IN THE ATLANTIC
At last we were out in the open.
The Atlantic did not receive us in a very friendly manner it must be
confessed.
We had grown used to a good deal in the last few days, but I was anxious
to spare the nerves of the crew as much as possible, on account of the
long journey that lay before us. I decided therefore to take a more
southerly direction, in order to try and hit on fairer weather if
possible. Unfortunately we were to be disappointed in this, as will be
seen.
As I glance to-day through my notes of those first days in the Atlantic,
I continually come across remarks of this kind: "Heavy Sea," "Stiff wind
from the W.N.W., Strength 8," "Wind blowing up for a storm," "Heavy
seas rolling over the whole boat and even over the conning-tower," "Boat
travelling almost continuously under water," etc. In these few curt
sentences lies the history of the hard and nerve-racking existence of
twenty-nine men, shut up in the body of a steel fish, as she made her
way untiringly through the wild tossing seas.
I know of no better opportunity of praising the excellently thought-out
construction and the perfect seafaring qualities of our "Deutschland"
than in calling to mind those stormy days in the Atlantic. The elements
certainly did not help to make our journey to America an easy one. The
highest possible demands were made on the body and machinery of the
boat, which had to be continually at work day after day in order that we
might reach our destination.
And here I cannot help thinking with gratitude of the dockyard and all
the men whose work had contributed to help us complete our journey by
giving this wonderful piece of sea-craft mechanism into our hands.
It is easy to wax enthusiastic over a fine ship, that delights the eye
of every onlooker when in harbour by her elegance, and extracts the
admiration of the expert and the uninitiated by her rapid movement
in smooth waters. But the real inner worth of a ship is only to be
discovered when she has completed her test on the high seas. Then, and
only then, you learn her best qualities and gain that real confidence in
her trustworthiness and seafaring capabilities, when the wind is blowing
with a strength 10, and the sea has a roughness 8, during which you must
go head on. And this not only for a couple of hours, but day after day,
week after week. Only then can a ship prove what she is really worth.
This is particularly the case with a U-Boat in war time. A merchantman
in peace time has very often a severe strain in holding out, but she
has always the possibility of seeking a port of refuge, or of hailing
assistance. At the worst, she can drift a few days and wait for smoother
weather. None of this is possible with the U-Boat. To the dangers of
the sea are added the dangers from the enemy, the cruellest and most
pitiless of enemies. No haven of refuge beckons to her, and if she were
to lie for a few minutes helpless and be discovered, her adversaries,
who would have helped a damaged steamer in distress, would loosen the
greedy bloodhounds at her throat.
No one is so lonely and entirely dependent on himself as a U-Boat
captain. If he cannot absolutely rely on his vessel, then he is lost.
It is for this reason that we realised how much we owed to the Germania
docks and to the chief engineer, Erbach, the inventor of our boat. It
was his plans combined with the splendid co-operation of the submarine
builders and shipping officials that had given birth to this wonderful
seafaring vessel. The boat which in the winter of 1915 arose on the
slips at Kiel, in so short a space of time and yet with the precision
of accurate workmanship, and which Herr Erbach taught me to work and
understand on that memorable test voyage early in the year, was now two
months later bravely ploughing her way through the stormy seas, carrying
the fame of German shipbuilding across the ocean.
* * * * *
The "Deutschland" had therefore been severely tested, and had come
through with flying colours. For several days the weather remained the
same, with hurricane gusts lashing up the water into crashing mountains
of waves.
All the deck hatches were, of necessity, closed, and at times even the
conning-tower hatch, which was so well sheltered by the "bath-tank," had
to be closed by the watch-officer at every onrush of the waves.
It was far from pleasant in the conning-tower. But below deck, where the
men were suffering badly from sea-sickness in the close atmosphere and
with the incessant rolling of the boat, it was a thousand times worse.
Many an experienced seaman made his first offering to Neptune on this
occasion.
On the third day it grew calmer. The sea became smoother and we were
able to open the hatches in order to air and dry the boat.
All the men of the off duty watch came on deck and stretched themselves
out in the sun, seeking a much-needed relaxation.
Worn out and pale faced they appeared through the hatches; and hardly
had they inhaled the fresh sea breeze before their beloved pipes were
lighted.
As we met very few steamers on our present course, we set to work to
give everything a good drying. All the wet articles that could not be
dried down below were brought up into the air.
The whole deck was packed with beds, coverlets, clothes, and boots. The
clothes were fastened securely to the deck rails, where they fluttered
merrily in the wind, as if from a washing line. In between them the crew
reposed in the strangest positions, sunning themselves like lizards. In
order to increase the artificial ventilation of the rooms by means of a
draught of air, wind-sails were hung up in all the hatches. With their
jagged side wings they looked rather like the fins of a fish, and made
the rounded green superstructure of the "Deutschland" look like the back
of a fantastic monster whale. We must truly have presented a strange
spectacle.
No one was near, however, to notice it. We sighted one steamer only,
whose smoke appeared towards evening on the horizon, and we were easily
able to steer clear of her.
The spirits of the crew were excellent, as was shown by the merry
warbling of the gramophone from the men's room.
In our mess-room, likewise, we enlivened the time with classical music,
without which life on a U-Boat would not bear thinking of. Moreover,
the monotonous part of our journey was now to begin. The fine weather
continued, and we met with few encounters.
I find in my journal only the following notes: "The dull period of our
journey is commencing. The boat is making her way, rolling slightly, but
bearing herself bravely. Now and then we go out of our way to avoid a
steamer. For several days there is nothing to be seen; the gramophones
play gaily, and everyone is in the best of humours. On the open sea we
are entirely dependent on the weather for our comfort."
It was, as a matter of fact, the first moment that we had been able
to breathe freely. Looking round on all sides one became almost
incorporated with the everlasting sameness of the sea.
One day I was standing on the fore-deck. Near me Humke, our giant
boatswain, squatted in the wooden scaffolding of the small central
upper-deck under which we had snugly stored our lifeboat. Several
lashings had been loosened during the stormy weather, and had to be
repaired.
I had stood there for some time, gazing westward, my thoughts fixed on
America, our destination.
Suddenly I took it into my head to broach the subject to the sturdy
Humke. I asked him what he thought of our voyage to America in
these days of war. What were his impressions as to the object of our
enterprise?
The rascal grinned broadly and replied:
"Why, to earn money, of course."
This reply was a little too summary for my taste, and I proceeded
to explain to him the real significance of renewing our commercial
relations with America in war time, in defiance of the English blockade.
I then proceeded to make clear to him exactly what the blockade meant.
He grasped the idea quickly, and said:
"Well, now I understand what the English are after."
I went further, and explained to him as fully as I could the meaning and
exigencies of an effective blockade, and was surprised at the directness
of his answer, which expressed so naively and with such confidence the
feelings of the people in the simple language of our sea-folk.
"Well, they won't get _us_, any'ow! And so there ain't no sense in the
English blockade, as I can see!"
In the meantime several of the watch off duty had strolled up and
gathered around to listen. There they stood, broad-legged, on the narrow
deck of our little submarine in the middle of the Atlantic, a handful of
sturdy, unabashed German seamen.
"Men," I said, "you have heard now the reason of our voyage, but I will
tell you something more. My good fellows, you have no idea what our
cruise really signifies. Our gallant 'Deutschland' is much more than a
mere U-Boat merchant-trader. By her means we are bringing German goods
to America; goods which the commercial jealousy and trickiness of the
English have so far prevented from reaching that country. And this not
only to injure Germany's exports, but in order to continue their gloomy
fishing over yonder they do their utmost to harm American industry and
commerce.
"That is all a thing of the past. We are seeing to that. But this is
not all. The appearance of the first U-Boat trader is of far deeper
significance. Without even a gun or torpedo on board, the 'Deutschland'
is revolutionising the entire methods of navigation, overseas trade and
international rights, a revolution whose effects can hardly be fully
realised as yet.
"How, in these days of warfare, have our armed U-Boats fared? We wanted
to use them as a means to prevent this barbaric starvation blockade,
which violates every right of humanity, and what did the English do?
They armed their merchantmen and shot down every U-Boat that approached
them with the object of sinking their contraband.
"That is what they call 'defending themselves.' And what is the result?
We proceed to defend our skin and our U-Boats,--knowing that in every
fishing vessel a 'Baralong' murderer lies in wait,--by sinking the armed
English merchant ships without warning in order to save ourselves from
being rammed or fired on.
"Thereupon the English shriek for help, and by reason of the existing
conventions of sea warfare they win the Americans over to their
side, for under the present laws of sea warfare there are no definite
conditions laid down for U-Boats. We wish to maintain friendly relations
with the great American people, and therefore give in. The Government
which rewarded the 'Baralong' commanders has triumphed apparently,
and the command goes forth: merchant ships are not to be sunk without
warning.
"Then our 'Deutschland' appears on the scenes, a U-Boat and merchantman
combined. Now merchantmen must not be sunk without warning, and,
moreover, the present laws of sea warfare contain no definite conditions
for U-Boats. A U-Boat trader, however, that must be searched before
sinking would be difficult to recognise, if still capable of submerging.
For then the swiftest torpedo-boat is powerless.
"The English are caught in their own trap, for the 'Deutschland' throws
the whole one-sided interpretation of the rules of naval warfare on
the rubbish heap. The weapon that was at first used against us must now
speak in our favour.
"For the matter stands thus. If merchantmen--which can at the same time
be U-Boats--may not be sunk without warning, then according to the
laws and formalities of sea warfare the 'Deutschland' has rendered the
English blockade futile. For I should like to see the German U-Trader
that would allow an English patrol vessel to approach near enough to
examine her!
"Or supposing she is not searched. Then, in that case, merchant traders
_can_ be sunk without warning--English traders likewise. And thus
the rights of warfare will be evenly balanced once more by means of a
peaceful, unarmed U-Boat trader. And this, my men, is where the enormous
significance of our 'Deutschland' lies."
Thereupon I concluded my speech, which was by far the longest I had ever
made.
* * * * *
The fine weather still continued. The barometer remained steady, the air
was dry and clear. We were gradually approaching the latitudes in which
fine weather is the rule at that time of the year. The warmth of
the sun's rays began to be felt, and our thoughts turned towards
refreshment.
This was provided us by our "wave-bath," a discovery of the observation
engineer, Herr Kiszling, who otherwise showed no interest in anything
but his beloved engines. For these he was full of the most touching and
undeviating solicitude. Often, during a heavy sea, when all the deck
hatches were closed, he would suddenly appear through the conning-hatch
and push hastily through into the "bath-tank," regardless of the
exigencies of higher navigation in process there.
When the officer on duty looked round, annoyed at the disturbance, there
was our sturdy Kiszling, in his oldest oilskins, leaning over the side
of the dripping deck--filled with care for the welfare of his engines,
trying to get a glimpse of the exhaust. At the same time he must see
if the ignition was working properly, if the heart-beats of his engines
were carrying out their functions, and if the explosions were quite
regular. He was wrapped up in his beloved machinery and lived on its
rhythmical music. He noticed at once the least irregularity in its
working, and spared no trouble in getting to the bottom of it.
It must have been during one of these special tours of his, which were
by no means without danger, over the rounded slippery side-deck, that
the inspiration came to him. In brief, he opened to us the joyful
possibility of the "wave-bath."
In order to understand this, it is first necessary to know the
construction of the upper part of the "Deutschland." Above the
cylindrical hull, on the sides of which are the submersion tanks and
oil bunkers, rises the outer ship, which gives the vessel its real ship
form.
In this upper part of the outer ship, the so-called "outer tanks" are
placed which, when the ship is laden, are always flooded, as water and
air may penetrate to their interior by numerous openings, holes and
slits, in order that a rapid filling and emptying may be achieved. The
"outer tanks," therefore, have no connection with the floating capacity
of the boat; they are only the result of the outer construction which
above water does not follow the line of the heavy hull and tanks. In
spite of their relatively unimportant functions the "outer tanks" must,
of course, be accessible from the upper parts of the vessel. This is
made possible by large movable steel lids and by ladders on the upper
surface of the deck. Standing on the so-called tank-deck, therefore,
you have a slight elevation to the upper deck surface. The sea water is
continually rushing into these big spaces during the voyage. You have
only to climb in through the opened plate lids to enjoy an absolutely
safe and delightful sea-water bath.
We did not fail to put this into practice pretty often, and found our
bath delightful. There was only one drawback to the business. If, for
instance, you entered the sea-water bath for the first time, soon after
the boat had risen to the surface, you found yourself not in sea-water,
but in an oil bath!
The bunkers, as a matter of fact, never hold quite tight, especially
after a long strain of travelling, and so it often happens that as the
boat rises to the surface a curious layer of oil breaks through before
she reaches the top. This layer of oil is then to be found in the "bath
tank," on the lids of the hatches and on deck. Inside the "outer tanks"
it naturally remains on the surface of the water, for there it is not
able to mix and disperse quickly. It generally remains there a day,
sometimes longer, till the oily water is drained off and replaced by
new water again. The unlucky man, therefore, who took a bath during
this period, emerged but little refreshed and with a shiny nickel-coated
skin. This metamorphosis, as can be imagined, caused great amusement
among the crew.
* * * * *
The fine weather now was very favourable for submerging tests, which
were made practically every day. Everything worked perfectly smoothly,
and we felt we could safely approach the American coast and submerge
within the three-mile zone.
During one of these submerging tests a wonderful and fairy-like
spectacle was presented to us. I had caused the boat to be steered so
that the conning-tower lay nearly two fathoms under water. Above, the
sun shone brightly and filled the deeps with radiant light. The water
was lit by many colours. Around us the sea was of brightest azure blue
of an almost dazzling clearness, and transparent as glass. From the
window of the conning-tower I could see the whole length of the boat,
round which rose twinkling air bubbles, like pearls. In strange,
fantastic distinctness the deck lay stretched out before me, even the
furthest bow end was visible. Further ahead was a dim-coloured twilight.
It seemed as if the bow of the boat was gliding silently through a wall
of opal green, which opened up as she moved, and broke into a dazzling
radiant-coloured transparency of light.
We were spellbound at this wonderful sight, and the strangeness of
the effect was increased by the jelly-fish as they floated through the
transparent blue and were caught in the wires of the deck rails, where
they shimmered first rose colour, then pale yellow, changing slowly to
purple.
We were not able at that slight depth to observe any fish.
The next day a little incident occurred which afforded us much
amusement, though it turned out rather differently from what we had
expected.
My ambition was to follow in the tracks of my comrades of the merchant
service and the navy, who had disguised their ships from the enemy by
painting and clever alterations in their outward structure.
During the previous fine spell of weather we had made a wonderful trap
for steamers, in order to disguise our identity as a U-Boat from
ships passing in the distance. We had rigged up a funnel out of some
sail-cloth, which could be fixed to the periscope with several wire
rings, till it rose proudly in the air.
The conning-tower was also provided with a covering of sail-cloth to
make it resemble the upper middle deck of a small trading vessel.
Thus, ready for all emergencies, we travelled on in the brilliant
sunshine, till at 7.30 in the evening a steamer appeared in the distance
to starboard. We soon realised that she must pass quite near to us if
we continued on our present course. We held aloof from her therefore and
proceeded to try the effects of our disguise.
The "funnel" is fixed up on to the periscope and rises proudly erect in
the wind. In order to give it a more realistic appearance we burn
some cotton waste steeped in oil at its base. Then the conning-tower
disappears under the rather flattering "middle deck."
But the disobliging cotton-wool only smoulders horribly and refuses to
give out any smoke. Everyone stands round puffing out their cheeks,
but in vain, till the wireless operator, a shrewd Berliner, fetches
an air-pump, which produces a powerful glow in our imaginary boiler. A
cheer greets his handiwork, and sure enough from the upper edge of the
"funnel" a delicate cloud of smoke appears, only to vanish immediately
into thin air!
Laughing, we decide to continue on our way smokeless, when up comes
the boatswain, Humke, with a jam-pot full of tar. The air-pump is again
brought into play, and at last our funnel can really be said to smoke!
The effect is certainly startling. For the steamer suddenly alters her
course and bears straight down on us!
This is not exactly our intention. The masts are immediately hauled down
and everything cleared for submerging; the middle deck disappears, and
with a deep bow our beautiful funnel falls together in a heap.
No sooner does the steamer observe this than she is seized with wild
amazement and horror. She turns round again abruptly and seeks flight,
puffing out thick black clouds of smoke which we eye not without a
certain feeling of envy.
Once more we raise our indefatigable funnel. The masts are lifted high,
and while the steamer hastens away in wildest flight we stand and laugh
till the tears come.
The situation was really humorous beyond description.
Our beautiful disguise, which was to screen us from observation, had
been the very means of bringing the gallant steamer's attention to bear
upon us. She obviously took us for a wreck, or some ship in distress,
and approached probably with the best intentions, to find herself face
to face with the devilish tricks of one of those rascally submarines.
What must the people on board have thought when they had recovered from
the first effects of the shock? Undoubtedly they would pride themselves
greatly on having escaped so cleverly this new piece of "piratical"
cunning.
And we should have been so proud if our disguise had only worked a
little better! We were not discouraged, however, but set to work to
improve on our invention, with the result that two days later we steamed
by an approaching vessel unrecognised under our own powerful smoke!