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The least deviation of the sub's course from the horizontal and these two instruments, lit up by electric lamps, showed it at once. There was a big dial, with a long green hand, which also marked the depth of the sub; but that was an insensitive and rather slow-acting gauge all right for the crew to look at from half the length of the sub, but not fine or quick enough for the diving-rudder man.
What happened to you fellows?" Zimby confirmed Bud's guess that they had taken off in pursuit of the enemy craft. "We figured Bud and Mel could make out on their own," Zimby explained. "And we thought the sub's course or actions might tip us off to its nationality. Also, if it tried any sabotage or mine-planting, we could radio the Navy."
"If I could drink like Kirby or Crowninshield, or if there was any other cursed thing a man could do in this hole," he had wretchedly repeated to himself, after each misspent occasion, and yet already he was looking forward to them as part of a 'sub's' duty and worthy his emulation. Already the dream of social recreation fostered by West Point had been rudely dispelled.
Once they ran a race with a great white bear, and again they sighted a school of whales. They gave these a wide berth, for should they grow friendly and mix their great flippers with the sub's propeller, trouble would follow. Walrus, too, were avoided, for they had a playful habit of bumping the under-surface of any craft they might chance to meet.
"But we haven't got time," Bud protested. "Our own sub's waiting right offshore and we want to tail the sub that brought those guys here! We're from the Swift rocket base." "Any identification?" the sergeant asked. "How could we have in this getup?" Mel retorted. "That's what I thought. So get moving," the sergeant barked.
From subsequent developments it appears that a Hun seaplane saw us and proceeded to bomb us with great good will but indifferent success." "We ought never to have been there," interrupted the First Lieutenant coldly. "Bad navigation on the Captain's part." "Granted," said the Lieutenant-Commander. "The first bomb was rather wide of the mark, but it woke me, and I saw the Sub's eyelids flicker.
One reason for this trial run was to prove that she could run so many miles an hour under water by the power of her storage-batteries alone. And soon she went at that. And no mild racket inside her then; for a sub's engine power and space are out of all proportion to her tonnage.
"What's not absorbed will return as an echo. I'm also going to modify our receivers. But I've still not worked that out." Bud nodded, his forehead puckered in a look of concentration. "So ?" "So our sonar picks up all that hash, and by means of a computer setup filters out the sub's real echo from the shadow reflections." "Hey! Sounds pretty cute," Bud said. Tom broke into a dry chuckle.
Ten years back, in the pride of my giddy youth, I held a Junior Sub's commission in the Lancers in India. This is just a synopsis of my case, mind! . . . Well! the regiment was lying at Rawal Pindi, and I guess I kind of ran amuck there got myself into a rotten esclandre entirely my own fault I'll admit: Man is fire, and Woman is tow, And the Devil, he comes and begins to blow
"Not much of a library, I'm afraid," said the host, seating himself. "I'm not much of a reader myself. The Sub's the bookworm of this boat." The First Lieutenant of the Submarine shot a swift glance of suspicion at his Commanding Officer as he helped himself to a chop. The look, however, appeared to pass unnoticed.
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