No one was near, however, to notice it. We sighted one steamer only, whose smoke appeared towards evening on the horizon, and we were easily able to steer clear of her.
The spirits of the crew were excellent, as was shown by the merry warbling of the gramophone from the men's room.
In our mess-room, likewise, we enlivened the time with classical music, without which life on a U-Boat would not bear thinking of. Moreover, the monotonous part of our journey was now to begin. The fine weather continued, and we met with few encounters.
I find in my journal only the following notes: "The dull period of our journey is commencing. The boat is making her way, rolling slightly, but bearing herself bravely. Now and then we go out of our way to avoid a steamer. For several days there is nothing to be seen; the gramophones play gaily, and everyone is in the best of humours. On the open sea we are entirely dependent on the weather for our comfort."
It was, as a matter of fact, the first moment that we had been able to breathe freely. Looking round on all sides one became almost incorporated with the everlasting sameness of the sea.
One day I was standing on the fore-deck. Near me Humke, our giant boatswain, squatted in the wooden scaffolding of the small central upper-deck under which we had snugly stored our lifeboat. Several lashings had been loosened during the stormy weather, and had to be repaired.
I had stood there for some time, gazing westward, my thoughts fixed on America, our destination.
Suddenly I took it into my head to broach the subject to the sturdy Humke. I asked him what he thought of our voyage to America in these days of war. What were his impressions as to the object of our enterprise?
The rascal grinned broadly and replied:
"Why, to earn money, of course."