Morgan Robertson

“ The captain paid no more attention to him, and Bronson climbed the ladder that led up the mast to the lower top.
It is an axiom in the world's navies that no man may live through an action in a fighting-top, and Bronson, aloft with the dead, could not but have been impressed by the sight of the fall of the lower Russian ship's foremasts, tops, guns, dead men and living, and the small signal-yard to which, even as the mast crashed down, small flags were ascending. But the ship went on, a man now exposed on her forward bridge waving a wigwag back and forth until abreast of the Argyll. ”

“ The captain smiled and bowed. "Yes, known to the world, for we have been at pains to advertise it. It is demoralizing to an enemy to have him feel that at any moment a submarine may creep up unseen and torpedo him. We are now, thanks to your mistake, freed from this strain upon our nerves. How did you make such a mistake?"
"Why," said Bronson, coloring, "I simply took you for the Russian ship. ”

“ And now, though her heavy shells still came toward the big, invulnerable Englishman, it was noticeable that her whole secondary battery of quick-fire and machine guns was directed astern, at something which only Bronson, high in air with a pair of service binoculars, could make out.
"A submarine!" he called. "They're running away from it. Now it has dived."
Gun-fire on the upper ships suddenly ceased, and the Argyll's captain and aides came out of their refuge to see these two, with a furious turmoil of water at their sterns, backing and turning in their lengths. ”

“ She closely resembles you."
"Inferior in armor, armament, and marksmanship," said the captain, dryly. "She went to Weihaiwei yesterday as an English prize."
"But, captain," interposed Mr. Clarkson, in sudden alarm, "are we free from this strain upon the nerves? What is to prevent that boat from coming back and torpedoing us? They have Finnegan. They must know we are English."
"You need not fear," answered Bronson, serenely; "she is helpless, and when the tide has drifted her to three hundred feet depth, she will be crushed in by the pressure." ”

“ Felton. "Finnegan, take that man's place at the wheel and steer after the boat-boom."
"Steer small," said the captain to Finnegan, as he climbed out of the hatch and stood knee-deep on the submerged deck. "It's an air-engine steering-gear. Don't touch anything but the wheel."
The old man, shaky with age and nerves, floundered into the conning-tower and took the wheel—the upper spokes of which were visible to those on the high bridge of the battle-ship—while the boats commander waded forward on the round and unstable platform to where a ring-bolt showed through the water. ”

“ Lieutenant Bronsonsky, in command of the Russian torpedo-boat Volga—plain Jim Bronson back in Indiana."
"Um—humph! Different, of course. What happened to your boat?"
"None of my men understands English. Some one gave full speed to the motor, under which we were running. The diving-rudder was inclined; it balanced her at half-speed, but at full speed made her dive. If they succeeded in closing that hatch in time they may save their lives, but not the boat. Nothing but a wrecking outfit can raise her, even if found." ”

“ But, with every tank full and her engine stopped, she still possessed a reserve buoyancy which would bring her slowly to the surface. She could travel awash four hundred miles; submerged, fifty. In this radius of action she could expend her five Whitehead torpedoes, and return to port again and again for more. ”