“Now, we’ll soon strike,” I called down to the “Centrale” and looked at the manometer.
Hardly had the words left my lips when we felt a very gentle shock—much weaker than when a train stops—and knew we were at the bottom. Some more water was pumped into the ballast tanks in order to make the boat steadier and then each one at his post carefully examined scuttles and hatchways so that not a drop of water could leak through to us. From bow to stern it was reported:
“All is tight!”
Thereafter orders were given for the necessary guards, and then I let the crew leave their posts:
“All hands to be free to-night!”
Until to-morrow on the bottom of the ocean! No other restfulness can be compared with it. Rest after so much excitement which has stirred the emotions of us all; after such a day’s work, is it possible that any one can appreciate how we enjoyed ourselves?
We did not care that we were not in port and that a mountain of ocean was over our heads. We felt as secure as if we had been at the safest spot in the world. From their posts the crew went past us, with pale, oily, and dirty faces, but with their eyes looking at me as they went by, proud, happy, radiant, so that my heart rejoiced.
There was some excitement among the crew. Every one washed, talked and laughed so that it was evident how happy and care-free they felt.
“Well, with what will you treat us to-day?” I asked the cook who, with great self-confidence—because he was an expert in his line—was standing before his little galley and stirring a steaming pot. “That smells wonderfully appetizing.”
“Ox goulash and salt potatoes,” answered the cook and with more eagerness stirred his pot. “It soon will be ready. It’ll not take more than five minutes.”