You see, it is very plain; I estimate the speed of the boat, aim with the periscope and fire at the right moment.
He who wishes to know about this or anything else in this connection should join the navy, or if he is not able to do so, send us his son or brother or nephew.
VI—SCENE OF TERROR AS THE SHIP GOES DOWN
On the occasion in question everything went as calculated. The steamer could not see our cautious and hardly-shown periscope and continued unconcerned on its course. The diving rudder in the "Centrale" worked well and greatly facilitated my unobserved approach. I could clearly distinguish the various objects on board, and saw the giant steamer at a very short distance—how the captain was walking back and forth on the bridge with a short pipe in his mouth, how the crew was scrubbing the forward deck. I saw with amazement—a shiver went through me—a long line of compartments of wood spread over the entire deck, out of which were sticking black and brown horse heads and necks.
Oh, great Scott! Horses! What a pity! Splendid animals!
"What has that to do with it?" I continually thought. "War is war. And every horse less on the western front is to lessen England's defense." I have to admit, however, that the thought which had to come was disgusting, and I wish to make the story about it short.
Only a few degrees were lacking for the desired angle, and soon the steamer would get into the correct focus. It was passing us at the right distance, a few hundred meters.
"Torpedo ready!" I called down into the "Centrale."