Meanwhile 'tween decks discontent was seething. The men, disheartened and hungry, were aghast at the idea of making for the Belgian coast. Many of them were undergoing punishment for various slight offences. Krauss, one of the more advanced agitators, was holding forth upon the purposeless brutality of the kapitan.
Just then von Loringhoven made his way for'ard. Possibly by accident, one of the group of malcontents lurched against him, for the submarine was rolling in the sullen swell.
"Pardon, Herr Offizier!" exclaimed the man. It was Furst, slow of action yet quick to take offence.
The next instant von Loringhoven raised his clenched fist and struck the man heavily in the face. It was the unter-leutnant's idea of imparting discipline with an iron hand according to the advice given by Kapitan von Preugfeld.
Von Loringhoven had struck his men before. He had seen them stand rigidly at attention, meekly bearing blows as becomes a military or naval subject of the Kaiser. He expected Furst to do likewise, but to his unbounded astonishment the German bluejacket planted a staggering blow right in the centre of the unter-leutnant's chest.
Von Loringhoven reeled and fell heavily against a large air-flask. There he lay breathless and unable to utter a sound.
For a few moments the men were dumfounded. Oft-times they had formed mental pictures of striking their officers to the deck. Now the idea had become a reality.
"You'll be shot for this, Hans Furst," exclaimed one of the men.
"Perhaps," replied Furst. "And all of you with me. I struck the pig, I admit, but you were standing by and did not stop me. So that's mutiny."
"Yes; that is so," agreed Krauss. "We've started, so why not carry it through? I owe the kapitan a debt which I mean to pay. Furst will help. Who joins?"