Soon all are on the outer hull of the sub and quickly escorted to the rear hatch by a search and rescue swimmer, who is secured to the sub by a leash. Down the hatch the riders go, followed by the SAR swimmer, a few other submariners and finally the Chief of the Boat, who quickly secures the hatch behind him, but not before a few gallons of saltwater from a passing wave sneak in. More than idle bureaucratic rhetoric, they are characteristics that ring true - and within minutes of stepping on board, these traits start to make themselves known. Water that came inside is quietly blotted dry by towel-wielding junior submariners. They work quickly, quietly and diligently, almost like soldiers fighting an invading foe.
Every drop is wiped up.
Then the surfaces are wiped again. Then again and again. These aren't overzealous crew members trying to do good. This is the norm. What seems to be overly methodical work to the landsman is a telling clue to the personality that makes up a submarine crew.