Read Down The Hatch for Free Online Page B

asked the same question by another schoolboy.
    “What would you do,” the questioner’s voice was charged with drama, “if the submarine began to hurtle towards the bottom of the sea completely out of control?”
    “Face aft and salute, lad,” said Leading Seaman Miles easily.
    Just aft of the control room, Leading Seaman Gorbles was explaining a delicate point to two schoolmasters.
    “These are heads. What you call lavatories. There’s one for the officers, one for the petty officers and one for the sailors. That’s democracy.”
    One of the schoolmasters had a dim memory connected with submarine toilets.
    “Are they easy to work?”
    “Dead easy. You just flush ’em. In the old days it was a bit tricky, you had to blow ’em over the side. You had to ring up the control room and ask the awficer of the watch before you did it. We used to get fed up with that rigmarole after a bit so we used to ring up and say: ‘Shit?’ and they said: ‘Shoot! ’ “
    In the fore ends, the Midshipman was explaining the escape system to Miss Elizabeth Warbeck, her niece Miss Sarah Warbeck, and the ten daughters of gentlewomen in reduced circumstances. Miss Elizabeth Warbeck was a tiny but staunch lady, with the perky air of a gamecock. Her eyes were sharp and interested in all she saw, her cheeks were rosy and her silver hair was drawn into a bun. The ten daughters of gentlewomen in reduced circumstances were uniformly dressed in grey tunics and berets.
    But the Midshipman was chiefly interested in Miss Sarah Warbeck. He had first seen her, or rather a part of her, when she came down the fore hatch. The Midshipman had then discovered one of the least-publicised advantages of a submariner’s life. No matter how tight her skirt nor how circumspectly she lowered herself, a girl descending through the fore hatch of a submarine was forced to display her legs.
    The Midshipman had tactfully averted his eyes but could not prevent himself seeing enough of Miss Warbeck to whet his interest.
    “This is an escape hatch,” he said. “This is where you see John Mills and Co looking terribly brave on the movies. You let this trunking down and flood up the compartment until the pressure inside is equal to the sea pressure outside. Then you can open the hatch and duck under the trunking and go on up to the surface.”
    The Midshipman paused and glanced quickly at his audience to see how they were taking it. He was gratified by Miss Sarah Warbeck’s solemn expression.
    “Of course in wartime,” he went on, “all this would be removed to save weight and the hatches would be secured from the outside with clips.”
    “But that’s not fair! “ said Sarah Warbeck indignantly.
    The Midshipman gave a sad shrug, as though to say, That’s the way the ball bounces.
    “They have to be secured otherwise depth charges might blow them open. And anyway there wouldn’t be anyone there to pick you up even if you did escape.”
    “I think that’s a swindle!” said Sarah Warbeck hotly.
    The Midshipman gave another shrug, as though to say, Ah well, that’s the way the cookie crumbles.
    “Shall we look at the rest of the submarine?”
    On their way they passed Gavin and a party of prefects from a girls’ grammar school. The prefects were fully-developed wenches, under their school tunics. Gavin was having difficulty in keeping them to the point.
    “This is the Petty Officers’ Mess,” he announced.
    “Is this where you live?”
    “No, I live in the wardroom. The Coxswain lives here, and the Chief Stoker and. . . .”
    “Ooooh, do look at the beds, darling. . . .”
    “ Bunks , Maureen darling. . .
    “Not very big, are they?”
    “Not big enough for two, darling . . . .”
    “. . . And the Stoker Petty Officer and the Second Coxswain. . .
    “It’s a good job you’re all men! “
    “Do you ever get kleptomania?”
    “ Claustrophobia , darling.”
    “Barbara, you coarse thing!”
    “. . . And the Electrical Artificer and the Radio