The whole vessel quivered and thrilled under the increased pressure of the engines and made several leaps. She staggered about in the furious seas--but still seemed loath to leave the surface. Then she gave a jerk and her bows suddenly dipped and cut into the flood. She began to sink into the depths at an ever-increasing angle. The coming daylight vanished from the windows of the turret, the manometer in rapid succession showed 2--3--6--10 meters' depth. But the angle of the boat also began to increase.
We staggered about, leaned back, slipped off our feet. We then lost our footing entirely--for the floor of the Deutschland slanted sharply toward the front. I was just able to catch hold of the ocular or eye-piece of the periscope. Down in the central the men were hanging on to the hand-wheels of the diving rudder. A few terrible seconds passed thus.
We had not yet seized the full significance of this new situation when there came a severe shock. We were hurled to the floor and everything that was not fastened down went flying in all directions.
We found ourselves in the queerest attitudes--and stared into one another's faces. There was a grim silence for a moment, then First Officer Krapohl remarked dryly:
"Well, we seem to have arrived!"
This broke the ghastly tension.
We were all rather pale around the gills, but at once tried to get our bearings.
What had happened?
What had caused this unnatural inclination of the boat? And why were the engines above us raving at intervals in a way that made the whole boat roar from stem to stern?
Before any of us had arrived at any solution of the mystery, our Chief Engineer, little Klees, had jumped up from his crouching position, and, swift as lightning, had swept the engine-signal dial around to "Stop!"
And suddenly there was a deep silence.
We slowly assembled our proper legs and arms and thought hard over what had happened.
The vessel had slanted down toward the bows at an angle of about 36 degrees. She was standing, so to speak, on her head. Our bow was fast upon the bottom of the sea--our stern was still oscillating up and down like a mighty pendulum. The manometer showed a depth of about 15 meters.[2]
[Footnote 2: ©]
[Illustration: Permission of Scientific American.
Diagram of a German Submarine Mine-Layer Captured by British.]
However, the Deutschland finally worked herself free and soon was again on the surface. Luck must have been with her, for she had suffered no damage and, in spite of the mountains of water which she must have thrown up, the hostile destroyer had not discovered her. Once more she was off on her way.
So the days went by and before long the merchant submarine had passed, without having been detected, beyond the territory in which British patrol boats were operating. Then came a succession of uneventful days and fine weather. Practically every day diving tests were made. One of these the captain describes as follows:
During these experimental diving tests we were treated to a spectacle of fairy-like loveliness.
I had set the rudder in such a way that the turret was travelling about three yards under water. Overhead the sun shone brilliantly and filled the deeps with a clear radiance. The pure water was luminous with colour--close at hand it was of a light azure blue, of fabulous clearness and transparent as glass. I could see the entire boat from the turret windows. The shimmering pearls of the air-bubbles which rise constantly from the body of the craft played about the entire length of the vessel from deck to bows, and every detail stood out in miraculous sharpness. Farther ahead there was a multi-coloured twilight. It seemed as if the prow kept pushing itself noiselessly into a wall of opalescent green which parted, glistening, and grew to an ethereal, rainbow-like translucency close at hand.
We were spell-bound by this vision of beauty. The fairy-like effect was increased by medusć which, poised in the transparent blue, frequently became entangled in the wires of the mine-guards or the railings and glowed like trembling fires of rose, pale gold, and purple.[3]
[Footnote 3: ©]
But less pleasant things were in store for the Deutschland's crew. The nearer the boat came to the region of the Gulf Stream, the more violent the weather became. Though she still ran most of the time on the surface, it became necessary to keep all openings battened down. Even the manhole, leading to the turret, could be kept open only for short periods. Naturally the temperature was rising all the time. It was midsummer and the Gulf Stream contributed its share of warmth. No wonder, therefore, that Captain König compares conditions below decks to a "veritable hell," and then continues:
