Late in the afternoon of the same day we broke into a peacefully working fishing flotilla just like a wolf into a flock of sheep. In order to be sure no shepherd with his dog was guarding them we, keeping ourselves submerged, carefully examined each ship. I could not see a gun or anything suspicious anywhere.

All were peacefully occupied at their casting nets, fishing. There were seven fishing steamers and nine sailing ships, which were scattered over a distance of about three miles. The weather was glorious, even better than the day before. The sun smiled from a steel blue sky and danced in golden stripes on the bright, calm surface of the sea. A gentle northerly swell rocked the fishing boats back and forth, so that the gaffs and the frames on which the extra nets had been stretched to dry were swinging and banging.

Countless numbers of sea gulls were flying about close to the flotilla. With shrill cries and in thick flocks, they swooped down on the sterns of some isolated boats, and hurled themselves, gliding on their wings, into the refuse of the last catch which the fishermen were throwing overboard.

The horizon stood out visibly from the sea all around and seemed to be a great shining, glittering ring. Not a speck of cloud spotted its bright edges. Nothing was visible except our fishermen.

Hurrah, this was just the weather for us! A rare and favorable opportunity had presented itself here to play a trick on the English fish market.

As a ghost, I suddenly arose behind one of the fishing steamers, pushed the conning tower hatch up, and jumped up on the tower, holding the flag of war in one hand and the megaphone in the other.

“Halloo-o-o!”

The fishermen stared at us open mouthed, rooted to the spot as if paralyzed by fear of us.

“Halloo-o-o-o, Captain!” I shouted for the second time. “I want to talk to you.”

After some time a figure emerged from the crowd, stepped up the stairway, and shouted some words that were not very clear but which sounded like:

“Here I am!”

I summoned my best English and told the red-nosed chap that I would have to sink before sundown the whole fleet of fishing boats, and furthermore I told him that I had selected him to take the crews of all the others aboard his steamer. I added he must immediately cut his nets and follow me at a distance of five hundred meters, and that I would promptly blow him to pieces if he, of his own accord, attempted to diminish this distance as I would then surely believe he intended to ram me.

The captain declared he was willing to obey my commands, cut the nets, and followed me. I ordered full speed ahead and hoisted to the mast the following signal:

“Leave the boat immediately!”

Then I rushed in among the excited swarm. With flashing eyes, the sailors were standing by our guns and waiting, lovingly fondling the shells, ready to begin firing.

First we went right through the crowd of fishing-boats and then along the edges of the fleet, in order to prevent the escape of the steamers furthest away. Nowhere did we take the time to stop to sink a ship, but only drove the crews away from their boats. Then the prey could not get away from us.

How promptly the fishermen alighted because of the fear of our shells! They scrambled aboard the one steamer selected to save them in such a rush it looked like a panicky flight. Soon cutters and rowboats were swarming all around us and speedily the steamer selected to save the crews was crowded.

But even during such an exciting occupation we did not neglect to keep a sharp lookout, for under no circumstances were we to be taken by surprise when at this work. But it was easy to look out over a great distance. The horizon was free and clear.

As soon as the fishermen were safe aboard the steamer, we began the sinking of the ships and went from ship to ship, stopped at a distance of a hundred meters, and sent solid, well-aimed shots at their water lines until they had had enough and began to sink. Many went down with the first shot. Others were tougher and required four. For the gun crew this was great sport. They took turns and each jealously counted the number of shots required for his “fisherman.”

When the steamers were “fixed,” we went to the sailing boats, which, in accordance with their inveterate custom, were lying huddled together. The sailors generally needed only one shot—then they capsized and sank into the sea with a death gurgle. It was a touching scene which, in spite of our inner joy, was hard on our nerves, as every true sailor regards the sailing-ship as a remnant of romance, dying out faster and faster in these days.

This was truly the reason why now and at other times our hearts ached for each sailing ship which we had to sink. The surface was covered with hundreds of thousands of dead fish which were scattered over the sea. To countless sea gulls it was a highly welcome call to dinner, which they eagerly accepted, gorging themselves and filling themselves so that their feathers stood straight out from their bodies.

We had already sent thirteen ships to the bottom, only two sailing-ships remaining besides the rescue steamer. As the opportunity was a rare one, I permitted the firemen and men from the engine room to come up on deck so that they could see with their own eyes a ship go down. I enjoyed hearing their funny remarks and to watch how, in their childish joy, they enthusiastically greeted each new shot. I was glad to see the bright color the fresh air and excitement brought to their pale faces. GrÖning stepped up to me and said thoughtfully:

“What will happen if the steamer goes to England and tells our position? Following the events of yesterday afternoon, this morning and now, the English can easily figure out our course.”

“By Jove, you are right there! I had not happened to think of that. It is indeed true that one gets duller as the years go by. That must be prevented under all circumstances, especially on account of to-morrow. You know what then—don’t you?”

GrÖning nodded.

“Yes, to-morrow we’ll have a trying day,” I continued, “and, if we are going to succeed, we can’t make conditions any harder for ourselves.”

I was pondering the question of how we were going to avoid the danger of being betrayed by the fishermen without endangering their lives, which I did not want to do. I thought this over for a moment. Suddenly I struck my forehead with my hand and laughed.

“So stupidly foolish! One is never able to think of the simplest way!” I said. “We’ll simply shift the entire crowd to one of the sailing-ships. With this light breeze, it will take them at least three days to reach the coast and, after that, it does not matter. It will be a little crowded for so many people, but that can’t be helped.”

“And the provisions?” GrÖning asked. “What are they going to live on?”

“That’s simple,” I answered. “First of all they can take off all the provisions from the steamer and, besides that, they have all the fish in the sailing-ship.”

I sank the smaller of the two sailboats and then approached the steamer which had taken aboard the crews from the other boats.

The captain of the steamer was bitterly disappointed, of course, when I brought him word that all hands would have to go to the sailboat. He had been so delighted to be the one chosen to keep his steamer. On the other hand, to the captain of the sailing-ship, the message that he could go back to his old, faithful smack came as a gift from heaven.

Yes, indeed, joy and sorrow lie close together and go hand in hand.

After a short half hour the shift was made, and the steamer also went down into the deep—the fifteenth ship within two hours. First the skipper carefully hauled up his nets and then with flapping sails slowly swung around and laid his course toward the west.

During the night we dropped down to the bottom of the ocean at X——. We wanted to get some rest for one night and gather strength for the next day. It is comfortable to lie in the soft sands of the North Sea. It is as if the whole boat went to bed. One thing necessary for this comfort was a calm surface, because a heavy sea is felt at a great depth and throws and bangs the boat back and forth on the bottom.

Slowly the boat slipped deeper and deeper. We had taken soundings before submerging. The nearer we came to the bottom the slower the dynamo motors worked, and I at last stopped them entirely when we were a few meters from the bottom. As soon as we had stopped sinking, which could be told by the fact the diving rudder was no longer working, a few liters of water were pumped into a ballast tank made for just this purpose. The boat became heavier and slowly sunk further.

“Now, we’ll soon strike,” I called down to the “Centrale” and looked at the manometer.

Hardly had the words left my lips when we felt a very gentle shock—much weaker than when a train stops—and knew we were at the bottom. Some more water was pumped into the ballast tanks in order to make the boat steadier and then each one at his post carefully examined scuttles and hatchways so that not a drop of water could leak through to us. From bow to stern it was reported:

“All is tight!”

Thereafter orders were given for the necessary guards, and then I let the crew leave their posts:

“All hands to be free to-night!”

Until to-morrow on the bottom of the ocean! No other restfulness can be compared with it. Rest after so much excitement which has stirred the emotions of us all; after such a day’s work, is it possible that any one can appreciate how we enjoyed ourselves?

We did not care that we were not in port and that a mountain of ocean was over our heads. We felt as secure as if we had been at the safest spot in the world. From their posts the crew went past us, with pale, oily, and dirty faces, but with their eyes looking at me as they went by, proud, happy, radiant, so that my heart rejoiced.

There was some excitement among the crew. Every one washed, talked and laughed so that it was evident how happy and care-free they felt.

“Well, with what will you treat us to-day?” I asked the cook who, with great self-confidence—because he was an expert in his line—was standing before his little galley and stirring a steaming pot. “That smells wonderfully appetizing.”

“Ox goulash and salt potatoes,” answered the cook and with more eagerness stirred his pot. “It soon will be ready. It’ll not take more than five minutes.”

“Then I must hurry up,” I replied, and went to my small cabin, where I had not put foot since five o’clock in the morning.

I put my cap, long scarf and oil-skin jacket on a hook, stretched myself in weary delight and washed myself energetically. This is a rare pleasure on a trip like ours. From the nearby room the happy talk of the officers reached my ears. I then heard a rattle of plates and forks, a cork popped from a bottle, and GrÖning opened the little door that separates my cabin from the room of the other officers.

“Herr Captain, dinner is ready,” he said.

Soon we were sitting, four men in all, at a little, nicely decorated table, cutting into the steaming platter and drinking out of small seidels a magnificent sparkling wine. The past day’s events had to be moistened a little with the best we had. This was our custom when the fortunes of war smiled graciously on us.

The electrical heating apparatus furnishes all the heat needed, but it still has the disadvantage that in the still, unchanged air, the heat arises so that the temperature at the floor is several degrees colder than at the ceiling. Even in our heavy sea-boots, we felt it a little, although, as a whole, we were warm and contented. The phonograph played continuously. The petty officers had taken charge of it and played one native song after another. What a thrill ran through me! At once there was silence. All talk stopped. German songs of the Fatherland were sung deep down at the bottom of the ocean right on England’s coast. Inspired by the music, our hearts were filled with enthusiasm and a silent promise was made to give everything for the Fatherland—to become a scourge to the enemy and damage him with all our might.

Thereafter, the dance music, operettas, vaudeville songs, and ragtime were played. These stirred up a buoyant spirit. Especially there was much joy among the firemen and sailors in the crew’s quarters. Funny songs could be heard from that direction. Dirty playing cards were dug out and soon there was a real German skat game in full swing.

During this time we, in the officers’ mess, raised our glasses and drank toasts to one another and to the beautiful U-boat: “Rich spoils! A happy journey home! Long live the U-boat!” That is the U-boat toast.

The boat was lying very still. It didn’t seem to stir.

“What an original idea for an artist!” said our engineer, who was poetically inclined, as he leaned back in his chair staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. “One can imagine a cross section of the boat showing our room at the North Sea’s yellowish sand bottom, to which all kinds of crawling and swimming animals give life. In here four feasting, happy officers around a little table on which a warm electric light is shining with the wine bottle in the center and with the glasses raised to a solemn toast. Above—water, water, water—water to the height of a church steeple and, over it all, the glittering heavens full of stars and a small silver-white piece of the moon. If I were a painter I should immediately start with this motive for a picture.”

“And give me the picture, I hope,” I laughed. “And, after all, not such a bad idea about that picture—one should in reality propose such a motive to an artist.”

“Maybe it would be possible to put in a couple of mermaids who look in through the conning tower window inquisitively and knock with their fingers on the glass,” said Petersen, our youngest lieutenant, with a smile. “That would undoubtedly make the picture still more attractive.”

GrÖning, who during the entire time had listened with a quiet smile to the conversation, took out his empty cigar holder, on which he always chewed when we were under water because, as a heavy smoker, he missed tobacco, as none of us was allowed to smoke inside the boat. Slowly he said with a touch of irony, in a deep, sympathetic voice:

“Here, my dear Petersen, you are an unreasonable rascal. If there are no women in the game, then there is no pleasure for you. Doesn’t the fellow actually talk about mermaids when he tells us every fourth week he is going to become engaged. ‘This time it’s absolutely certain! This time I surely will do it, as I will never find such a girl again.’ This and more I hear every month. What was the last one’s name that you intended to make happy—your March girl? Wait, I have it—the February girl—ha, ha, ha—has the captain heard the story of the February girl?”

He turned to me laughing.

“Will you shut up, GrÖning!” Petersen burst forth and blushed up to his ears. “I’ll tell you that if you tell tales out of school—and besides——”

“Well, Petersen,” I encouraged, “what ‘besides’?”

“Besides, all that is not true,” he continued and blushed still more when he noticed that he had betrayed himself. “You should certainly keep quiet,” he went on suddenly, beaming with an idea, and began to attack in order to lead the conversation away from himself. “He who lives in glass houses should be more careful.”

“I—I—I—how so—that’s the limit!” GrÖning angrily rejoined, as he considered it an honor to be known among his friends as a woman hater. “I—in a glass house? It’s a mean accusation, or have you been drinking too much wine, my dear boy?”

“Bah! only a glass,” answered the younger officer, defending himself. “It is ridiculous to claim anything like that.”

“Well, well, be friends now, sirs,” I said soothingly. “Don’t let’s quarrel down here at the bottom of the sea. I hereby decide that our younger officer is absolutely sober, but that, even so, he will not be allowed to let his April girl with her fishtail come in here, as a punishment, because he has jilted his February girl.”

With this decision both these fighting roosters (really the best friends in the world) had to be pleased, and the eternal discussion of Eve and her daughters, which had nearly made the ocean bottom shake under our feet, was ended.

Shortly after this we went to bed in our narrow bunks—for the first time undressed on the voyage—and soon enjoyed a sleep free from dreams.