The helmrat’s impassive voice was suddenly drowned by a horrible, metallic booming that sounded like someone hitting an enormous bell. It was so loud it completely drowned out all other noise. Then it slowly eased into a host of different booms and squeals, none of them as loud, but all of them very frightening.
‘We can go deeper,’ said Longtayle. He sounded confident, but Arthur saw that the Rat’s tail had gone completely white.
‘One hundred fathoms. One hundred and two fathoms.’
‘Send a bottle message,’ ordered Longtayle suddenly into the voice-pipe. ‘Test depth reached. DW still diving.’
‘Aye, aye,’ came the disembodied response.
‘Doctor Scamandros!’ Arthur turned to the sorcerer. ‘What about communicating with Drowned Wednesday? Is there anything you can do to. . . to, I don’t know. . . cast a light in the sky so she’ll look up at it?’
Scamandros was mopping his forehead with his yellow silk handkerchief. He put this away and started hunting through the numerous inside pockets of his coat. In fact, he seemed to have more pockets than it was possible to have inside a coat.
‘No, no, that won’t do . . . won’t work from down here . . . never quite mastered that one . . . perhaps, no, used that up . . . have to be able to see the target . . .’
‘How about you bung an illusion of a big hunk of roast beef on top,’ suggested Suzy. ‘I reckon she’d go for that.’
‘I can make the illusion,’ said Scamandros peevishly. ‘But I can’t get it outside!’
‘One hundred and six fathoms,’ reported the helmsrat. He turned to look at the Captain and said, without a tremor in his voice, ‘Estimated crush depth is one hundred and ten fathoms.’
Arthur didn’t need to ask what the crush depth was. It was obvious from the horrible booming and screeching sounds coming from all around them. He jumped as a new sound started, and turned to see water spraying up from the floor.
‘One hundred and eight fathoms.’
‘Can Drowned Wednesday hear underwater?’ asked Suzy.
‘Crush depth exceeded,’ reported the helmsrat. ‘One hundred and eleven fathoms. . . and getting deeper.’
As if in answer to his voice, all the lights suddenly went out. Arthur stared into the darkness, expecting any moment to hear the hull completely buckle . . . followed immediately by the cold shock of tons of water and almost instantaneous death. At least it would be quick . . .
Everyone else seemed to be expecting the same thing. They were totally silent for about ten seconds, then Longtayle spoke.
‘Switch to circuit B!’
The helmsrat moved. Through the constant booming and whistling, Arthur heard a switch click and the Rat swear under his breath. Then there was a glimmering of light in the filaments as the bulbs heated up, gradually brightening to cast a strange red glow over the submariners.
‘Depth!’
Once again the passengers held their breath. Surely they couldn’t still be going down, or they would already be crushed.
‘One hundred . . . one hundred and thirteen fathoms! And steady!’
‘What did you say, Suzy?’ asked Arthur.
‘I said, “Can Drowned Wednesday hear underwater?”’
‘I bet she can,’ said Arthur quickly. ‘Whales have sonar! They sing to one another! If we can make a really high-pitched loud noise, then she’ll. . . she’ll know there’s someone stuck in her jaw . . . That’s probably not going to help, is it?’
‘Why not?’ asked Suzy.
‘Well, she might just dive even deeper to get rid of whatever’s making the annoying noise.’
‘One hundred and fourteen fathoms!’ reported the helmsrat. ‘She’s diving again!’
‘It’s not going to make things worse, is it?’
‘Do whatever you can,’ ordered Longtayle. ‘The crush depth is an estimate, but —’ His voice was cut off as several jets of water burst out of the walls at the same time, accompanied by a terrible, deep groan from the hull.
‘Doctor!’ yelled Arthur. ‘Can you make a really long, really high-pitched squeal?’
Scamandros was already unscrewing the parrot head of his walking stick. He nodded as he reached inside the head and made some adjustments.
‘Block your ears!’
Arthur just had time to put his fingers in his ears as the parrot head suddenly shone with a bright light and its beak opened, emitting an incredibly piercing shriek that went on for several seconds, completely cutting through the groans and bellows of the distressed submarine. Scamandros worked the parrot head like it was a puppet, pulling on little levers, and its shriek began to go up and down to a regular rhythm.