Von Preugfeld eyed him like a cat about to pounce on a mouse. He was furiously angry, and wanted to vent his wrath upon some one who could not retaliate. The cause of his fury had nothing to do with Kaspar Krauss's delinquency. He had just been referring to the English Encyclopaedia to discover the meaning of the epithet "old bean," and to his almost speechless indignation he found that one of his Royal Air Force prisoners had likened him to "the seed of certain leguminous plants, universally cultivated for food"—and old at that.
"You were fifteen seconds slow in carrying out my order to blow the auxiliary ballasttank, you wooden-faced pig!" exclaimed von Preugfeld. "For the remainder of the voyage you will work double tricks and keep for'ard look-out on deck whenever we are running on the surface. Now go!"
Kaspar Krauss, outwardly pale but inwardly fuming, saluted with a faint suspicion of reluctance, and began to make his way aft until the guttural voice of his kapitan called him back.
"Is that the way you salute me, schweinhund?" demanded von Preugfeld. "If I find any more signs of slackness on your part, look out. That's all. Now, again: dismiss!"
Von Preugfeld watched the fellow out of sight and then turned to his subordinate.
"There's nothing like being firm with these brutes, von Loringhoven," he said in a loud voice, as if to impress the fact upon the three seamen. "Take my advice: come down on them like Thor's hammer the moment you see them giving signs of discontent. How many men have been placed in the report this trip?"
"Eleven, Herr Kapitan," replied the unter-leutnant, smacking his lips with relish. "A third of the ship's company."
"That shows good discipline, Eitel," rejoined von Preugfeld. "Cast-iron discipline—that's the secret of efficiency."
He made his way to the conning-tower and spent some moments poring over a chart of the centre portion of the North Sea. There were mine-fields in profusion. Those laid by the British were shown in blue, those of German origin were indicated in red. On paper they looked formidable, but unfortunately for von Preugfeld there were hundreds of others either drifting or else uncharted. He, too, cursed the wireless order that was responsible for U 274 making for Ostend.
Having checked the course and given further instructions to the quartermaster, von Preugfeld strolled aft, took a leisurely survey of the horizon and, finding nothing in the shape of a vessel, settled himself once more in his deck-chair.