WITH MEN WHO DO THINGS
BY A. RUSSELL BOND
Author of “The Scientific American Boy” and “Handyman’s Workshop and Laboratory”
Chapter XII
TWENTY MILES UNDER THE SEA
We had gone over to the Brooklyn navy-yard, and there, at the bottom of a great big dry-dock, was a saucy little submarine.
We walked around to the gang-plank that ran across to the boat from about half-way down the stepped side of the dry-dock.
“Now, if that is n’t tough!” I exclaimed. “The most interesting thing in the whole navy-yard, and they have hang a ‘No Visitors’ sign on it.”
A happy thought struck me. “Suppose I ask Cousin Jack to try to get us a pass to go aboard one, He is a lientenant-commander in the Navy, you know.”
My request to Cousin Jack went off by the very next mail. Two weeks later, when we had almost forgotten the event, I received a letter with an official seal in the corner.
“Hurray!” I shouted, slapping Will on the back. “It ’s from the Bureau of Navigation of the United States Navy, and signed by the chief of the bureau himself. He says that we may go aboard a submarine, and, what ’s more, we can take a trip in one during manœuvers now being carried on off Provincetown.”
That very night, we took a Fall River boat, and the next afternoon arrived at Provincetown, Armed with our permit, we took a steam-launch to the old monitor that was acting as “mother” for the fleet of submarines. The officer of the deck introduced us to the ensign who commanded one of the submarines, and he, in turn, sent for Mr. McDermott, the chief gunner’s mate, and put us in his charge. The submarine was moored alongside the monitor, so he led us over the gang-plank to the narrow deck that emerged from the water. It was only five feet wide, and about sixty feet long. A steel rope ran around it and served as a hand-rail. An elliptical tower rose from the deck amidships, and from the top of this projected a hood, or conning-tower, protected with heavy plate-glass windows, for observation when the craft was running awash. There was a miniature navigator’s bridge for use when sailing on the surface, and in front of this were two tubes that reached to a height of over twenty feet from the deck.
“Those are the eyes of the submarine,” said our pilot. “A submarine does not wear its eyes in sockets, as we do, but on the ends of a pair of stalks, like snails or crabs,”
Of course that excited our curiosity, and we fired a broadside of questions at him. “Come down below,” was his response, “and you can see for yourselves how the eyes work,”
We crawled through a manhole in the deck and down a ladder, while I wondered if there were fire exits anywhere. That hole in the roof would make an awfully tight jam in case of trouble.
I had always imagined that the submarine was divided into separate cabins by compartments or bulkheads, and that it had an upper and lower deck; but there were no bulkheads in this boat. Mr. McDermott explained that some of the larger boats had bulkheads, but the idea of two decks was manifestly absurd in a vessel whose extreme diameter was only about twelve feet. After taking out the space occupied by the water-ballast tanks and compressed-air reservoirs, there remained a very cramped interior. I had no idea the boat was so small. We could not walk erect without hitting our heads against valve wheels, brackets, rods, and other projections depending from the roof. The crew habitually walked with heads ducked to avoid obstructions. We could see from end to end of the boat, as there were no partitions of any sort. It was marvelous how every nook and cranny was utilized to the fullest advantage. Although there were no partitions, the boat was evidently divided off by imaginary lines into different quarters. Just forward of the main hatchway was plainly the galley, for the walls were hung with brightly polished cooking utensils. Forward of the galley was a table in what proved to be the captain’s quarters, while at the extreme forward end of the boat, where the torpedoes
were launched, there was a complicated assemblage of wheels, dials, levers, instruments, etc., that fairly dazzled one with their high polish. Aft were the gasolene engines and dynamos, and under the floor were the storage batteries. Projecting from the ceiling just forward of the hatchway were the periscopes, or, as our guide called them, the “eyes” of the boat. A system of lenses and prisms made it possible, by looking into the eyepieces here, to see out of the top of the tubes twenty-five feet above. The periscope could be turned around to bring any point of the com-