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Updated: May 14, 2025
Luckily we started the Diesels with ease, and in a few minutes gusts of beautiful air were circulating through the boat. Meanwhile, what of the enemy? I had half expected a shell as soon as we came up, and it was with great anxiety that I looked round. We had been slightly favoured by fortune in that the only thing in sight was a trawler away on the port beam. It was our hunter.
I feel instinctively that I shall have trouble here, and that I had better haul off a lee shore whilst there is manoeuvring room, and yet and yet I secretly rejoice that every revolution of the propeller, every clank and rattle of the Diesels brings us closer together.
Old J. John Reynolds appeared at the final moment to smile dryly and to flap a waxy hand. "So long, sir... Thanks..." they all shouted as the diesels of the trucks whirred and then roared. J. John still had never been around the shop. It was only Frank who had seen him regularly, every week. It might have been impertinent for them to say that they'd make him really rich.
At 3.30 p.m. the supreme crisis was reached: two more men fainted, and I realized that if I did not surface at once I might find the crew incapable of starting the Diesels. At the order "Surface," a feeble cheer came from the men. We surfaced, and I dragged myself-up to the conning tower.
At any rate, it is a snug anchorage, and here I intend to remain for a few days, and hope for my store-ship to turn up. I've posted a daylight look-out on top of the bluff; it would be very awkward to be caught unawares in this place, which is only about 150 metres wide in places. I'm taking advantage of the rest to give the crew some exercises and execute various minor repairs to the Diesels.
I am so worn out that my body screams for sleep, but it is denied to me, and so, lest I go mad, I write; it is better to do this, though my eyes ache and the letters seem to wriggle, than to stand up on the bridge looking for the smoke of our enemies, or to lie in my bunk and count the revolutions of the Diesels; thousands of thousands of thudding beats, one after the other, relentless hammer strokes.
"Then we should be close in...." "Give us ten minutes more ... if we don't go aground in this accursed blackness!" A broad-shouldered body passed between Lanyard and the binnacle, momentarily eclipsing its light. Down below in the operating room a bell shrilled, and of a sudden the Diesels were silenced.
If anything is to be done toward making the submarine a vessel of ordinary everyday use the present double system of motors the Diesels for surface navigation and the electric for submerged service will have to be abandoned. Inventors however are diligently working on this problem to-day. Indeed so well known and successful a builder of submarines as Mr.
His lead boats were being crowded back against their fellows with a twisting movement which was carrying them in the direction of the reef. The channel had been too narrow to break through the solid wall of Diesels. A puff of wind from the southeast helped Mascola to make up his mind.
On the surface too the boat rolls and pitches and the stranger passenger, unequipped with sea legs grabs for support as the subway rider reaches for a strap on the curves. But let the order come to submerge. The Diesels are stopped. The electric motors take up the task, spinning noiselessly in their jackets. In a moment or two all rolling ceases.
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