‘Give Seagrave a shake when you get below,’ the skipper called after him. ‘Tell him I’m going to dive in ten minutes.’ ‘Achchha, Sahib,’ and Boyd vanished below. Raymond sat down and lit a pipe, keeping a careful look-out over the oily swell of smooth water. Presently he pressed the telegraph switches and the engines stopped. ‘Diving stations!’ he ordered. ‘Shut off for diving! Lower deck control!’ ‘Both engine clutches out, sir,’ bellowed a voice from below. ‘Ay, ay,’ returned the skipper, and then turning to the helmsman,-- ‘Down below,’ he added. The sailor closed the magnetic compass lid and screwed it well home, unshipped the gyro repeater and decamped to continue his task at the steering position in the control room. Raymond took a final look round, and collecting the spare glasses and all the odd gear about the bridge, clambered down the conning-tower, shutting the lid after him, and screwing the strong back well into position. On the order ‘Diving stations,’ the scene below had become one of ordered confusion. Every man had his own station and duty to perform, both when diving and rising, and by the time Raymond got below all was ready. Hoskins, the Chief E.R.A., was at the air manifold, ready to let the air out of the smaller tanks and so admit the water. The L.T.O. and an S.T. stood by to start the motors, while the remainder were closing battery ventilators, giving a final wrench at a hatch batten, and standing by the great vent valves. Forward the T.I.[6] was fussing over a tube door, while in the engine-room the E.R.A.’s and stokers were saying soothing words to the silent engines. Over all this Seagrave reigned supreme. This was his ‘pidgeon,’ and he ran his crew of twenty-three with the capability of a veteran in spite of his youthful appearance. Boyd sat working out his sights. He didn’t come into this part of the business. ‘Shut off for diving, sir,’ came a voice from the engine-room, and ‘All ready, sir,’ from Seagrave. The captain pressed a small switch and the periscope slid upwards till its lower end was at a comfortable height. He applied his eye to it and looked carefully round. The voice of the musical stoker filtered in from the engine-room,-- ‘Mother takes in wringings-out, So does sister Anne. Everybody works in our boat, But the L.T.O.’ ‘You shut yer ’ead,’ came the answer. ‘Pity you ain’t got more to do than----’ ‘Flood 1 and 4,’ ordered Raymond. ‘Open 1 and 4 Kingstons and 1 and 4 main vents!’ shouted Seagrave. Two stokers wrenched back the Kingston levers, while a couple of seamen reached up and screwed open the vent valves. The coxswain and second coxswains took their stand by the hydroplane and diving rudder wheels. ‘Flood 2.’ ‘Open No. 2 Kingston and No. 2 main vent,’ from the ‘Sub.’ A hiss and a spurt of water came from the air manifold, and Hoskins looked over his shoulder as he worked at the spindles. ‘1 and 4 full, sir,’ he reported.