Now the biggest ship we captured in the Atlantic was a 9,800-ton
British steamer loaded with champagne--the _Horngarth_. That was our
banner day.
She was well armed and had a wireless. She hove into sight one
morning, and we could see that she would make a tough customer for
our sailing ship to handle. But why not have a good look at her? We
set the signal:
"Chronometer time, please."
The way she paid no attention to the request said very clearly:
"Let that old windjammer go and buy a watch!"
But we had other devices. We had a smoke apparatus to send clouds
rolling out of the galley, and on the galley roof was a dish loaded
with a quantity of magnesium which when lighted produced a wicked red
flame. We set the smoke and fire going, and ran up distress signals.
The _Seeadler_ now was the most dramatic-looking ship afire you ever
saw. Thirty of my crew armed with rifles hid behind the rail, and
Schmidt quickly dressed up as the captain's wife, the beautiful but
simpering "Josefeena" of the big feet. We had another piece of
apparatus which we now used for the first time. It was a kind of
cannon made out of a section of smokestack. It was loaded with a
charge of powder, and you touched it off with a lighted cigarette.
It was quite harmless but made a terrifying noise. You would have
thought it a super-dreadnaught's full broadside. I picked three
sailors who had the most powerful voices aboard, gave them large
megaphones, and stationed them on the topmast yards of the mainmast
and mizzen.
If that steamer was short on courtesy, she was long on humanity. She
came rushing heroically to the aid of the old sailship that was
blazing so dramatically just astern. She had a powerful wireless
set, and as I stood on my bridge watching her as she steamed toward
us I could not take my eyes off the five-inch gun on her deck. What
was our little popgun beside that piece of ordnance? One shot would
blow us right out of the water.
The steamer had a big fat captain, who had his cap pulled down over
one eye. His voice, even when he whispered, was a deep bellow. You
should have heard it through the megaphone! The steamer drew near.
The fat captain raised his megaphone.
"What the hell's the matter with you?" His voice boomed across like
the rumble of our old cannon.
We cut off the smoke and flame. It looked as if we had fought our
fire successfully. Schmidt, the captain's beautiful wife, tripped
along the deck with coquettish movements of shoulders and hips. The
officers on the steamer's bridge eyed the fair vision and exchanged
smiles with that rogue of a Schmidt. Nor was the fat captain
insensible to feminine charms. He rolled his eyes and grinned with
the expression of a skipper who can easily "cut his officers out."
"Look at the wireless, Leudemann," I said, "and the five-inch gun."
"Knock the wireless over," he replied, "and let's have it out with
the five-inch gun."
"Clear the deck for action," I roared.
Instantly, the beautiful Schmidt threw off his silken dress, and in
the uniform of a German gob kicked his blonde wig around the deck.
The Britishers stared aghast. The German flag ran up, our riflemen
arose from behind the rail, ready to pick off anyone who tried to
handle the five-inch gun. Bang, crash, and our gun knocked over the
wireless shack. A tremendous detonation, and our false smokestack
cannon added its voice to the general effect.
The steamer's crew swarmed on deck and ran around like crazy animals.
The captain telephoned his order to start the engines. His engine
crew was on deck as panicky as the others. He ordered the boats
swung out. His men were already doing that as well as their fright
allowed.
"Clear the deck for action," he howled.
That only gave the crew a greater scare than ever.