Nearly all the crew who were not on watch were up on deck; crowded on the conning-tower, round the gun, anywhere where they could keep a safe footing against the now gentle roll and get a breath of fresh air after the trials and stuffy atmosphere of the night below. Up the hatch came the voice of the cheerful stoker impressing on the signalman that ‘he didn’t want to lose him, but he thought he ought to go,’ as the latter struggled up with his arms full of flags, and, bending on a couple, hoisted them to the yard-arm of the telescopic mast. ‘Entrance signal up, sir,’ he reported. ‘All right,’ said Raymond. ‘What’s that on the starboard bow?’ The signalman clapped his glass to his eye and sucked his teeth. ‘British submarine, sir, approaching the harbour from the northward. I think it’s “159,” sir. She seems to be keeping level.’ Raymond jerked the bell. ‘Three fifty revs!’ he shouted down the hatch. ‘We’ll show her what we can do now. We’ll make Snatcher look old-fashioned.’ The boat jumped ahead, but although the two submarines were on courses converging to the harbour mouth, she showed no signs of gaining on the wily ‘159.’ Raymond frowned. Then he rang the bell again and said,-- ‘Ask the chief E.R.A. to speak to me, please.’ Presently Hoskins appeared, accompanied by his eternal dirty face, cheerful grin, and lump of oily waste. ‘Sir?’ he queried. Raymond didn’t speak. He merely pointed to the offending craft on the starboard beam. A light of comprehension dawned on the artificer’s face. His grin broadened and he fled below. Twenty minutes later ‘123’ shot through the harbour-gate a good quarter of a mile ahead of her adversary, and as she passed the piers the captain gave the order ‘harbour stations.’ The coxswain took the helm. It was his prerogative, and entering or leaving port none but he was entrusted with the wheel. The remainder of the crew who could be spared from below fell in and stood at ease on the superstructure, both forward and abaft the conning-tower, under the orders of Seagrave. As they passed the first of the big ships lying at anchor, the ‘Sub’ gave a sharp order, and the men came to attention facing towards her, and as the quarter deck drew abeam, Raymond raised his hand in a salute which was answered from the battleship by the officer on the watch. ‘’Bout turn!’ ordered Seagrave, as they passed the next ship, and once more salutes were exchanged. By now ‘123’ was well up the bay, and the _Parentis_ was visible as the boat threaded her way through the crowded harbour. ‘Finished harbour stations,’ ordered Raymond. ‘Stand by to go alongside.’ Then down the conning-tower hatch,-- ‘Motors, group down! Three hundred!’ ‘Both engine clutches out, sir,’ came the reply. ‘Three ’undred, sir.’ The exhaust wavered and died away; there was a pause, and then the faint churning aft indicated that the screws were being turned by the electric motors, which were taking three hundred amperes.