Towards nine o'clock there set in, unfortunately, a marked change of weather. A light wind from the west gradually dispersed the fog, so that it soon became quite clear, with good visibility.

The moon had already risen, but considerately remained hidden behind a cloud, so that the silhouette of our ship was not very distinct.

Towards midnight, we reckoned, we should be abreast of Lindesnaes. Here we expected to find the coast most closely watched by the English, since all traffic, whether from north, east, or west, must pass this south-western corner of Norway. In order not to arouse unnecessary suspicion, I ordered the mast-head light and side-lights to be lighted. But before doing so, I had the lenses rubbed over with lampblack, so that the lights could scarcely have been visible a few ship's lengths away.

We could thus, at any rate, say that we had our lamps burning, and throw the blame of their condition upon the lamp-trimmer. In the rest of the ship all lights were carefully screened.

Hour after hour of anxious waiting went by—another half-hour, another quarter, and we shall have Lindesnaes right abeam. Shall we get through unobserved?

We were spared the trouble of answering that question. Suddenly there was a flash to northward, and directly over the horizon there appeared one after another, one, two, three, four searchlights, making criss-cross patterns with their beams. Time after time they grazed us. When one of them suddenly rested a moment on us, we thought we were seen, but no; for a few seconds later it released us again and illuminated the water astern of us. Then another came sweeping round, and yet another. This merry game went on for perhaps five minutes, but that brief span seemed to us like an eternity, for every moment we expected a shot across our bows as a gentle hint to us to stop. But nothing happened.

It was only when the beams began to concentrate on a spot some distance to the east of us, and then climbed up into the heavens that we breathed freely once more.

After that I extinguished my lights again, and steered north-west for the open sea.

From that time forward, a point which I always took into consideration in laying my courses was that I should always be at least a day's steaming distant from the famous Kirkwall Harbour, to which the English sent in all suspicious ships. I counted that if we should be caught and a prize crew put on board of us, within the twenty-four hours we could find ways and means of dealing with our uninvited guests, and recapturing our ship.