"What did you shoot at?"
He must have realized, though, the seriousness of his position, for he forestalled a second shell by signalling with the siren that he had stopped. The boat's name now became apparent. She was English, and, as we had rightly surmised, the Westburn, a comparatively old boat of three thousand three hundred tons, with a cargo of coal and a speed of only seven knots.
That Sunday our hopes were destined to be fulfilled a second time. While the crew of the Westburn was being transferred to the Moewe, a white light showed on the horizon. We swiftly got ready, and, adapting ourselves to the course of the Westburn—which was in tow—we steamed towards the new-comer.
At six o'clock in the morning we ran alongside of her. She proved to be the steamer Horace, three thousand three hundred and thirty-five tons, with a particularly rich cargo of spirits, grain, wool, meat, and antimony—all things that Germany is in great need of. Yet it was out of the question even to attempt to send this prize home, as she was deficient in coal. There was nothing for it but to sink her and all she contained.
XI—STORY OF THE EXPLOSION ON THE "WESTBURN"
We had now so many mouths on board to feed that it was imperative to get rid of them. The Westburn was requisitioned for this purpose, and all our guests, with the exception of those whom we considered prisoners of war, left the Moewe. There were some hundred and fifty in all, and they were anything but comfortable in the old boat during their enforced voyage to Teneriffe, where the prize-commander—the officers' orderly, Badewitz—was instructed to conduct them. The prize-crew consisted this time of only eight men. On this occasion, too, I summoned the captains of the six captured ships and impressed upon them that, at the slightest sign of insubordination, or attempt at mutiny, Commander Badewitz had my orders to blow up the ship.
Later, I learned from the papers, that the Westburn arrived in broad daylight at Santa Cruz, in Teneriffe. A few hours earlier, the big English ironclad Sutlej, twelve thousand two hundred tons, had dropped anchor in the harbor. When the German war-flag, proudly fluttering at the stern of the Westburn, was noticed by the Sutlej, the Westburn was already inside the three-mile zone in Spanish waters, and her arrival could not be hindered. It was arranged with the harbor authorities that the prisoners should remain on board until the following morning, and the prize-commander gave them once more to understand that, at the slightest offence against discipline, he would blow up the ship. So, in spite of the presence of the English warship, the prisoners had the sense to remain quiet. The next morning they were partly landed and partly taken on board English ships, while, early in the afternoon, the Westburn left the harbor to avoid being detained by the authorities.
Outside, the Sutlej was lying in wait, eager to pounce upon her presumed prey the moment she left the three-mile zone. Hardly had the Westburn steamed out of the harbor, however, than she was seen to be surrounded by a white flame. The ship swayed to one side, while the crew rushed to the boats.
According to the papers, one of the boilers, all of which were in a wretched condition, had burst. Whether true or not, this incident played into our hands. It was very considerate of the ill-fated boiler to explode just at the precise moment when the Westburn was liable either to be seized by the Spanish authorities or pounced upon by the English vessel. It was far better for us that the cargo of four thousand tons of coal should go to the bottom of the sea rather than that it should be utilized by an English ship.
The very next day after parting from the Westburn we caught sight of another steamer. After a four hours' pursuit we ascertained that she was a neutral, and we slunk away in the darkness, hoping we had not been recognized.