I spring out, balancing myself round the corner in the control-room, over the ladders, up through the conning-tower hatch, on to the platform.
Eyring shows me at no great distance ahead a white light. It appears to be approaching. We decide not to let it come any nearer, and give the alarm to submerge. Then for the first time I realise the wonderful sense of security that the possibility of such a rapid submersion gives.
It is all quite a matter of course. Here we travel in the middle of this world-war, with an unarmed freight vessel through darkest night. A light approaches. It may be an enemy, it probably is. In a few minutes a couple of shots may flash out, several shells shatter our conning-tower, the water stream into the ship's body, and in a short while the North Sea close over us.
None of this occurs however. A brief command in the control-room, a few grips of the valves and hand wheels, and we continue our way unhurt, for brutal power may shut us from the surface of the seas, but our enemies in their impotence only cause us to lie a few fathoms deeper. We continue submerged for the sake of safety until daybreak. Towards four o'clock we rise to the surface. It is already broad daylight, but unfortunately also there is a very troubled sea. In the distance we see a couple of fishing-boats laboriously going about their business. We keep them at first sharply under inspection, but quickly discover their harmless character and continue our way over the water.
This process has long ceased to be of a pleasant character. The movements of the boat are such that existence down below in the closed-up compartments, aired only by the ventilator machines, is causing headache and sickness among the men; part of the crew are losing their appetites. Yet it is quite out of the question to remain on deck, which is continuously swept by the seas.
It is somewhat drier on the conning-tower behind the shelter of the "bath-tank" and on the lee side of the tower, which is sheltered from the sea and wind.
Here a few of the watch off duty are huddled together, holding fast to the rails, inhaling the fresh air and shaking themselves when a particularly heavy breaker rolls up round the conning-tower covering them in salt spray.
Thus we travel on the whole day.
A couple of steamers, whose smoke-clouds appear in the distance, we avoid above water by altering our course, after we have made out their route by careful sounding and observation.
This sounds more difficult than it really is. You first of all make sure of the position of your own ship by soundings and calculations, after you have roughly estimated the position of the unknown vessel on the map. If the relative positions of these two are compared on the map with the most important steamer routes, it is possible to judge with some certainty the course the unknown ship must take.