“Good. Get some help and get him through the door forward right away, and roll him into a bunk.” He indicated the watertight door through which he had just entered, then swiftly dropped through the open hatch in the deck plates, climbed down the thin steel rungs in the ladder. He was nearly to his knees in water in an incredibly confined space between the two huge engines.
Keith, a large abrasion on the side of his head, sloshed toward him. “Looks like the sea line to this freshwater cooler is ruptured right at the hull valve,” he said. “We’ve got the hull valve shut, but it’s the valve body itself that’s broken. There’s no way of stopping the water coming in unless we can take the sea pressure off.”
“We’re getting the drain pump lined up. How fast is the water coming in? Can we reach the drain pump suction?”
“Pretty fast. It’s up nearly to the lower generator flats, but so far I don’t think any has got into the main generators. Good thing we were able to take the angle off when we speeded up. We’ll get the bilge suction open, but the drain pump won’t be able to handle it. It’s coming in too fast. We’ll have to put a pressure on the compartment.”
“Not a hundred and fifty feet worth. We’ve got to reduce external pressure too. Tell off the engineers you’ll need down here. Send forward everybody not required here or in the compartments aft. You can start pressurizing whenever you’re ready, but let me know first, and come out yourself. A few pounds will be enough, and I’m going to need you back in conn.”
Suddenly it was clear what he had to do. From the look in Keith’s eyes he understood, and agreed. “That last salvo makes sixty-five depth charges he’s dropped on us,” Richardson said quietly. “He probably has at least that many more in his locker, and sonar conditions are phenomenal. He’ll figure to keep us down here either until our battery gives out or he gets one of those blockbusters right on target. It’s time to see if those five-inchers are as good as we think they are!”
There was a hissing of air through hidden pipes. Al Dugan had begun to put air into the aftermost ballast tank to counteract the growing weight of water in the after part of the boat. With a final word to Keith, Richardson started up the ladder. He had reached the upper level of the engineroom, had just motioned to the men watching through the viewing port of the watertight door, when a change in Eel communicated itself to him. Perhaps it was the lessening of the sensation of speed through the water. Perhaps it was a gradual squashing down aft. His sixth sense — a faculty developed by all submarine skippers — told him all. The main motors had stopped!
A telephone handset was nearby for the convenience of the engine throttlemen. He grabbed it. “This is the captain! What’s happened?”
It must be the maneuvering room which answered. “Ordered all stop, sir.” There was lethargy, acceptance, in the voice. To stop the screws meant sinking to the bottom. There could be only one possible result of such a move, and only a single reason could be the cause. Some catastrophe had taken place in the nerve center of the submarine!
“Conn! Are you still on the line?”
“Yessir, Captain.” Quin’s voice. It, too, carried a hidden message. “The commodore ordered all stop, sir.”
“Who ordered?”
“The commodore, sir!”
The watertight door had been undogged. The men were swinging it open. Rich slammed the phone in its place, jackknifed through the door, ran the length of the forward engineroom. Here they had not seen him coming because the door was behind an exhaust trunk and out of the line of sight. Several seconds were needed to get it open. In the crew’s dinette, however, someone had been listening surreptitiously on the phones. The watertight door was already being undogged as Richardson raced for it.
He was panting heavily when he reached the diving station. Al Dugan’s face was working. “As soon as you went aft, the commodore went back up the ladder and had the hatch shut. A minute ago he sent word you had been injured, and he was taking command and putting the ship on the bottom. He’s flipped, sir! You can tell by looking at him” The oval-shaped hatch to the conning tower was closed. Both dogs had been hammered home.
Consternation. A knot in the gut. Neither must be allowed to show. “All right, Al. I’ll take care of this. Is your air manifold still rigged to blow number seven tank?”
“Just through the after group. The forward group blow is as was.”
“Fine. Keep her balanced, and keep her off the bottom. Use safety tank if you have to.” There was grateful relief in Dugan’s acknowledgment. Rich could guess at the quandary he had been in.
“Sargent!” The auxiliaryman responded with alacrity. “Yessir!”
Richardson spoke slowly and distinctly, so that everyone in the control room would hear and understand. “Shift steering and annunciators from the conning tower to the control room!” Sargent jumped to the forward bulkhead, rapidly began to make the shift.
“Al, get a quartermaster out of the damage-repair gang and put him on the steering station. Report when he has steering control.” To the man wearing the telephone headset Rich said, “Inform all stations that I have the conn in the control room.”
“Blow safety!” suddenly called out Dugan. The diving officer raised his right hand, palm open. Lichtmann, appearing from nowhere in Sargent’s place, knocked the air valve open. “Secure!” Dugan clenched his fist. Lichtmann spun the handle shut.
“Steering and annuciators shifted to the control room, Captain!” Sargent was reporting.
“I have steering control, sir. Annunciators too.” The new helmsman was Sodermalm, a lithe young sailor with several patrols under his belt.
“All ahead full!” Richardson still spoke portentously. This was the test, the resolution of the most immediate emergency. Sodermalm clicked over the annunciators.
“Captain says all ahead full from the control room,” he heard the phoneman say into his mouthpiece. The electricians in the maneuvering room must have been waiting for the order, for the answering signals on the two instruments were instant and simultaneous. Richardson could feel Eel responding to the additional power. Grins of approbation from Dugan and the men in the control room.
There was still more to be done. “Conn, control,” he said to the man wearing the phones — it was Livingston, the young seaman who only yesterday had mistaken a bird for a plane—“What is the latest bearing of the enemy?”
Under the steady gaze of his skipper, Livingston was intent on redeeming his spurious warning. He carefully repeated the message, afterward treasured the fleeting smile of gratitude from his superior’s strained, stubbled face when he reported, “Two-three-seven, true, sir.”
The enemy was still dead astern. The total time elapsed since the most recent salvo of depth charges had been less than five minutes. There was still a little breathing space. This would be the moment to relieve some of the tension. If the new helmsman behaved true to form, he might be the means. “Sodermalm, you don’t look big enough to steer the ship in hand power. Get some others to help you, and see if you can ease the course right to zero-five-seven.”
“Ease right to zero-five-seven, aye aye. I can handle this better than those conning tower jockeys anytime. This is no sweat. Just tell me what you want and leave it to me, sir!” Sody, as Rich knew the crew called the irrepressible little Swede, was nothing if not a self-confident sailor. Smiles appeared on several faces. Rich also grinned inwardly, and then decided to let some of it show.
Now for the most difficult problem. Access to the sonar gear and Stafford’s expertise was imperative. The tincan would be getting ready for another run soon. “Livingston, tell conn to open the hatch. I’m coming up.” Control had been wrested from Blunt with ridiculous ease. It was important for morale that it be absolutely clear there had never been a threat to Richardson’s command of the submarine. He swung himself onto the rungs of the ladder. Quin would repeat the instruction from Livingston loudly enough for all in the conning tower to hear. Blunt would realize he had been bested, would give in as gracefully as he could.