In the engine-room the E.R.A.’s were bustling round the engines, and in the middle of dinner the report came forward, ‘Engines ready, sir.’ The atmosphere was getting fuggy, and everything seemed sticky, though there was no difficulty in breathing yet. ‘We’re certainly in for it,’ said Raymond. ‘We shan’t get home before daylight, and I shall let her go slowly most of the time if it’s too bad. Now then, ten to seven; shake it up with that cheese, Boyd, and let’s get busy.’ A messenger appeared holding a bundle in his hand, which he offered to the captain. ‘What the devil’s that thing?’ demanded Raymond. ‘Take it away. I don’t want your dish swabs here.’ ‘It’s your shirt, sir,’ replied the youth, without a smile. ‘That nasty looking thing?’ replied the skipper, seizing it and holding it at arm’s length. ‘Just look at the straits I am reduced to. However, it’s better than this prickly lammy coat I’ve been wearing.’ ‘Seven o’clock, sir,’ said Seagrave, looking at his watch. ‘Right. Diving stations!’ ordered Raymond, struggling into the garment as he hoisted the periscope. ‘Blow 1, 2, and 3 main ballast. Pump three thousand out of the auxiliary.’ ‘Start the pump on the auxiliary. Open 1, 2, and 3 Kingstons,’ shouted the ‘Sub.’ Up she came, the depth-needle hurrying back to zero. She was in surface trim now, and, carefully opening the hatch, Raymond, Boyd, and the helmsman, clad in oilskins and sea-boots, clambered on deck, the latter carrying the Sperry repeater. ‘One,’ shouted the captain down the hatch, as a great spout of white water showed forward. Then later, ‘two ... three. Upper deck control. Open the vents!’ The tanks were out and the air was churning up the sea outside. Hoskins shut off the blows, and at Seagrave’s orders all vents and Kingstons were closed. ‘Engines!’ bellowed Raymond, ‘two fifty revs.’ With a fizz and a bang they were off, the smell of the petrol on starting pervading the bridge in spite of the strong wind. It was a dirty night. Even a fair-sized vessel would have felt it, and to ‘123’ the sea was dangerously heavy. The sun had just set, the sky was overcast, and rain was beginning to fall. The north-westerly wind was still increasing in force and raising a sea that caught them just before the beam. Night fell, bringing pitch darkness and torrents of rain in its wake. The sea was quite steep now, but the wind was steady. Great rollers came out of the darkness, hit the submarine’s starboard side, broke over her in a deluge of spray, and vanished again to leeward. The superstructure was hardly ever out of water, and now and again a sea swept right over the conning-tower, drenching to the skin the unfortunate men who were hanging on for dear life. About nine o’clock Raymond eased her down to two hundred revs.