throw the helm hard to port.

We were within fifty feet of them when they awakened to the
intentional menace of our maneuver. Their gun crew was off its
guard; but they sprang to their piece now and sent a futile shell
above our heads. Nobs leaped about and barked furiously. "Let 'em
have it!" commanded the tug-captain, and instantly revolvers and
rifles poured bullets upon the deck of the submersible. Two of
the gun-crew went down; the other trained their piece at the
water-line of the oncoming tug. The balance of those on deck
replied to our small-arms fire, directing their efforts toward
the man at our wheel.

I hastily pushed the girl down the companionway leading to the
engine-room, and then I raised my pistol and fired my first shot
at a boche. What happened in the next few seconds happened so
quickly that details are rather blurred in my memory. I saw the
helmsman lunge forward upon the wheel, pulling the helm around so
that the tug sheered off quickly from her course, and I recall
realizing that all our efforts were to be in vain, because of all
the men aboard, Fate had decreed that this one should fall first
to an enemy bullet. I saw the depleted gun-crew on the submarine
fire their piece and I felt the shock of impact and heard the
loud explosion as the shell struck and exploded in our bows.

I saw and realized these things even as I was leaping into the
pilot-house and grasping the wheel, standing astride the dead
body of the helmsman. With all my strength I threw the helm
to starboard; but it was too late to effect the purpose of
our skipper. The best I did was to scrape alongside the sub.