The flying reporter was fascinated as the second hand of his own watch ticked off the precious seconds. It might be ticking life and death for all aboard the _S-18_, 205 feet below the surface of the sound. Ten, seven, five, three seconds left. A muffled explosion shook the hull of the _S-18_. "Motors full ahead!" shouted Commander Ford. The powerful electrics leaped into action. The steel deck beneath them quivered. They were moving! It was slow at first, but the _S-18_ was shaking the slime of the bottom off its hull. Then, with a sickening leap, they shot upward, motors on full, diving planes at the sharpest angle. Men tumbled around in the control room like dry leaves before an autumn gale. The _S-18_, out of control, was shooting toward the surface. Pat managed to scramble to his feet and seized the wheel which controlled the forward diving rudders. With a quick twist he lessened the sharp angle of their ascent. Before the other men could crawl back to their stations, the grey nose of the submarine shot above the surface of the sound. It must have risen ten feet out of water, then as the rest of the sub came to the surface, slapped back into the water with a resounding crash. Everyone aboard was jarred by the shock. "Tanks clear of water, diving planes normal?" Questions shot from the lips of Commander Ford. Before the main hatch was opened and the sunlight streamed in, he made sure that the _S-18_ had not been seriously damaged by its sudden rise. In spite of the great pressure, not a seam in the hull had been opened and the crew scrambled out on deck for a breath of fresh air. The seaplane was still circling overhead and with a shock Tim realized they had been on the bottom less than half an hour. It had seemed a lifetime. To the veteran submarine men the harrowing experience on the bottom of the sound seemed all in the day's work, but to Tim it was an incident he would remember all the rest of his life. "No more garbage scows for mine," grinned Pat. "That was a little too close for comfort." "I'd just as soon fly down to the Caribbean," said Tim as he watched the seaplane gracefully circling overhead. Commander Ford joined them. "After that test there's no question about the seaworthiness of the _S-18_. We're putting back to the Laidlaw yard at once. We'll start south sometime tomorrow." That was news and Tim went below and dictated a story to Ike Green, who sent it to the Journal station. It was the first story sent directly from the _S-18_. That night when they were back in the yard, a truck lumbered through the main gate, a winch on the dock clattered noisily and a long, cigar-shaped object came slowly down. A forward hatch was opened and the torpedo locked securely in its rack. After that a case of shells for the four-inch gun and three machine guns and a half dozen automatic rifles and sixteen revolvers with plenty of ammunition were lowered from the dock.