“Try the wheel now,” I told Hayes.

He stepped forward, grabbing the heavy steel spokes with both hands.

He grunted, his muscles straining against the rusted mechanism.

Slowly, the wheel began to turn, scraping loudly against the salt-crusted housing.

A blast of cold, pressurized air escaped from the seal, smelling of rust and damp oil.

The hatch popped open an inch.

From the dark opening below, I heard the sound of screaming.

It was muffled, coming from deep within the submarine’s forward compartments.

“Help us!” a voice cried out, the sound distorted by the metal pipes.

“We’re taking on water in the lower flats!”

Hayes threw his weight against the hatch, flinging it wide open.

A dark stairwell descended into the blackness of the submarine’s interior.

Water was sloshing at the bottom of the ladder, reflecting the beam of Hayes’s flashlight.

“Let’s go,” Hayes said, lowering himself into the hatchway.

I followed him down, the cold steel of the ladder rungs biting into my bare hands.

As my feet cleared the hatch, a loud alarm began to wail from the pier outside.