Pinned Down
"Something heavy athwart us, sir," remarked Lieutenant Macquare,
stating what was an obvious fact to all on board. "But she's standing
it all right."
"I wonder what it can be?" asked the Lieutenant-Commander.
"Just as likely as not a sinking torpedo-boat has inconsiderately
dropped on top of us," surmised the Lieutenant. "If so, the question
is how are we to come to the surface? It will take a lot of our
reserve of buoyancy to overcome the suction of the mud, and with that
lump of metal pinning us down----! Must look facts fairly in the
face, sir."
The Lieutenant-Commander was on the horns of a dilemma. In order to
prevent R19 sinking deeper and deeper into the ooze under the
abnormal pressure of the unknown mass athwart her deck the submarine
ought to be either brought to the surface or, failing that, kept
"lively".
Any attempt in either direction would have the result of stirring up
the already muddy water, and to such an extent that the presence of
the lurking submarine would be made known to the hostile
patrol-boats.
"We'll stand fast for a few hours," decided the Hon. Derek. "If the
worst comes to the worst we'll have to shed our ballast keel,
although, goodness only knows, then we'll be properly in the soup."
Amongst other mechanical devices R19 was provided with a heavy metal
keel that in case of emergency could be released from within.
Deprived of this anti-buoyant contrivance she would rise rapidly to
the surface. It was a step to be taken only as a desperate resort,
for before the compensating water-ballast tanks could be filled
several precious minutes must necessarily elapse, during which time
the submarine would be a target for every quick-firer within range.
"Very good, sir," replied Macquare.
He was quite content to accept his chief's decision without question.
Not having been asked his opinion on the matter, he offered none. He
was one of those men who knew how to give orders and receive them.
Even if he were convinced in his own mind of an error of judgment on
the part of his skipper, his strict adherence to the principles of
discipline would have kept him silent.
For another six long-drawn hours the blinded submarine lay
motionless. Fortunately there were no signs of the hull plating
collapsing under the weight of the obstruction. Apart from the
slight, almost imperceptible, leak in the roof of Fordyce's cabin
--for the artificers had tackled the job promptly and
effectually--the hull of R19 was as tight as a bottle.
"We'll risk it now, I think," declared the Hon. Derek as he consulted
his wristlet watch. "Start the auxiliary ballast-tanks first and see
how she likes it."
The powerful, double-action pumps quickly ejected the water-ballast.
In ordinary circumstances the submarine should have risen to the
surface. She showed no tendency in that direction. Without any
exhibition of liveliness she lay obstinately on the bed of the sea.
"Nothin' doin'!" commented the Hon. Derek. "Give her half speed
ahead."
The dynamos purred. The hull trembled under the action of the twin
propellers. Whether the submarine was forging ahead was a matter for
speculation. Certain it was that she was failing to respond to the
deflection of the horizontal diving-rudders.
"Stop! Half speed astern."
Beyond an increased reverberation of the hull nothing resulted. Even
when the Lieutenant-Commander took the somewhat desperate step of
ordering full speed astern R19 failed to respond.
"Blow main ballast-tanks," was the next order.
The submarine now showed a certain liveliness, although in her
present trim she ought to be floating with nearly six feet of
freeboard.
"She's trying to lift herself aft, sir," reported Fordyce.
"Is she, by Jove!" exclaimed the Lieutenant-Commander. "Send all
available hands for'ard, and see if that makes any difference."
Quickly the men made their way to the first and second compartments,
and, taking their time from the Lieutenant, ran from side to side as
far as the congested state of the vessel permitted. At the same time
the motors were running full speed astern.
For full five minutes the manoeuvre was mantained without tangible
result; then, with dramatic suddenness, R19 shot obliquely towards
the open air.
The first intimation that the submarine had "broken surface" was the
terrific and disconcerting racing of the engines as the twin
propellers revolved at high speed in the air.
Promptly the artificers switched off the current, and R19, well down
by the bows, floated motionless.
Momentarily expecting a fusillade from one, if not more, German
destroyers, the Hon. Derek rushed up the ladder to the conning-tower
and strove to open the hatch. The locking-bolts refused to budge. The
blow that the submarine had received before her latest dive had
jammed the closely-fitting metal plate.
The after hatch gave better results. Followed by Fordyce, the Hon.
Derek gained the open air.
With feelings of relief, both officers realized that all immediate
danger was past. Not an enemy vessel was in sight. A couple of miles
to the south-east'ard lay the stranded and partly-submerged hull of a
large Russian battleship.
Her upper-works were rent and shattered by gun-fire. Military masts
and funnels had gone by the board. From the sole remaining turret a
pair of 12-inch guns projected at a grotesque angle to each other.
Dense clouds of smoke were pouring from the battery.
Fordyce glanced at the lowering bank of clouds overhead and listened
intently. He could faintly discern the bass hum of an aerial
propeller. Somewhere in that great vault of vapour a sea-plane was
cleaving the air, invisible from the submarine's deck, but liable at
any moment to swoop within view.
The risk of being bombed had to be taken. The first important task
was to discover what it was that was pinning down the submarine's
bows, and to take steps to rectify matters.
R19's stern was almost clear of the water. As she dipped to the long
sullen swell, the tips of her propellers just touched the waves.
Amidships, the base of the conning-tower was just awash, but the rise
of the navigation-platform prevented further investigation from the
spot where the Lieutenant-Commander and the Sub stood.
"Pass the word for all hands on deck," ordered Stockdale. "Fall in
aft."
Silently the men trooped from below. Their combined weight had the
effect of restoring the vessel to a slightly better trim, and it was
now possible for an investigation to be made of the for'ard part of
the deck.
Examination showed that a shell had exploded close to the
conning-tower, for the massive steel-work bore visible signs of the
impact of the flying slivers of metal. One of the principal tubes had
vanished, being shorn off close to the top of the conning-tower; the
other, buckled by a fragment of shell, trailed drunkenly over the
side, rasping and grinding with every roll of the vessel.
Springing upon the raised platform, Fordyce made his way for'ard and
past the rise of the conning-tower until further progress was stopped
by a huge cylindro-conical mass of metal lying athwart the deck. It
was an unexploded 15-inch shell, weighing more than a ton. Missing
its objective, the ponderous missile had sunk until it had alighted
fairly upon R19's deck.
Before the Sub could return and make his report, the roar of the
aerial motors grew deafening, and out of the clouds swept a large,
double-fuselaged biplane, bearing the distinctive Black Cross of
Germany.