Owing to the heavy seas all the hatches are of necessity closed; even the conning-tower hatch can only be opened occasionally. Two great ventilation machines are working unceasingly, it is true. But the fresh air that they draw from the ventilation shaft, which is carefully protected from the breakers, is immediately swallowed up by the greedy Diesel engines. These hungry, ungrateful monsters only give off heat in return, heavy overbearing heat impregnated with horrible oil vapour, which is then swept by the ventilators throughout all the other compartments. Such ventilation can no longer be of a refreshing nature.
The air in the boat on this account has become overwhelmingly laden with moisture. It is almost an impossibility to breathe, and one awaits with resignation, or desperate gaiety, the moment when one really will be forced to join the fishes. In the closed-up body of the ship every object is covered in steaming water which again evaporates in the heat, till everything is soaked through and streaming. All the drawers and cupboard doors swell and stick fast, and added to this the wet clothes from the watchers in the conning-tower are spread out over the whole boat.
It is impossible to give any idea of the state of the temperature that then reigned in the boat. In the Gulf Stream the outside temperature was 82 degrees Fahrenheit, so extraordinarily warm was the water around us. Fresh air no longer penetrated, and in the engine-room the two six-cylinder combustion engines hammered on in ceaseless rhythm.... A choking cloud of heat and oil vapour issued from the engines and spread through every part of the boat.
The temperature rose gradually in these days to 127 degrees Fahrenheit.
And in such an inferno men lived and worked. Groaning, the naked off-duty watch rolled about in their cabins. Sleep was out of the question. When one of them was just dropping off into a heavy stupor he would be awakened to fresh misery by the perspiration running in drops from his forehead into his eyes.
It was almost a relief when the eight hours' rest was over and the watchmen were called once more into the control-room or the engine-room.
Then the martyrdom recommenced. Clad only in shirt and trousers the men stood at their posts, a cloth wrapped round their foreheads to keep the perspiration out of their eyes. The blood glowed and rushed in their temples—fever was in their veins. It was only by the greatest strength of will that they were able to force their streaming bodies to perform their allotted duties, and to keep going during the four hours' watch.
But how long could this state of things be expected to last?
During these days I kept no journal, and can only find the following note: "If the temperature rises any higher the men in the engine-room will not be able to stand it any longer."
They did stand it, however,—they kept going like heroes, doing their work in spite of exhaustion, till at last the storm centre lay behind us, the weather cleared up, the sun broke through the clouds, and the dropping of the sea made it possible to open the hatches once more.