THE HOMEWARD JOURNEY
Never had the "Deutschland" travelled so swiftly as in those early
morning hours of the 3rd August. With marvellous speed she raced on,
leaving two broad streaks of foam on either side.
The engines rumbled in perfect rhythm, the combustion was working
without a flaw, and the exhaust showed not the slightest cloud, so
that even Herr Kiszling was thoroughly contented, and in a moment
of unconscious tenderness nearly stroked the shaft of his beloved
engines....
When the sun rose the coast had long disappeared from sight in the
distance in a grey mist, and there was no vessel of any kind to be seen.
We remained on the surface and raced on like the very devil. How much
we owed to our engines! On our arrival at Baltimore, after our long and
difficult journey they had been still in perfect condition; no repairs
were necessary, and we could have made the return journey immediately
without their being overhauled. And yet the engines had been obliged to
work under quite unknown conditions, under conditions which like that
of the terrible temperature in the Gulf Stream had made the very highest
and most unforeseen demands on every part of the machinery.
It can be easily understood that hitherto there had been no opportunity
of testing the working capabilities of oil motors in an outside
temperature of 127 degrees Fahrenheit. Such a contingency could never
have been foreseen in the construction of our type of boat, and the fact
that our motors never struck, that not the least hitch arose, proves
the excellence of the construction and the perfect workmanship of the
dockyard.
Thus we continued on our way, and only too soon found ourselves in the
damp heated atmosphere and heavy air of the Gulf Stream, with all its
beautiful phenomena and peculiarities, its electrically laden air and
stormy sea. With closed hatches and heat in the boat we faced it once
more. And the Stream would not even help to push us along on our course,
as we had hoped.
All hardships were, however, borne with light hearts this time. We had
left the danger zone behind us, and were homeward bound. Moreover, the
sea had become calmer the nearer we approached the area of the Gulf
Stream.
On the evening of the second day it had become possible to open all the
deck hatches again. Hardly had we begun to rejoice that the fresh air
would now make conditions below deck bearable once more, when suddenly
the order came, "Close hatches!" "Submerge!"
A steamer had appeared and was rapidly approaching so directly in our
course that we could not possibly have avoided her above water.
When we rose to the surface again an hour later night had set in,
and with it appeared a most marvellous natural phenomenon of sea
phosphorescence of unearthly splendour.
We had submerged in a calm dark sea; we now arose to an ocean of flame.
A sea phosphorescence had set in of an intensity and glow such as I had
never before experienced, and which is probably only to be found on the
borders of the Gulf Stream.
During our rise, and when we were at about 2 fathoms below the surface,
it seemed as if we were working upwards through a glowing realm of
sparkling transparency. Shortly before the conning-tower arose above
water I glanced round astern, and saw the entire hull of the boat, with
the stern like a dark mass pushing its way through the glowing element.
A fiery whirlpool radiated from the propeller, and every movement of the
boat aroused the wildest phosphorescence--intensive flames, sprays of
sparks, and fiery streaks in the surrounding waters.
Above, a fresh breeze had set in and whipped the seething waters into
glowing balls, while showers of sparkling foam covered the entire
deck. As far as the eye could reach the surface of the sea was one pale
glowing mass, through which our boat ploughed its way in furrows of
fire.
We stood transfixed as the phenomenon increased in intensity with the
sea and wind.
All the men off duty came up and stared out at this enchanting
spectacle, little heeding the seas which swept over the deck, soaking
many of them through to the skin.
"It looks like fire, don't it? But blowed if it don't put yer pipe out,"
remarked our giant boatswain. A spurt had just extinguished his pipe for
the third time, and he reluctantly decided to store the beloved stump
carefully in his pocket.
But the "fire" grew wetter and wetter, and within half an hour
the officers on duty and look-out stood once more alone up in the
conning-tower.
When we got out of the Gulf Stream we had several days of stiff
north-westerly winds and high seas, until, on the ---- August, we ran
into fine weather again.
On one of the following evenings the first officer on duty, Krapohl, was
standing with Humke in the conning-tower scanning the horizon without
ceasing, through the glasses, at a point where the pale sky seemed to
merge into the sea without any observable boundary line.
"Light ahead," announced Humke suddenly.
"If you mean that star, I've noticed it already," the officer replied,
calmly lowering his glasses.
"Wal, I dunno, but that there ain't no star, Herr Krapohl," the sailor
replied, unabashed.
The two called out to me, and I came expectantly out of the tower, took
the glasses and then laughed.
"Humke, you're on the wrong track!" for I noticed high up above the
horizon a faint white light which stood too high, judging by its
strength, to be a ship's light.
The boatswain stolidly maintained his opinion, however.
"Cap'n, that there ain't no star."
I handed him the glasses which he, however, put aside at once,
remarking:
"Ye can't see nothink properly with them things."
He shut his eyes tightly, then took another sharp look and said in
decided tones:
"That ain't no star; that be a light!"
We stared before us with increased sharpness till I was able at last to
make out through the glasses a red glow which now became visible to the
right of the white light. Now we knew that a steamer was approaching us.
At first I held her to be a small vessel, particularly as, to begin
with, the height of the two lights differed but slightly--the red port
light of the steamer was not much below the white light.
But soon I was surprised to observe how noticeably the red light moved,
that is to say, how quickly the space between the two lights appeared to
increase.
From this there was only one possible conclusion to be drawn, and that
was that the vessel was approaching with extraordinary rapidity.
While I was considering this, and picturing it to myself as a swiftly
travelling destroyer, I discovered at a fair distance behind the two
lights something that looked like a white moving ray, or like a faintly
illuminated wave.
We could not make out what this meant till I decided that this wave must
belong to the lights themselves, as they moved together and kept pace
with each other. And a few minutes later there appeared tremblingly on
the strong lens of the glasses the faint outline of a mighty steamer,
which with elaborate superstructure was approaching in the dark night.
The white ray of light was her stern water, which owing to the colossal
length of the ship was only visible at a considerable distance from her
side lights.
For some minutes longer we continued to stare, then we discovered four
towering funnels, and were soon convinced that we had a big Cunard liner
in front of us which was racing up in semi-darkness, only showing her
head-lights.
It really was a ghostly apparition, to observe how the mighty
darkened ship raced on through the night. There is not much need to be
romantically inclined in order to picture this meeting with the "Flying
Dutchman," while Humke expressed his feelings in the words: "Lor', ain't
she just a beauty, lads!"
"Full speed ahead!" and with "helm hard astarboard" we slipped away
from the course of the mighty Cunarder. All the men of the watch off
duty meanwhile had come up to get a view of her from the deck and
hatches.
In spite of a sharp look-out nothing appeared in sight during the next
few days. The weather keeping fine our homeward journey--even more
than when we were outward-bound--assumed the character of a peaceful,
uneventful business voyage.
It was now that we first began fully to appreciate the convenient and
practical inner fittings of the whole boat, and particularly our cabins
and cosy little mess-room. Often as we sat round the table at mess while
the gramophones played gaily, we thought with gratitude of those who had
not only invented the seaworthy shape of our boat, but had fitted her
interior up so that a life of comparative comfort and ease was possible
even under the sea.
When on these occasions our gallant Stucke, with his blonde white hair,
his honest face full of earnest gravity, and his habitually surprised
expression placed a bottle of good red Californian wine in front of
us, as we lay comfortably "somewhere" at the bottom of the sea, while
overhead, at a height of X fathoms, a hearty wind was blowing, it needed
little imagination to picture oneself as a second Captain Nemo, who with
his highly modern Nautilus could probe the depths, and snap his fingers
at the injustice and tyranny of a certain people--provided, that is to
say, one had read Jules Verne.
For I must here confess, what I had hitherto carefully concealed from
everyone, that it was only as captain of a submarine trader on my
return journey from America that I was enabled to make good a very sad
deficiency in my education. The chance I had wasted in my youth I
now came across at the age of forty-nine in the steel body of the
"U Deutschland," of making myself acquainted with Jules Verne's _Twenty
Thousand Leagues under the Sea_.
The book had been sent me while I was at Baltimore through the kindness
of an American friend. It is a book--how shall I describe it?--of
incitement and emulation. I read it with the greatest interest.
* * * * *
The rest of our return journey is soon told. We travelled on smoothly
and peacefully homewards, avoiding a few distant steamers above
water--in which little game we had gradually become extremely well
practised--and meeting on the whole with good weather, some mist, and
much smooth sea.
One afternoon I was sitting working at the writing-table in my cabin,
when suddenly I heard from the control-room close by the order "20 to
starboard" repeated. Immediately after came "10 to port," whereupon,
without waiting to hear any more, I hurried on deck.
There a strange sight awaited me. All around, as far as the eye could
reach, the sea was covered with a mass of dark, floating oil casks
through which we had to steer our way.
At first I took the black, weird-looking objects, which danced up and
down on the waves before us, for a mine-field, until the characteristic
shape of the sharp angular casks, or so-called barrels, and their
contents which had spread partly over the water, testified to their
harmlessness. Nevertheless we had to steer carefully through this
strange plantation, as the area was too wide a one to avoid without
going considerably out of our course. We estimated the number of casks
that were visible to us as at least a thousand.
"Fine practice," remarked Krapohl, "for the elegance with which we shall
twist through the English mine-fields later on. I think we might risk
the return through the English Channel."
We went on, therefore, at half-speed to port--starboard--port, for
over an hour. Scattered parts of vessels were to be seen on the water,
possibly the results of wrecks or mines.
We must by this time have gradually come within the sphere of the
English look-out ships. The watch was doubled, everyone standing at
their submerging stations.
From time to time we noticed vessels whose attention we avoided by
submerging or altering our course. One warship, apparently a small
English cruiser, we allowed no possibility of seeing us by immediately
diving. When, after an hour's undersea journey, we again rose slowly
to the surface, we saw from a depth of 6½ fathoms, through the
periscope, another English ship, and went down again to 11 fathoms, and
this was repeated three times in succession.
At noon we rose at last for good, emptied the tanks, and then travelled
at top speed over the water.
Favoured by the fine weather we approached our goal with considerable
rapidity; and on August ---- at eight o'clock in the evening, we saw a
circle of white lights all round the horizon.
Our natural fear was, of course, that we were surrounded; if we turned
to starboard we saw those accursed lights, to port--there they were too.
Finally our excellent Zeiss glasses removed our fears that at the last
moment with the homeland already in sight we had fallen into a trap. The
twilight was still clear enough to allow us to see and recognize from
the construction of the uncanny-looking ships that only some harmless
Dutch fishing boats lay before us.