And yet the auxiliary cruiser did appear to be taking an unwelcome interest in us. She came closer, took a good look at our starboard side, and crossed our stern once or twice. Then she lay to port of us with her engines stopped, but without making any signal. The gun crews meanwhile had disappeared.
It looked as though they intended to respect our 'neutrality,' and no wonder if it was a question of looks. As I kept quietly steaming ahead, the distance between us gradually increased. On the English ship all eyes were fixed on us as though we had been some kind of strange animal. Then we heard her engine-room telegraph bell, and a second time she came speeding towards us. This time she came up close on our port side and ... shot past and went foaming off to the eastward.
'That puts the lid on it,' muttered Düsselmann. 'Captain, let's make all speed for Tralee, and steam right in with colours flying. If they don't have a triumphal archway ready to welcome us, they're not the men I take them for.'
Certainly, anything seemed to be possible to these English.
If only, I thought to myself, there isn't something behind it. The business began to look queer.
Why did the English never ask us, as they were in duty bound to do, where we were from and where we were bound for? Why did they snuff round us on all sides as one dog does to another? Did they want to lull us into a false security? And yet, so far as I could see, a betrayal of our enterprise was absolutely out of the question.[10] I believed then, and have since confirmed my impression that they let us pass in all innocence. And that was a brilliant feat even for Englishmen.
FOOTNOTE:
[10] So far as an actual betrayal is concerned, the author is probably right; but it appears from the evidence published in the Times of the 25th of May, 1918, that some of Count Bernstorff's messages dealing with the preparations for this expedition had been intercepted.