AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE
Towards evening the wind jumped round to NNW., and fell considerably. In
the course of the night we sighted two more English ships of the
auxiliary cruiser type, but neither of them took the slightest notice of
us. Our luck in this respect began to seem a little uncanny. Could there
be something behind it? Did the English know about our coming? In that
case caution was doubly necessary, for if our plans had been betrayed,
there would be no lack of patrolling craft on the Irish coast.
My orders tied me to a definite time of arrival. This was two days off.
To arrive an hour too soon or too late might spoil everything, for no
one would be expecting me. We measured off distances on the chart. There
could be no doubt about it that if we continued steaming at our present
pace we should make Tralee a day too soon--an eventuality which had
appeared so improbable that none of those who planned our voyage had
taken it into account.
With the intention of running in on the evening of the next day, as this
would be the most favourable time for us, I steered south-east at
reduced speed, intending to approach the steamer track. So far, of
course, I had avoided it. While I was sketching out the plan of action
for the next day, there came a knock at the door. 'Well, Battermann,' I
said to the signalman, who entered, 'what is it? Surely not another of
them?'
'Just what it is, captain. Another of these Englishmen. Three miles away
on our starboard beam. We saw him just coming out of a squall.'
As I came on deck a long black steamer with narrow funnels was steaming
down on us at full speed. The first-officer had meanwhile given the
order for emergency stations, and was steaming, with the usual reduced
speed, on an easterly course. We might thus be supposed to be coming
from America.
'The "conjurer's box" is watertight,' came the report from below, and
the usual 'bag of tricks' was hurriedly passed down. It was high time,
for the Englishman was approaching us with alarming rapidity. He looked
as if he meant to bite us, damn him!
'Down, Hector! Down, sir!' The dog was barking furiously on the
forecastle head. They must have heard him clearly on the English ship,
for we, on our part, could hear the ringing of their engine-room
telegraph.
She stopped her engines scarcely five hundred yards away. Now for the
prize crew, thought I. But as I had no desire for a closer acquaintance,
I kept the _Aud_ waddling quietly along at a 'speed'--if you can call it
so--of five knots. We carried on meanwhile, as if the English ship was
not there.
She was an old Oriental liner of some 6000 tons burden, and somehow I
could not help thinking that I had seen her before. Suddenly I
remembered. Of course, it was on that very promenade deck that I had
spent a pleasant hour or two at a reception held on board her, in
Fremantle, West Australia. What a contrast the deck presented then and
now! Instead of the fair faces and gay summer frocks, which then made so
pleasing a picture, some dozens of English bluejackets were crowded at
the rail, watching us curiously, and where the comfortable liner
deck-chairs had stood, a couple of grim-looking three-inch guns were
turning their ugly muzzles on us.
Whether she perhaps expected us to wish her a polite good-morning, I do
not know, but any way, instead of her old tattered scrap of bunting, she
suddenly ran up a brand-new ensign. No doubt she wanted to impress us.
However, we Norwegians were far too phlegmatic to worry ourselves about
little things like that. And so everything remained just as it was
before. No boat was lowered; no prize crew came on board.
And yet the auxiliary cruiser did appear to be taking an unwelcome
interest in us. She came closer, took a good look at our starboard side,
and crossed our stern once or twice. Then she lay to port of us with her
engines stopped, but without making any signal. The gun crews meanwhile
had disappeared.
It looked as though they intended to respect our 'neutrality,' and no
wonder if it was a question of looks. As I kept quietly steaming ahead,
the distance between us gradually increased. On the English ship all
eyes were fixed on us as though we had been some kind of strange animal.
Then we heard her engine-room telegraph bell, and a second time she came
speeding towards us. This time she came up close on our port side and
... shot past and went foaming off to the eastward.
'That puts the lid on it,' muttered Düsselmann. 'Captain, let's make all
speed for Tralee, and steam right in with colours flying. If they don't
have a triumphal archway ready to welcome us, they're not the men I take
them for.'
Certainly, anything seemed to be possible to these English.
If only, I thought to myself, there isn't something behind it. The
business began to look queer.
Why did the English never ask us, as they were in duty bound to do,
where we were from and where we were bound for? Why did they snuff round
us on all sides as one dog does to another? Did they want to lull us
into a false security? And yet, so far as I could see, a betrayal of our
enterprise was absolutely out of the question.[10] I believed then, and
have since confirmed my impression that they let us pass in all
innocence. And that was a brilliant feat even for Englishmen.
FOOTNOTE:
[10] So far as an actual betrayal is concerned, the author is probably
right; but it appears from the evidence published in the _Times_ of the
25th of May, 1918, that some of Count Bernstorff's messages dealing with
the preparations for this expedition had been intercepted.