_Karl's Diary resumed_.
Sailed at 9 p.m. last night, and we are now seventeen miles off Beachy
Head. The Straits of Dover were frightful; the glare of the acetylene
flares on the barrage showed for miles. Seen from a distance it gave me
the impression of the gates of hell, through which we had to pass.
I dived, ten miles away, and went through with the tide at a depth of
forty metres.
Two hours and three quarters of suspense, and at dawn we came up,
having passed safely through the great deathtrap. At the moment there
is nothing in sight, except a little smoke on the horizon. I am going
to dive again till dusk.