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Chapter 3
Those were anxious days, during which I had but little opportunity to associate
with Lys. I had given her the commander's room, Bradley and I taking that of the
deck-officer, while Olson and two of our best men occupied the room ordinarily
allotted to petty officers. I made Nobs' bed down in Lys' room, for I knew she
would feel less alone.
Nothing of much moment occurred for a while after we left British waters behind
us. We ran steadily along upon the surface, making good time. The first two
boats we sighted made off as fast as they could go; and the third, a huge
freighter, fired on us, forcing us to submerge. It was after this that our troubles
commenced. One of the Diesel engines broke down in the morning, and while we
were working on it, the forward port diving-tank commenced to fill. I was on deck
at the time and noted the gradual list. Guessing at once what was happening, I
leaped for the hatch and slamming it closed above my head, dropped to the
centrale. By this time the craft was going down by the head with a most
unpleasant list to port, and I didn't wait to transmit orders to some one else but
ran as fast as I could for the valve that let the sea into the forward port diving-
tank. It was wide open. To close it and to have the pump started that would
empty it were the work of but a minute; but we had had a close call.
I knew that the valve had never opened itself. Some one had opened it--some one
who was willing to die himself if he might at the same time encompass the death
of all of us.
After that I kept a guard pacing the length of the narrow craft. We worked upon
the engine all that day and night and half the following day. Most of the time we
drifted idly upon the surface, but toward noon we sighted smoke due west, and
having found that only enemies inhabited the world for us, I ordered that the
other engine be started so that we could move out of the path of the oncoming
steamer. The moment the engine started to turn, however, there was a grinding
sound of tortured steel, and when it had been stopped, we found that some one
had placed a cold-chisel in one of the gears.
It was another two days before we were ready to limp along, half repaired. The
night before the repairs were completed, the sentry came to my room and awoke
me. He was rather an intelligent fellow of the English middle class, in whom I
had much confidence.
"Well, Wilson," I asked. "What's the matter now?"
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