Wiener died two hours ago. I should say the immediate cause of death was shock and loss of blood. I did my best.
* * * * *
We have been out on this extended patrol area seven days, but not a wisp of smoke greets our eyes.
Nothing but sea, sea, sea. Oh, how monotonous it is! I cannot make out where the shipping has got to. Tomorrow I am going to close the North Cape again. I think everything must be going inside me. I am too far out here.
* * * * *
The North Cape bears due east. Nothing afloat in sight. Where the devil can all the shipping be? In ten days' time I am due to meet my supply ship; meanwhile I think I'll have to take another cast out, of three hundred miles or so.
* * * * *
Nothing in sight, nothing, nothing.
The barometer falling fast and we are in for a gale. I have decided to make the coast again, as I don't want to fail to turn up punctually at the rendezvous.
* * * * *
In the Standarak–Landholm Fjord—thank heavens.
Heavens! we have had a time. We were still two hundred and fifty miles from the coast when we were caught by the gale. And a gale up here is a gale, and no second thoughts about it. To say it blew with the force of ten thousand devils is to understate the case. The sea came on to us in huge foaming rollers like waves of attacking infantry intent on overwhelming us.
We struggled east at about three knots. But she stuck it magnificently. Low scudding clouds obscured the sky and came like a procession of ghosts from the north–east. Sun observations were impossible for two reasons. Firstly, no one could get on deck; secondly, there was no visible sun. This lasted for three days, at the end of which time we had only the vaguest idea as to where we were.
The gale then blew out, but, contrary to all expectations, was succeeded by a most abominable fog, thick and white like cotton–wool. These were hardly ideal conditions under which to close a rocky and unknown coast, but it had to be done. The trouble was that it was entirely useless taking soundings, as the twenty–metre depth–line on the chart went right up to the land. We crept slowly eastwards, till, when by dead reckoning we were ten miles inside the coast, the Navigator accidentally leant on the whistle lever; this action on his part probably saved the ship, as an immediate echo answered the blast. In an instant we were going full–speed astern. We altered course sixteen points and proceeded ten miles westerly, where we lay on and off the coast all night, cursing the fog.
Next day it lifted, and we spent the whole time trying to find the entrance to the S. Landholm Fjord. The coast appeared to bear no resemblance to the chart whatsoever.
The cliffs stand up to a height of several hundred metres, with occasional clefts where a stream runs down. There are no trees, houses, animals, or any signs of life, except sea birds, of which there are myriads. The Engineer declares he saw a reindeer, but five other people on deck failed to see any signs of the beast.
After hours of nosing about, during which my heart was in my mouth, as I quite expected to fetch up on a pinnacle rock, items which are officially described in the Handbook as being "very numerous," we rounded a bluff and got into a place which seems to answer the description of S. Landholm. At any rate, it is a snug anchorage, and here I intend to remain for a few days, and hope for my store–ship to turn up.
I've posted a daylight look–out on top of the bluff; it would be very awkward to be caught unawares in this place, which is only about 150 metres wide in places.
I'm taking advantage of the rest to give the crew some exercises and execute various minor repairs to the Diesels.
* * * * *
Yesterday we fought what must be one of the most remarkable single–ship actions of the war.
At 9 a.m. the look–out on the cliffs reported smoke to the northward.
I got the anchor up and made ready to push off, but still kept the look–out ashore. At 9.30 he reported a destroyer in sight, which seemed serious if she chose to look into my particular nook.
At any rate, I thought, I wouldn't be caught like a rat, so I got my look–out on board—a matter of ten minutes—and then proceeded out, trimmed down and ready for diving.
