‘After that I sat down and wondered whether it was worth it or if I could wait a bit and see if they was goin’ to lift the boat, but the waitin’ got on my nerves, and I thought I might as well see it through. So I opened up the No. 4 Kingston, and in come the water through the man’ole door what I’d took off. It rose mighty fast, too, and after it got over the Kingston wheel I knew it was neck or nothin’, as they say, ’cos I could never stop the water comin’ in again if I wanted to. So I climbed up the ladder and ’ung on under the engine-room ’atch and watched the water risin’. ‘Of course the air compressed somethin’ cruel, and when I thought it was enough I shoved away the strong-back and tried to push the ’atch up. It only lifted an inch or so and come down again with a bang, lettin’ in a torrent of water that knocked me off o’ the ladder, and I was swimmin’ about in the engine-room for a bit before I got ’old of it again. The water was within two foot o’ the roof by then and bangin’ me up against it, so I thought ’ere goes, and I give the ’atch a push. Lumme, I don’t rightly know _wot_ ’appened then, but I went up like a cork out of a bubbly bottle, and never knew no more till I woke up one day in this ’ere ’ospital. Mr Hellison, ’e come down and see me, and I’m goin’ back with ’im, and that’s all there is to it.’ The narrator drew a long breath, and paused to watch the effect of his story. ‘Thanks,’ I said simply. There seemed nothing else to say. He grinned broadly. ‘Wot do you think of it?’ he queried. ‘Sons of the sea and bloomin’ sky-blue ’eroes, wot?’ ‘It must have been an awful experience,’ I ventured. ‘Don’t you believe it, mate; “a life on the ocean wave,” and honest Jack the sailor, that’s wot you think,’ and he chuckled at some obscure joke. ‘I tell you, though, I was scared, mind yer. Not at the time: I was too busy savin’ myself then, but afterwards, lyin’ ’ere in bed; wot with me bein’ weak and so on, I used to imagine I was down there in the dark again, and I used to dream about it and wake up in a sweat.’ ‘And yet you’re stopping in submarines?’ ‘You betcher. Did you ever, when you was a little ’un, think you saw somethin’ in the dark or feel that some one was be’ind you?’ I nodded. ‘Well, _I_ used to, and my mother she always told me, “Phil,” she used to say, “whenever you feels like that, turn round and touch wot’s scarin’ you, and when you feels nothin’ you’ll know it’s all right.” It’s just the same as that. I’ll go back, and once I’m in a boat again I’ll feel as right as a trivet, it’s the bein’ away and thinkin’ that does the damage.’ ‘I think I see. You mean it’s the shadow that hurts, not the substance.’ ‘You’ve got it, guvnor; that’s wot it is. But ’ere’s the sister comin’, so I guess you’ll ’ave to ’op it.’ ‘Your time’s up,’ said the sister, smiling. ‘We can’t allow him to talk too much, and he will keep on talking.’