In order to further encourage the men in the stokehold I called down to them from time to time through the voice-pipe the distance between us. They worked like horses, and after some time I was able to state that we were keeping our lead. Why the English boat did not at least send a shot across our bows is still a mystery to me, especially when she found that we took no notice whatever of her constant signals.
In the meantime we had approached our old friend the Shatter, which was leisurely wallowing up and down just under the battery at about 500 yards from the shore. She seemed to have noticed us at last, for she turned slowly and steamed towards us. I therefore called the second mate up on the bridge, telling him to keep his eye on the Shatter, and gave the wheel to A.B. Strehlau.
We had gradually come so near that without the glasses we could now perceive the guns of the battery trained on us. A lively exchange of signals was taking place between the battery and our pursuer. And then a signal was hoisted on the Shatter also. Unfortunately, it was impossible to read it for there was not a breath of wind. The devil! Had the rascal been deceiving us, and was the drunkenness all playacting, in order to be able to attack us in front in conjunction with the battery, while the other boat attacked us behind?
For one moment I was inclined to fear some such stratagem, for it appeared impossible that the Shatter's signal could mean anything but 'Stop at once.' As a precautionary measure I therefore ordered all preparations for blowing up the ship. At the same time I gave the order to starboard the helm, in order to ram the Shatter, for I was determined that if we went down we should take her with us. The next few seconds must decide our fate. We were going straight for the Shatter at full speed, but she made no effort to escape being rammed. What could be the explanation? I gazed steadily through the glasses. Suddenly the Shatter turned to port, and as she heeled over for an instant on account of the sudden turn, we read the signal. We could not believe our eyes. From the signal halliards of the Shatter fluttered the signal I knew so well in the old days, 'T.D.L.'—'Bon voyage.'
I rushed to the helm, tore the wheel round to port, and anxiously counted the seconds till the Aud began to answer the helm. Fortunately, the high speed at which we were going made the rudder effective—but only just in time. All our lives hung on the fraction of a second. In the very next second we shot past the English boat not a ship's length off.
All this, of course, happened in much less time than it takes to tell it. But the greatest surprise of all was still reserved for us. The brave captain was standing on his little bridge holding on like grim death to the rail. His crew stood, or rather lurched, about on the deck. At the moment when we ran past him at full speed he tore his hat off, waved it round his head, yelling like a Red Indian, and called for 'Three Cheers for the Aud,' to which his crew bawled an enthusiastic response.
If at this moment I had had a couple of bottles of whisky by me on the bridge I would have willingly thrown them to the crew of the Shatter out of gratitude for this ovation; for there can be no doubt that the conduct of the Shatter crew at the very least made the battery officer uncertain of his ground. (I heard later that the battery, in response to a signal from our pursuer, was just about to fire at us while we were standing away from it, but did not do so because the cheers of the Shatter crew seemed to indicate that we had been the victims of some mistake.) Of course, we answered the greeting of the Shatter with cap-waving and a friendly 'Good-bye!' Düsselmann, in fact, ran up the signal, 'X.O.R.'—Thank you. To cap it all, I dipped my flag, as we left the most friendly Englishman I have ever met on the seas. None of us, I am certain, will ever forget this moment.
It was not till afterwards that I heard from the crew that our lives hung once more in the balance. One of the crew had mistaken my order to dip the flag and was under the impression that I had said 'Tyske,' which was our pre-arranged signal for blowing up the ship. He was just about to break out the German naval ensign at the stern, and the chief engineer stood ready with the fuse, when the mistake was realised. So this little entr'acte went off all right—at any rate so far as we were concerned. Not for the captain of the Shatter, however; for I heard some months later that the English Admiralty considered his conduct too 'gentlemanlike' and deprived him of his commission after a court-martial had sentenced him to imprisonment.
The battery now lay a good mile astern, but we were still within range of its guns and our pursuer was close on our heels. We therefore had to make every effort to increase the distance, which was, of course, largely a question of correct steering. So the first mate took over the wheel, while the second mate worked the engine-room telegraph. Down below my brave stokers, half naked and with sweat literally pouring down, toiled at the glowing furnaces, while the others untiringly fetched baskets of coal from the bunkers. The engineers stood at their stations in the engine-room, ready each moment to carry out the orders as they came from the bridge. We were steaming with every ounce of pressure we could get.