With the air-manifold Hoskins was blowing water from the fore-trim into the tubes, and forward they were watching the gauges. A hiss and a spurt of water and the E.R.A. shut off the blow and mopped his brow with a piece of dirty waste. ‘Down periscope. Steer south-west,’ in the incisive tones of the captain. ‘Firing tanks charged, sir,’ came Seagrave’s voice from forward. ‘Tubes flooded.’ ‘Ay, ay,’ called Raymond. It was all so sudden. Ten minutes ago and they had all been sleeping peacefully or keeping a monotonous and familiar watch. And now, in another ten minutes? Well, rats in a trap might have a better chance ... if anything went wrong. ‘Up periscope,’ came the captain’s voice again. ‘Keep a steady course. Bearing 215 deg., Boyd. Stand by.’ ‘Stand by,’ called Seagrave from forward. Then, as the valves and cocks were opened, ‘All ready, sir.’ All eyes were glued on the gauges and meters. ‘When I fire dive to sixty feet,’ broke in Raymond. ‘What’s her depth? Keep her down, man. Steady. Oh, damn! he’s seen me. Fire!’ As the boat shook to the release of the torpedo, the coxswains buzzed their wheels round, but owing to the sudden alteration in weight the boat wouldn’t answer quickly. ‘Saw the wake of the periscope in this flat calm,’ went on Raymond, more to himself than the crew. ‘Oughtn’t to have attacked. Take her down, I tell you. They’ve altered course to ram, and they’re firing at us. Oh, hell! Flood the auxiliary. Quick, now. Down periscope.’ As the auxiliary Kingston and vent came open the boat began to feel it, and dived quickly. At fifty feet a roaring noise overhead like a train passing through a tunnel announced that one of the Destroyers was passing over them, and at eighty feet an explosion, which shook the boat to her internals, announced that the enemy had dropped a depth-charge above them, and that they had gone down none too quickly. The lights went out. Somewhere the shock had parted a lead, and for two horrible moments they went in pitch darkness plunging down to the bottom of the sea. ‘What water is there, Boyd?’ came the captain’s steady voice from the control room. ‘Twenty-five fathoms, sir,’ the navigator answered out of the darkness. ‘All right. Hold her up, coxswain.’ ‘Ay, ay, sir. Can’t see the depth-gauge.’ Then they struck. Struck the bottom at 150 feet, with a slight cant downwards at a speed of five knots. Mercifully the L.T.O., groping through the darkness, got to the emergency switch, and the spare lights came on just in time. ‘Stop the motors,’ called Raymond. ‘Is the bow-cap closed?’ ‘Closed it as soon as we fired, sir, and drained the tubes,’ answered Seagrave. ‘Good. I fired as the leading Destroyer turned to ram. Missed, of course, but she was firing at us, and she’d have rammed us if we hadn’t got the mouldies off. She had to alter course for them, and as it was that depth-charge was pretty close.’