While we slowed down, the steamer suddenly accelerated her movements in
an evident attempt to escape. That put an end to my patience. We sent
a shell in her direction, and I heard the captain ironically inquire:
"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.