Air Stories — page 91: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

LINE-SHOOTER lieutenant. ‘*Can’t,’’ replied Sinbad. ‘‘I must go down and decode this signal. Shan’t be-long.’’ ‘‘Are you going down into your sub. ? ’’ Symes enquired eagerly. ‘‘ Why, yes,’’ said the Reserve man as he pushed his way to the door. Symes saw his opportunity. ‘*Can I come with you? ”’ he asked, ° shouting to make himself heard above the din of a piano which had just started up. ‘* Yes, if you like,’’ replied the lieu- tenant, ‘‘ but it’s a rotten night outside.’’ ‘*Q.K.,’’ cried Symes, and, stepping out into the alleyway, he followed the Reserve man. Down an iron ladder with a clattering iron chain handrail and through a sea- men’s mess-deck, they passed to a bulk- head door. An icy blast of wind struck them as they found themselves at the top of a gangway which led through the ship’s side, down to the submarines. ‘‘Careful here,’’ warned Sinbad, as he led the'way. ‘‘ My boat’s the second over.’’ | Symes gripped the taut lifeline, and made his way slowly down the gang- plank. The cold air made him shiver slightly, and he saw that there were four submarines in this trot. They had to enter Sinbad’s submarine through the conning-tower, as the torpedo hatch was closed. Everything was spick- and-span, but there was no burnished brass here. The hatch through which they now descended looked like a manhole leading to a sewer. Down they went, lower and lower—much farther than Symes had expected. Then suddenly his eyes were dazzled by brilliant lights and a mass of highly polished machinery. Symes felt much as an ant must feel in the bowels of Big Ben. ‘* The control room,’’ explained Sinbad. ‘‘This portion is the wardroom and chartroom. The skipper has the bunk, and I sling a hammock here.’’ Symes was flabbergasted, he had ex- pected to find far more space and greater comfort than this. His companion brought out his keys and opened a safe. He slapped two heavy code-books on the table and began to scan a few pages. ‘‘Nothing important in the signal,’’ he announced. ‘‘ Just routine correc- tions to charts. It’ll keep till to-morrow.’’ He put the whole lot back in the safe and slammed the door. ye HAT’S your biggest danger ? ’’ Symes asked, anxious to hear and learn something about his job. Sinbad thought for a moment. chose his words carefully. ‘<Well,’’ he replied, at length, ‘‘ to be truthful, depth-charges and aeroplanes.’’ ‘‘ Aeroplanes P ’’ repeated Symes with surprise. ‘‘ Why, I’ve been hunting submarines for three months and haven’t seen one.’’ ‘“No, but I’ll bet they’ve seen you through the skyscraper periscope,’’ Sinbad told him, smiling. Symes was interested, but puzzled. ‘‘T don’t understand,’’ he admitted. ‘‘TIf they see me, why can’t I see them ? ”’ Sinbad smiled, jerked out a sliding table, and produced pencil, chart, and dividers from a drawer. ‘‘Now,’’ he began tapping his pencil on the chart. ‘‘ A submarine can, when she is in good trim, dive at the rate of about a foot in two seconds, and it’s twenty-five feet from the conning-tower to the water-line. In other words, she can get under pretty quick. But once under the water, her maximum speed is only about three knots. Of course, she can really do more than that, but if she does the battery runs down at such a speed that she could not keep it up for more than two hours. And then it would take about ten hours to re-charge.’’ ‘* Re-charge ? ’’ enquired Symes. ‘*'Yes. We can only re-charge when on the surface with the oil engines running. On the other hand, we can knock up about fourteen knots on the surface.”’ ‘I’m beginning to understand,’’ said Symes, pleased with Sinbad’s enlightening explanation. ‘‘ Actually,’’ he commented, ‘‘the aeroplane really keeps the sub- marine under—in fact, more or less pinned to one spot.’’ He 183 CO DOO) (©