evidently thrown the dynamo out of gear. Then he remembered the little
electric torch which he always carried, and in an instant had it out of
his pocket, and switched it on.

He flashed the little beam across the floor, and its light fell upon the
wooden grating over which he had stumbled in his first rush at the enemy
signaller. This lay alongside the bath. It was about six feet long and
made of four heavy slats nailed on a framework.

It took Ken just about five seconds to lay down his lamp and heave up the
grating.

Short as the time had been since the first shock of the torpedo, the ship
was already beginning to list heavily. The floor of the bathroom now
sloped upwards steeply to the door.

The grating was very heavy, but in his excitement Ken swung it up as
though it had been no more than a feather. Balancing it, he charged
straight at the door.

The end of the grating struck the woodwork with a loud crash, but the
result was not what Ken had hoped. Hinges and lock remained firm. One
panel, however, was cracked and splintered.

He retreated again to make another attempt. But the list was growing
heavier every moment. It was all he could do to keep his feet. Ugly,
sucking noises down below told him that the water was rushing in torrents
into the hold of the doomed ship.

There was no question of making a second charge. Balancing himself as best