up, and Raymond and Hoskins, who was a man in great demand just now, would crawl in clad in overalls and see that all was in order. The main ballast tank, the trimming tanks, auxiliary and buoyancy tanks, were all tested in this way, and even the fuel tanks had to go through the same ordeal, though of a much less severe character. By the time these tests were all satisfactorily finished, the re-fit was in its third week, and matters were at their height. The battery tanks had been cleaned out and were now being ‘rosmanited,’ or covered with a preparation that resists the action of the acid, if any should be spilt out of the cells. The bow-cap had been down and replaced, and the rudders and hydroplanes were once more in position by the time Seagrave returned from his ten days’ leave and Boyd was able to go away for his spell. Raymond, poor wight, would be lucky if he could snatch a couple of days just at the end of the performance.

The air bottles underwent their ordeal and were replaced singly, a matter of much labour, and the engines began to return in pieces and take shape and resemble their accustomed appearance. The bigger jobs were over, and the boat was painted inside and out, and left the dry dock after being a month out of the water. Then the battery began to come back, and the cells were strapped together and the boards laid down, and the internal appearance of the boat looked a little more ship-shape. But there was still a host of minor things to be done. Motors and rheostats were ashore, and had to be replaced and wired, alterations were being made to the bridge, and the superstructure was not yet in place. Presently Boyd returned from leave, and Raymond made a dash to London only to be recalled three days later over a matter of an alteration to the H.P. air line. The stores began to drift aboard and the boat to look a little more like her old self, for they were speeding things up now owing to urgent telegrams of recall to the _Parentis_, and every one was working at fever heat.

The last stages were reached, however, when the painting party arrived to beautify ‘123’s’ internals with white enamel, what time the carpenters were putting up those shelves (on which one would imagine the captain wanted to place his boots) and shifting the wine locker from above to below the chest of drawers.

However, the messes were clearing up and the time of turmoil nearly at an end; most of the crew had had a few days’ leave and the re-fit had been satisfactory.

At the end of five weeks the boat was finished and nothing remained but to take in fuel, torpedoes, gun, and ammunition, and carry out the final engine and diving tests before returning to the welcoming bosom of the _Parentis_.

A copy of the programme to be carried out in the way of tests was submitted to, and approved by, the Senior Naval Officer, and the boat took in her fuel and war machines without further delay. On the morrow the engine trials were to take place, and the ship’s company paused and drew breath before the final struggle.

At an early hour the following morning Seagrave left the hotel _en route_ for the dockyard, and by eight o’clock ‘123’ had been tied up to the quay-wall as if she were never intended to leave the all-embracing docks of Darlton. The Engineer Commander and Raymond put in an appearance by the time all was ready, and the worthy Hoskins and his staff were very much in evidence. A final inspection and polish up were made, and then the motors were started and the engine clutches forced home.

There was the usual fizz and bump as the exhausts coughed out the initial clouds of white smoke and the explosions became quicker and quicker. The port engine got well away, but after a manful effort the chugging of the starboard Diesel wavered and dragged and stopped altogether. ‘123’ had surged forward when the screws began to revolve, and was tugging at her mooring ropes like a terrier on a lead, in spite of the fact that only half her power was under weigh. But the ropes held her, and presently Hoskins’s face appeared up the engine-room hatch shouting an explanation through the din made by the well-behaved port engine. After a couple of false starts, during which time the Engineer Commander and the E.R.A. gravely combated over her behaviour (blood brothers for the moment), the trouble was rectified, and the defaulter made good her character. Full speed was slowly worked up to, and the boat lay to the quay with her propellers turning at many revolutions a minute.

Presently the Commander took himself off, and even Raymond was satisfied when the worthy Hoskins, who held in great scorn all dockyard work, pronounced that ‘though they ’aven’t done wot they ought to ’ave, wot they ’ave done ain’t bad.’

The test took the greater part of the day, and it was arranged that the diving trial should take place on the morrow. This would be the supreme test, when all the work of the re-fit would be put to the proof, and several of the dockyard officers and contractors’ people were to come down in the boat to see it carried out. Raymond was rather pleased about it, although he hated passengers, for, as he put it himself: ‘It brings it home to those beggars far more if they’re in the boat when anything goes wrong than if we just come in and tell ’em about it afterwards.’

And so the next day the diving trials took place. The passengers were aboard ten minutes before the scheduled time for leaving, and as the hour struck, ‘123’ pushed off from the quay and steered out of the harbour, at the entrance to which she was met by a trawler flying a large red flag, who was to warn all outside traffic of the presence of a submarine.

As a large number of alterations and additions had been effected which were liable to alter her trim, the tanks were all empty, with the exception of the fuel tanks, and she was to do a standing trim in shallow water. That is, she was to remain stopped, flood her main ballast, and then very gingerly admit the necessary extra water to take her down.

Three miles outside the harbour she brought up in the appointed spot and came to a standstill, the passengers were hurried below, and the order given for ‘diving stations.’ Then Boyd and the coxswain climbed down the conning-tower hatch, followed by Raymond, who, after closing the lid, opened one of the scuttle guards and remained up in the tower. From here he could see through the thick glass the trim of the boat and the manner in which she was taking the water. Boyd was at the periscope, and Seagrave was wandering all over the boat, superintending and seeing that all was in readiness. The dockyard people, most of whom had not been down in a submarine before, ‘stood round,’ looking rather foolish. They were beginning to realise that their lives were in the hands of the Lieut.-Commander they had been wont to beard in their own fastnesses, and a sense of proportion was slowly dawning within them. The crew were at their ordinary diving stations, and Seagrave reported ‘All ready, sir.’

‘Flood 1 and 4,’ said Raymond, and over came the Kingston levers, and as the vents were opened the water could be heard gurgling into the tanks. 2 and 3 were flooded in the same manner, and the boat was in main ballast trim. Then the trimming tanks were partially filled, and as the buoyancy flooded the boat began to have a tender feeling as if she were on the tremble, and the water began lapping into the superstructure overhead as she settled down.

‘How is she?’ asked the captain.

‘Two degrees by the stern, sir,’ replied the coxswain.

‘Another 500 in the fore, then,’ and five hundred gallons more were admitted, when the coxswain reported ‘Horizontal, sir.’

‘Right. Eleven thousand in the auxiliary.’

The auxiliary vent was opened while a stoker hauled back the Kingston, and Seagrave watched the gauge as the level crept up in the glass tube. Presently he gave an order, and the lever was snapped back into position.

‘Eleven thousand, sir.’

‘All right,’ came Raymond’s voice from the conning-tower. ‘Is she showing anything on the depth-gauge?’

‘Three feet, sir.’

‘Give her another five hundred.’

Meanwhile Boyd at the periscope was keeping a careful look out for approaching craft. A collier in her way in came perilously close, but the watchful trawler headed her off and led her out of harm’s way. As the tanks flooded his sky view became less and less; as the instrument was fully hoisted he could guess she was settling down before the gauge began to register.

Finally, Raymond came down from the control room to see that all was as it should be.

‘She’ll do now,’ he explained to the passengers. ‘She’s got all the ballast she wants, and only needs a touch to take her down. We’re like a bottle half-full of water--just on the bob, as it were.’ Another look round and then: ‘Start the motors,’ he added ‘Full fields. Take her down gently.’

The boat gave a slight shudder, and the sound of the water could be heard lapping past her as she gathered weigh. The coxswains spun their wheels, eyes on the gauge, and gradually she crept down to thirty feet.

‘Hold her at that,’ said Raymond, and then he and Seagrave and the dockyard experts made a tour of the boat, while Boyd lowered the periscope and kept an eye on the helmsman to see that he was on his course. The inspection proved satisfactory (it was a lengthy business), and the party returned to the control room, and Raymond ordered the motors to be stopped and the boat was brought up to 18 feet.

‘All clear, Boyd?’ he asked.

‘All clear, sir. The trawler’s just astern.’

‘Right. Group up. Thirty feet.’

‘Grouped up, sir,’ from Furness, as the grouper-switch came over with a bang and the motors got away in earnest.

The boat was doing a good eight knots now, and could be felt vibrating through the water as the speed increased. All eyes were on the gauges, the coxswains watching their depths and the L.T.O.s their ammeters as Raymond increased to 800 amperes. Then once more the motors were stopped and the batteries placed in parallel or ‘grouped down,’ and then came the order,--

‘Eighty feet.’

As the hydroplane and diving rudder wheels went over, the visitors’ expressions became a little tense and anxious. One of them laughed and cracked a stale joke, another fidgeted with a bunch of keys, but nobody said anything.

That sense of proportion was developing.

The depth needle crept up to the requisite depth and steadied, and then another tour of inspection took place, for leaks this time, and was also pronounced satisfactory. The visitors breathed again, but thoughts of the fresh air and sunlight up above _would_ obtrude themselves nevertheless. It seemed so still and quiet, and the electric light glared and winked on the brass work while up above....

‘A hundred feet.’

Somebody coughed nervously (it was _not_ one of the crew) and the boat continued her descent. At the hundred foot level she steadied and the final inspection was made, and to the great relief of certain members of the passengers, who were thinking about that pressure of 45 lb. to the square inch, the boat rose to thirty feet, the motors were stopped, and Raymond gave the order,--

‘Blow 1, 2, and 3.’

The Kingstons were opened, and Hoskins on the air-manifold got the air in group working, the depth needle hurried back to zero, and Raymond clambered up the conning-tower and threw open the hatch.

‘One,’ he shouted, ‘two, three,’ as the tanks emptied, and then the burly coxswain pushed his way up and took the helm, followed by Boyd and the much-relieved dockyard potentates.

A bell rang below and the engines were started up. The protecting trawler bore down on them, and they were off for the harbour at ten good knots an hour. No fuss, no noise, but the visitors were thinking and thinking hard. They had something to tell their wives about when they got home that evening, and appeared a little thoughtful for a day or two afterwards.

As they came in through the harbour gates a small crowd of workmen watched them go by. They didn’t see many submarines in Darlton, and it was quite an event for them. Her mast was hoisted and her White Ensign stood out stiffly in the morning breeze as she stood across the dock and tied up once more alongside the quay.

The passengers stepped ashore with a sigh of relief, and with profuse thanks for ‘an interesting experience’ and well wishes for the future, made off to mark the day with a red letter in their calendars. Raymond smiled as he watched them go. As for Seagrave, he was consulting with Hoskins over a stiff Kingston lever, and Boyd was closing down the gyro compass.

* * * * *

The final stores were taken in in the afternoon, mostly tinned food and brass polish and the hundred and one small items that crop up at the last moment. The provisions presented quite a formidable array, for the modern submarine is able to carry a large amount for cases of necessity, which her electric cooking-range is able to cope with, and prepare in any manner of which the cook is capable. In addition to her preserved rations, she also carries sufficient fresh meat for her wants, if on a short patrol, or at any rate enough for two or three days if the outing is to be a lengthy one.

By evening the final touches had been added, and ‘123’ lay to the quay a wiser and a better boat. She and her officers knew a great deal more about her than they had known before she was hauled to pieces, and smacked and riveted by the dockyard hordes.

The boat was locked up for the night, and the coxswain and his men trooped off to supper in the barracks; Boyd and Seagrave returned to the hotel, and Raymond went off to the S.N.O.’s office to report his boat finished and ready to return to her base.

It was not till dinner, eaten in the dining-room of the hotel, a chamber that reminded one of past glories and ancient pomp and circumstance, that he put in an appearance. The room was fairly crowded when he arrived, as he was rather late, and he had to thread his way between the other guests’ chairs to reach the table the three occupied on the window side of the room.

Anxious mamma glanced severely at him, slightly bored papa exchanged a nod and a good-evening, and demure Miss So-and-So smiled into her plate. A large portion of the remainder were military officers passing through the town or staying for a short while on duty. Those of his own seniority hailed him with aplomb; he had a knack of making himself liked everywhere.

‘Well?’ queried Seagrave, as his captain sat down.

‘Curious news,’ began Raymond, attacking the soup. ‘From a Service point of view I’m fed up about it, but from a purely personal standpoint it’s jolly good business. We can’t go back to base for another three days, as they can’t get an escort before then.’

‘What awful rot; you’d think they’d have plenty of Destroyers knocking about doing nothing, or at the worst they might let us go up by ourselves.’

‘And get sunk by our own patrols on the first night up. No thank you, George, not for mine this journey. You as a young and able officer ought to be jolly pleased to think you can have another whole three days among this bevy of beauty. You don’t make the most of your chances.’

‘This is such a dull hole, though,’ put in Boyd; ‘you can’t get much in the way of amusements in the evening. What on earth can we do to shake things?’

‘Now wait, I have an idea. I feel it maturing,’ said Raymond, holding his hand to his brow. ‘Don’t speak for a moment, it’s coming. Ah-h-h, I have it! We’ll give a dance, a Submarine dance here in the hotel; the drawing-room will be just the place, and we’ll invite all the old fogies who’re staying here, and a few choice spirits of our own for leavening. It’ll be all right, the manager and I are old pals, and I’ve done it before. I’ll try and fix it for to-morrow night. It begins with men only, and we give them a practice attack with pillows for torpedoes and Boyd for the periscope. That comes off in my room, by the way. Then we adjourn to the drawing-room, and the damsels troop in, and we get the show going. Little Miss Bored Stiff, or whatever her name is, will be only too pleased to bang on the piano, I feel sure. What do you think of it?’

‘Not so dusty. What about clothes, though?’

‘Just monkey jackets and bow ties and white kid gloves. Oh, and you can’t disgrace me by appearing in those disreputable old pumps, so you’ll have to trot out and buy new ones. What about you, Seagrave?’

‘I was just thinking. I don’t seem to remember having a decent suit to my name, but I’ll do my best.’

After dinner the manager was approached and the subject gently broached to him. It took an effort, but after a little while he proved amenable, and agreed to provide decorations and refreshments in return for the addition of certain items on the officers’ extra bills. Miss Bored Stiff, after a deal of gushing, agreed to do her share, and the invitations were sent out the next morning.

‘The officers of H.M. Submarine “123” request the pleasure of the company of ---- at a Submarine dance to-night in the drawing-room at 9.0. p.m.’