The men to serve the machine-guns ought to be standing ready on the quay. I made sure once more that the explosives and incendiary bombs were ready, and the German naval ensign was at hand. To make assurance doubly sure, I had two additional masses of explosive placed in the forward part of the ship, so that, if need be, nothing of my ship should be left.
I then ordered, 'Hands wash and clean into No. 2's,' that is, to clean up, and put on uniform. Only our caps, which for the moment we could not put on, we hid where we could get at them easily. Over our uniform we pulled on our old Norwegian kit. Each man wore a dirk and pistol in his belt under his jacket.
Shortly after one o'clock the first signs of land appeared; long, low-lying, bluish cloud-banks on the horizon, which little by little assumed a definite form—the Irish coast!
There was not a ship in sight. I called up my men and gave them the last explanations. Hitherto they had known nothing definite, though, of course, they had long guessed that they were not bound for Libau. It was good to see their grim but well-pleased smiles when I told them that now it was up to us to make good, and every man must do his best.
I told them that even their uniforms might not save them from being shot if caught. They grinned knowingly, as much as to say, they've got to catch us first!
Splendid fellows! I knew that I could trust them.
I explained my plans to the last detail. Every man had his allotted task. The engineers, for instance, were told that they must be ready to pump out the water-tanks to lighten the ship and enable her to get up the shallow channel leading to Fenit.
As the last touch, the surgical dressings were served out, and the big medicine chest, with all necessary materials, was placed in the mess-room, and then I gave the order, 'Every man to his post.'