CHAPTER XIII OFF THE ROCKALLS IN A HURRICANE

During the night the storm increased in violence. A sea which struck us broadside on laid the Aud on her beam-ends, flung every one on deck into the lee scuppers, and swept away everything movable.

Caution suggested lying to. But the date of my rendezvous now gave me only one day's margin, and the storm might last for days. There was nothing for it but to go ahead, and chance the cargo shifting—though the picture of those heavy cases in the half-empty hold breaking adrift and taking charge, was one that did not bear thinking about.

To reduce the violence of the continual battering on the vessel's sides, I gave orders to distribute oil upon the water, at the same time turning a couple of points south. This had the effect of reducing the roll and making the combers break before they reached the stern.

It was some relief when day at last dawned. At least we could see a short distance ahead, and that was our main need, for we were now heading straight for the Rockalls.

Of the one rock which ordinarily rose above the water, hardly anything was likely to be visible in such a sea, and we could only hope to recognise it by the surf, the columns of water shooting up into the air, and the clouds of seagulls which probably circled about it.

The weather grew wilder and wilder. Rain and hail showers swept at shorter and shorter intervals over mountainous seas, and made it difficult to see at all.

In order to leave nothing to chance, since eight o'clock in the morning I had had men heaving the lead, so that we might know the moment we reached the outer edge of the bank.

By dead-reckoning—there had been no possibility of taking an observation for three days past—we ought to sight the rock, bearing east, about two miles away, at about 1 p.m. Allowance had, of course, been made for drift and leeway.

10 a.m.: Nothing to be seen.

Eleven o'clock! Always the same picture. Nothing but wild, raging sea. But it almost looked as if the troughs of the waves were deeper, the breakers fiercer, like the seas over a shallow bottom. Were we already?... No one dared to say it; only the constant use of the binoculars showed that every one shared the same thought. But neither rock, nor surf, nor birds were to be seen.

Twelve o'clock was already past. Soon, we must be there. 'No bottom!' comes, with monotonous iteration, the shouted report from aft, where, under the direction of the first-officer, the sounding machine is in constant use. More than once the men were caught by a sea and flung against the rail. I shouted to them to hang on, and gave the order for more oil to be poured from the bow. All orders had to be given, or rather yelled, through the megaphone. The wind seemed to bite off the words as they came out of one's mouth.

Then, just in the midst of a fierce squall came a wild shout from aft, 'Bottom! sixty-three fathoms.'

'Reduce speed!' 'Sharp look-out!'

Every one knew what was now at stake. Fifty fathoms!—fifty-six—sixty-two—seventy—twenty-eight.' Damnation! what is one to make of such a series? In the special chart, which lay under a glass cover on the bridge, depths of seventy, sixty, fifty fathoms were marked promiscuously, with the comforting annotation that they were unreliable.

Alter course? But, which way? It was too late now to lie to, unless I wanted to risk being driven slowly but with inexorable certainty on the reefs.

Every course was as good, or bad, as every other, until we had once sighted the rock. The visibility was now from 800 to 1000 yards, and at need that might serve.

After a momentary hesitation I pulled myself together and determined to hold on.

'Breakers to starboard!' came a shout from the lower bridge, where some of the men were keeping a look-out.

'Hard a-port! Hard over!' Slowly and sluggishly the ship answered to her helm. The seconds grew to minutes. Shielding our faces against wind and water with our hands, we tried to discover where the breakers lay. But all that could be seen was one continuous welter of foam. The waves all round us, high as the side of a house, were breaking with a roar of thunder and shooting their spray high into the air. It was impossible to tell whether it was surf breaking on a reef, or only breaking seas.

Through this hell's brew the little Aud held gallantly on. We were now on an easterly course, and the seas, taking us on the port quarter, swept furiously over the after part of the ship. I tried the effect of increasing speed. It was no use. The only result was that the stern created so much suction that the seas poured over it more violently than before.

One moment we would think we heard breakers to port, the next to starboard, but always it proved to be an illusion. It was the same with the sunken reefs and sandbanks, which we imagined we saw from time to time; they were only dark patches and eddies in the water, due to the plunge of the breaking seas. All this, however, we could see only as if through a veil, for the storm-scourged masses of rain and spindrift blurred the whole surface of the sea.

Again and again, when the seas came charging down and leapt upon her, the little Aud lay over so far to starboard that we thought she would never get up again; and when, on the return roll, she met an oncoming sea, the port end of the bridge was often under water. Suddenly, some two hundred yards to starboard, two birds appeared, low down over the sea. Did that mean rocks?

'Port the helm!'... 'What in the name of Heaven's wrong now?'

'The compass!' shouts the quartermaster, hanging on to the spokes with a desperate grip, to keep the helm hard over. God in heaven! Is everything at once in league against us? In sober fact the compass seemed to have suddenly gone mad. The compass-card spun round like a teetotum, whirling faster and faster. It was only by the direction of the seas that we could tell that the ship's head was now slowly coming round to port. And the run of the seas was for the moment all we had to steer by, for the compass was utterly useless. It pointed one moment North, the next South-West, and absolutely refused to steady.

Meanwhile, from time to time the shouts of the leadsmen aft reached one's ear, but they were almost unintelligible. In the end they made shift to give us the soundings by signing with their fingers. But the depths were too uncertain to give us any help.

Now, however, more and more birds showed up to starboard—fifty, a hundred, whole flocks appeared and whirled wildly, with frightened screechings, through the air. There could no longer be any doubt. Yonder, a couple of cables southward, lay the rocks. We were on the very brink of destruction.

'Hard a-port! Quick, man, quick!' I shot the words out with all my strength and pointed to port with my hand, but no one understood a word. The hurricane was at its worst and the wind whistled and howled so that it was impossible to hear an order.

Fortunately, however, Mathiesen, good seaman that he was, had already put the helm over without waiting to be told. It was our only chance of clearing the reefs.

And now came the most anxious and perilous moments of the whole voyage. It seemed as though we had plunged into a seething, raging whirlpool, from which there could be no escape. The engines were now running at full speed. We had the seas right abeam, and they did what they liked with us, but that was the only course that offered the slightest chance of getting clear.

When I look back, it seems to me incomprehensible that we came out of that witches' cauldron almost unscathed. At the time, I would not have given five minutes' purchase for our lives. I let no hint appear in my bearing of how grave I thought the danger, but I could read on every face the same conviction of our imminent deadly peril.

As though we had not yet had enough of the nerve-racking game, there now swept down on us a fierce squall of hail. Veritable mountains of water reared themselves against us, seeming to overtop our masts. Like monsters opening gaping jaws to leap the next moment upon their prey, they raged against our little vessel, hurled themselves on her decks, and threatened to engulf her. The Aud shuddered and trembled in every timber. At every new assault it seemed as if something must give way.

Only with the utmost effort was it still possible to heave the lead. The leadsmen, with life-lines round them, stood in their streaming oilskins on the after-deck; and though thrown this way and that by the seas, they refused to leave their post, though I had signed to them to come forward.

'Thirty-three fathoms!' Then, at brief intervals, 'Twenty-eight fathoms!—twenty-three—eighteen—fifteen—twelve—eight.' Br-r-umm! A violent shock ran suddenly through the whole ship—masts, derricks, funnel, ventilators, deck-houses; in fact, the whole hull seemed to shake and quiver for several seconds.

Aground! That was my first thought. We looked at each other in dismay. The Aud seemed rooted to the spot. She scarcely even rolled, though one sea after another raced down upon her.

'No water making in the engine-room,' reported the chief engineer, who had rushed, panting, up the ladder. He, too, then, had the impression that we were aground. We put the helm over first to port and then to starboard. In vain. The ship showed not the slightest inclination to move from the spot. Suddenly I happened to glance aft, and saw in a moment the cause of the phenomenon.

A huge sea had 'come aboard green,' and sweeping pitilessly over the after part of the ship, had poured down on to the well-deck, flooding it to the bulwark-rail. The scuttles had jammed, the scuppers seemed also to be stopped up. The mass of water could find no vent, and its sheer weight had caused the inexplicable immobility of the ship.

The reason we had not seen it coming was that we had all been gazing over the starboard bow, where we knew the reef must lie. The wonder was that no one had been swept overboard.

It was several minutes before the ship would answer her helm again. But when she did, our spirits rose with a bound; for now, if we could only hold on upon a north-easterly course for a short time longer, we should be clear of the reefs for good and all. Fortunately, we had still several hours of daylight before us.

For two hours longer the Aud had to battle with the full fury of the storm. Again and again it seemed as if she must be overwhelmed. And always at the back of our minds there was the nightmare dread of the cargo shifting. Then, at last, the violence of the wind began to abate a little, and at the end of another hour the sea, too, had perceptibly moderated. The worst was over.

Also, we were in all probability clear of the danger zone, so that I could ease her by steaming at slow speed upon an easterly course. The compass, too, returned to its senses. Whether its vagaries were due to vibration set up by the shock of the seas, or to the influence of the magnetic iron in the reef—which is noted in the sailing-directions—we never knew.

By 5.30 that afternoon the lead had ceased to find bottom. We had cleared the eastern edge of the bank. I laid a course, for the present SSE. in order gradually to approach the steamer track on which, in my assumed character, it would be appropriate for me to be found.

CHAPTER XIV AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE

Towards evening the wind jumped round to NNW., and fell considerably. In the course of the night we sighted two more English ships of the auxiliary cruiser type, but neither of them took the slightest notice of us. Our luck in this respect began to seem a little uncanny. Could there be something behind it? Did the English know about our coming? In that case caution was doubly necessary, for if our plans had been betrayed, there would be no lack of patrolling craft on the Irish coast.

My orders tied me to a definite time of arrival. This was two days off. To arrive an hour too soon or too late might spoil everything, for no one would be expecting me. We measured off distances on the chart. There could be no doubt about it that if we continued steaming at our present pace we should make Tralee a day too soon—an eventuality which had appeared so improbable that none of those who planned our voyage had taken it into account.

With the intention of running in on the evening of the next day, as this would be the most favourable time for us, I steered south-east at reduced speed, intending to approach the steamer track. So far, of course, I had avoided it. While I was sketching out the plan of action for the next day, there came a knock at the door. 'Well, Battermann,' I said to the signalman, who entered, 'what is it? Surely not another of them?'

'Just what it is, captain. Another of these Englishmen. Three miles away on our starboard beam. We saw him just coming out of a squall.'

As I came on deck a long black steamer with narrow funnels was steaming down on us at full speed. The first-officer had meanwhile given the order for emergency stations, and was steaming, with the usual reduced speed, on an easterly course. We might thus be supposed to be coming from America.

'The "conjurer's box" is watertight,' came the report from below, and the usual 'bag of tricks' was hurriedly passed down. It was high time, for the Englishman was approaching us with alarming rapidity. He looked as if he meant to bite us, damn him!

'Down, Hector! Down, sir!' The dog was barking furiously on the forecastle head. They must have heard him clearly on the English ship, for we, on our part, could hear the ringing of their engine-room telegraph.

She stopped her engines scarcely five hundred yards away. Now for the prize crew, thought I. But as I had no desire for a closer acquaintance, I kept the Aud waddling quietly along at a 'speed'—if you can call it so—of five knots. We carried on meanwhile, as if the English ship was not there.

She was an old Oriental liner of some 6000 tons burden, and somehow I could not help thinking that I had seen her before. Suddenly I remembered. Of course, it was on that very promenade deck that I had spent a pleasant hour or two at a reception held on board her, in Fremantle, West Australia. What a contrast the deck presented then and now! Instead of the fair faces and gay summer frocks, which then made so pleasing a picture, some dozens of English bluejackets were crowded at the rail, watching us curiously, and where the comfortable liner deck-chairs had stood, a couple of grim-looking three-inch guns were turning their ugly muzzles on us.

Whether she perhaps expected us to wish her a polite good-morning, I do not know, but any way, instead of her old tattered scrap of bunting, she suddenly ran up a brand-new ensign. No doubt she wanted to impress us. However, we Norwegians were far too phlegmatic to worry ourselves about little things like that. And so everything remained just as it was before. No boat was lowered; no prize crew came on board.

And yet the auxiliary cruiser did appear to be taking an unwelcome interest in us. She came closer, took a good look at our starboard side, and crossed our stern once or twice. Then she lay to port of us with her engines stopped, but without making any signal. The gun crews meanwhile had disappeared.

It looked as though they intended to respect our 'neutrality,' and no wonder if it was a question of looks. As I kept quietly steaming ahead, the distance between us gradually increased. On the English ship all eyes were fixed on us as though we had been some kind of strange animal. Then we heard her engine-room telegraph bell, and a second time she came speeding towards us. This time she came up close on our port side and ... shot past and went foaming off to the eastward.

'That puts the lid on it,' muttered Düsselmann. 'Captain, let's make all speed for Tralee, and steam right in with colours flying. If they don't have a triumphal archway ready to welcome us, they're not the men I take them for.'

Certainly, anything seemed to be possible to these English.

If only, I thought to myself, there isn't something behind it. The business began to look queer.

Why did the English never ask us, as they were in duty bound to do, where we were from and where we were bound for? Why did they snuff round us on all sides as one dog does to another? Did they want to lull us into a false security? And yet, so far as I could see, a betrayal of our enterprise was absolutely out of the question.[10] I believed then, and have since confirmed my impression that they let us pass in all innocence. And that was a brilliant feat even for Englishmen.

CHAPTER XV PLANS AND DREAMS

As the barometer had come down with a run two days before, so now it went up with a run, till it stood in the neighbourhood of the two words that every seaman reads with satisfaction, 'Set Fair.'

The sun shone brilliantly, a light north-westerly breeze played on the water. The touch of spring, the contrast with our late experiences, brought us all into the highest spirits.

To-morrow the die would be cast, our fate decided. Why should we not be gay?

I held a council with my officers to discuss the plans for the next day. We decided to alter our appearance during the night, by carrying from the charthouse to the engine-room skylight a funnel-casing six feet high, made out of wood and canvas, and painted the same colour as the deck-houses. If any photographs had been taken of us, it would then not be easy to recognise us by them. I intended also, the next morning, to paint out the flags and the name on our side with black paint, and have the funnel and ventilators painted yellow. I had decided to proceed in under the Spanish flag. An appropriate funnel marking was looked up. Supposing that we had really been betrayed, or had been reported by an auxiliary cruiser, that would at least delay discovery.

If we got through unmolested, and the Irish were at the rendezvous punctually, the landing of arms must succeed. At this point we badly felt the want of W.T. apparatus. How useful it would have been if we could have got into communication with Tralee and asked 'if the coast was clear.'[11]

I had been concerned to read in the Berliner Zeitung just before leaving, that there had been violent disorders in Dublin, and that martial law had been proclaimed both over the city and the whole of the east coast.

Was that mere folly on the part of the Irish, or was it an astute move, designed to divert the attention of the English Government from the west coast? I had, unfortunately, had no chance to ask Casement about that. A remark I had once heard him let fall, now made me uneasy. What if the Irish had struck their blow prematurely and now the west coast too had been placed under martial law? That might quite possibly knock the bottom out of our plans.

We should have to wait and see how things developed. For the present my one concern was to carry out my orders—to be at the right place at the right time. As the plan had originated with the Irish, it seemed to me unthinkable that they should not have made all preparations for my reception. Since they would time the rendezvous by the English reckoning, I had the chronometer set to Greenwich mean time.

My plan for the next day was complete, and I could now turn to the further questions, how should I get away again, and what should I do afterwards? I had, at various times, given a good deal of thought to this part of the enterprise, and had a complete plan ready. It was open to me, of course, either to make for a neutral port, or to attempt to return to Germany; but the plan I had determined on was something of a more ambitious character than either of these. It was nothing more nor less than to embark on the career of a commerce raider.

My sole real armament consisted of a single machine-gun, which I had obtained permission to retain out of my cargo; but the reader must not begin to laugh too soon.

The whole plan was a gigantic bluff, but I had succeeded in convincing my at first incredulous chiefs of its feasibility. I intended, of course, to avoid the larger, faster, and in many cases armed vessels, and confine my attentions to the smaller fry, from, say, 3000 tons downwards.

I intended to mount four dummy 10.5 cm. guns, and I had procured before starting a supply of maroons. My plan was, when I fell in with a suitable quarry, to summon her to stop, training one of the dummy guns on her. If she hesitated I would fire a maroon, and it was ten to one that the absence of a splash would not be noticed. If she was still recalcitrant, the whistle of machine-gun bullets over her bridge would show that we were in earnest. In nine cases out of ten I believe that the bluff would have come off.

We had every facility on board, in the way of planking, paint, and canvas, for altering our appearance, say, from a well-decked to a flush-decked vessel, and we had an extensive outfit of national flags of all descriptions. There was no reason why we should not emulate, on a smaller scale, the exploits of the famous Möwe.

I determined now, on the eve of our Irish adventure, to take my men into my confidence regarding this further enterprise, and they responded with an enthusiasm which left nothing to be desired.

The day was not to pass without its moment of excitement. About 6 p.m. the look-out suddenly reported 'Submarine! Four points on the port bow.'

'Full speed ahead!' 'Zigzag course! Look out for the wake of the torpedo!'

We on the bridge had meanwhile sighted the dark object, moving about a foot above the water. English? or German? That was the question. To make certain I steered closer to it—1500, 1000, 800 yards. The next half minute must decide; and it decided! The supposed periscope was an empty preserved meat-tin, wandering at large over the waves.

The joke was hardly as funny to the look-out as to the rest of us; but, after all, it was better to see too much than too little, for we were close now to the steamer track, and not very far ahead lay the Irish coast.

CHAPTER XVI WE REACH OUR GOAL

It was Thursday, the 20th of April. A fresh, glorious morning. During the night the wind had died away. The air was still, and the broad, even undulations of a north-westerly swell made the only movement on the water.

During the night the false casing round the funnel had been completed.

In order to have everything ready for the landing when we reached Tralee Bay, the camouflage cargo had, of course, to be removed from above the munitions. This proved to be no light task, for the pit-props were rather green and consequently heavy, which delayed the unloading a good deal.

All hands had to turn to and open hatches, and throw the whole of the false cargo overboard. In half an hour's time the upper deck looked like a packing department at one of the big stores. Window-frames, door-frames, tin-ware, zinc buckets, tin baths, and the like were sent up in a steady stream from the hold and piled upon the deck. Boxes and straw went into the furnaces, the rest was heaved overboard. Before long our course was marked by a trail of flotsam and jetsam that stretched to the horizon.

With a vague instinct that it might come in useful, I retained on board a small quantity of the pit props—a precaution which was well repaid on the following day.

While we were at this work an armed motor-ship passed us within six miles, and gave us some anxious moments; but fortunately took no notice of us.

The noon observation made our position 52° N. 11° W.—a bare forty-five miles from Tralee. In about four hours we should have reached our goal.

I had, unfortunately, to give up my plan of proceeding in under the Spanish flag, for it had taken us longer than we calculated to jettison the cargo, and there was not time enough to make the metamorphosis.

What troubled me most was that it would be full-moon that night, and the bright moonlight might easily prove our undoing.

The noon eight-bells had just been struck when the engine-room telegraph rang for 'full speed ahead,' and the Aud pointed her nose for Tralee Bay.

The next two hours were occupied with the final preparations for the landing. There was still a mass of things to get done. Steam-winches and unloading tackle were made ready, the hatches uncovered, and in every hold the top cases were placed in the slings ready for immediate landing. I had a supply of pocket electric-lamps and tools for opening the cases put in small bags, so that they could be passed ashore at once, for, from the moment we got alongside, the unloading must go with a rush, in order to be finished before the English got wind of it.

If all went without a hitch, I hoped to have the ship emptied in seven to eight hours. If—that was the crux. It was, of course, quite possible that it might come to bloody hand-to-hand fighting before all was done.

There could be no doubt that the harbour authorities and perhaps also the military authorities, would come on board, as soon as we got in, to examine the ship and her papers. Their questions as to where we came from, and so forth, must be answered in such a way that they should have no desire to ask any more—that is to say, they must be rendered harmless; in case the Irish had not already provided for that.

It was clear that, even with the greatest caution, something might leak out about our sudden arrival, and suspicious nocturnal operations. Casement himself had told me that even in Tralee there were a good many people of English sympathies.

The town of Tralee lies about three miles from the harbour pier. The harbour proper, which is in a kind of outlying suburb, is called Fenit. Fenit is a small, insignificant harbour, which is connected with Tralee by a railway. This railway might be very awkward for us, for if an alarm was given in Fenit we should have to reckon on the arrival of the military within half an hour. For our main protection against them we should have to trust to the machine-guns which formed a portion of our cargo, packed in cases, ready for use. These must therefore be landed first of all.

The men to serve the machine-guns ought to be standing ready on the quay. I made sure once more that the explosives and incendiary bombs were ready, and the German naval ensign was at hand. To make assurance doubly sure, I had two additional masses of explosive placed in the forward part of the ship, so that, if need be, nothing of my ship should be left.

I then ordered, 'Hands wash and clean into No. 2's,' that is, to clean up, and put on uniform. Only our caps, which for the moment we could not put on, we hid where we could get at them easily. Over our uniform we pulled on our old Norwegian kit. Each man wore a dirk and pistol in his belt under his jacket.

Shortly after one o'clock the first signs of land appeared; long, low-lying, bluish cloud-banks on the horizon, which little by little assumed a definite form—the Irish coast!

There was not a ship in sight. I called up my men and gave them the last explanations. Hitherto they had known nothing definite, though, of course, they had long guessed that they were not bound for Libau. It was good to see their grim but well-pleased smiles when I told them that now it was up to us to make good, and every man must do his best.

I told them that even their uniforms might not save them from being shot if caught. They grinned knowingly, as much as to say, they've got to catch us first!

Splendid fellows! I knew that I could trust them.

I explained my plans to the last detail. Every man had his allotted task. The engineers, for instance, were told that they must be ready to pump out the water-tanks to lighten the ship and enable her to get up the shallow channel leading to Fenit.

As the last touch, the surgical dressings were served out, and the big medicine chest, with all necessary materials, was placed in the mess-room, and then I gave the order, 'Every man to his post.'

CHAPTER XVII TWENTY-FOUR HOURS IN TRALEE BAY

The coast lay before us in brilliant sunshine. High, bare mountains, seamed with clefts and gullies, with steep, overhanging cliffs, which assuredly have never been trodden by the foot of man. Only at the base of the cliffs, to a height of perhaps 150 yards above the water, we saw a few green patches of grass and low shrubs. What struck us particularly was the jagged, deeply indented ridges of the long ranges of mountains. Gradually the numerous islands and rocks that lay off the shore came into view. It was no very inviting picture. There are, in fact, few coasts more inhospitable and more dangerous from their numerous reefs than the Irish.

We sought persistently with our glasses for any sign of life; any house or lighthouse upon the coast. In vain. There was nothing to be seen but naked rocks. Here and there the coastline was a little withdrawn, so that we thought more than once 'this must be Tralee bay.' But there appeared on either side of it so many other similar openings between the high cliffs that we became confused. That was a decidedly unpleasant surprise.

Relying on my excellent noon observation, which could not be much out, I held on for some way farther. 'Steep shore, deep water,' is a pretty sound rule, so we could safely stand close in. With the chart and the sailing directions open before us, we searched for the entrance. In a quarter of an hour we had found it; having picked up the 'Three Sisters,' a small, three-pointed rock on the south side of the twelve-mile broad estuary of the Shannon. The coast here bends sharply, first to the north-east, then to the east, and then in a wide curve, back to the north-west again. The result is that, in approaching from the sea, one at first sees only a long stretch of coastline, while the bay lies concealed behind it.

I immediately altered course to pass close to the 'Three Sisters,' and from there get my bearings for negotiating the entrance. There is a signal station at Loop Head, on a small island on the north side of the estuary, and I wanted to give it as wide a berth as possible. During the war, this innocent little island might well have developed into a grim monster bristling with guns. Certainly the signal station would be under military control.

Just as we were getting a four-point bearing[12] of the 'Three Sisters,' there appeared over the water on our port bow a small triangular patch of gleaming white, that looked for all the world like a distant sail. Surely it must be the pilot cutter already on the look-out for us? I could have shouted for joy. A few minutes later, however, I made the unwelcome discovery that the supposed sail was assuming improbable dimensions, and it finally revealed itself as the actual island of Loop Head, which I had supposed to be farther north. The sun had played a trick on us, illuminating the western trapeze-shaped end of the island so brightly that it looked in the distance like a large white sail. Disappointment number one.

As soon as I recognised my mistake I altered course to starboard, from which direction there was, for the present, no danger to be apprehended, at least so far as we could see, for only naked rocks frowned down on us. Slowly we worked our way into the bay, anxiously scanning with our glasses every hill, cliff, and gully, but especially the surface of the water ahead. The current, which set strongly southward, tended to force us inshore, and necessitated constant small alterations of course. By 3.30 p.m. we had the 'Three Sisters' two miles on our starboard beam. Loop Head was now clearly visible. Except for the signal station and a few small buildings, nothing else was to be seen upon the island.

But—what was that to starboard? On a broad-topped cliff, some two hundred feet above the water, stood a high signal mast with wireless aerials. To right and left of it peered out half a dozen black muzzles from embrasures hewn in the edge of the rock. The nastiest jar of all was that these guns were bearing right on us, and that a number of English soldiers were getting busy about them, while others were observing us through glasses.

Damnation! I had not been reckoning on quite such a reception as this. I at once sent below all the men whose presence was not required on deck, and the oft-played comedy began once more.

Under the observation of the English field-glasses, which were now being directed on us at short range, it was highly important to appear as unconcerned as possible. Scarcely honouring the English with a glance, we tramped solemnly up and down the bridge, in the usual manner, six paces to starboard, and then, stolidly, six paces to port again—all the while pulling at our pipes and spitting to the wide in the most approved fashion. Meanwhile we steered slightly to the north, in order to get away as soon as possible from the neighbourhood of the coast-defence station.

When a quarter of an hour had elapsed, and the latter had done nothing to make itself objectionable in the way of shot or signal, we concluded that the danger was over for the moment. Only for the moment, of course. To-day it was likely to be a case of 'out of the frying-pan into the fire.'

Meanwhile, ahead of us, a little group of islands was gradually rising out of the water, while on the southern and eastern sides of the bay a number of wretched-looking fishermen's huts came into view—outlying houses of Fenit.

The nearest and largest of the islands was Inishtooskert, our rendezvous with Sir Roger Casement.

The die must soon be cast. With a keener anxiety than we had yet known, we directed our glasses ahead. If everything continued to go as well as it had done hitherto, then, at the latest, within half an hour the pilot-boat must make her appearance, with the recognition marks that had been agreed upon—a green flag at the mast-head and a man with a green jersey in the bows.

On our starboard hand, almost on the sky-line of the hills, a light-coloured building became visible, looking like an ancient castle, with a long flagpole on the tower. Whether the pole was connected with a wireless installation, we could not tell. The castle was screened from the north side of the bay by a high wall of rock, which soon hid it from us again.

We were drawing nearer and nearer to our goal. Now only a mile—now half a mile—and we should be there....

4.15 p.m. We were at the very spot—exactly a mile north-west of Inishtooskert, a long, low-lying island which was entirely uninhabited.

Now for it! With eager expectation we awaited the men who were to meet us here, and on whom it now depended whether our mission should be carried to a successful issue. For the last half hour we had had hanging from our bridge-rail the signal agreed upon with Casement.

Now with the naked eye, and now with our glasses, we scanned the surroundings. Nothing to be seen. Nothing moving in any direction. Not a boat on the water or any sign of life. The whole neighbourhood seemed to be dead. As there was no appreciable current here in the inner part of the bay, I lay to temporarily with the engines stopped.

When another ten minutes had elapsed and still nothing was to be seen, I began to feel a little uneasy.

A quarter of an hour went by, and from moment to moment our anxiety increased. We waited and waited with beating hearts, silently hoping that the next few seconds would see our wishes fulfilled. In vain. The stillness remained absolute.

Slowly the minutes slid away. The half-hour's grace agreed upon was nearly up. I got out my secret orders and read them through once more. There could be no doubt; I was at the right spot, and exactly at the right time. But where were the Irish?

My orders were, 'If, after half an hour's wait, none of the aforesaid vessels or persons are at the rendezvous, and there does not appear to be any possibility of communicating with them, you are to use your own judgment as to whether to proceed in or to turn back.'

The half-hour was up. I considered for a few moments what I should do.

Turn back? No. Under no circumstances would I give up the game, so long as any possibility remained of carrying out a landing. But how to carry it out? To run in in full daylight, without having established communication with Casement or any of his people would be foolish. I might just as well make the English a present of the munitions.

Another point was that the channel beside the pier was only six feet deep at low tide, so that, if I were obliged to blow up the ship to prevent her falling into the hands of the enemy, hardly half of her hull would be under water!

It looked, too, as if something had gone wrong. On the slopes of Kerry Head, the northern buttress of Tralee Bay, and in several other places, clouds of smoke were rising from the hills. Could these be warnings intended for us? But if so, where the deuce were the men who had lit them?

My whole crew had, in the meantime, gathered on deck, and as we were all taking the same risk, I had the whole ship's company up to the bridge to confer on the situation. To my delight none of them thought of turning back so long as there was any hope whatever of carrying out our mission. As we talked things over we came more and more to the conclusion that the English had got wind of our enterprise.

The absence of the Irish might, of course, have various grounds. It was quite possible that the wireless message announcing our coming had arrived in a mutilated condition, or that it had been badly deciphered, and that either for this or for the previous reason it had been obscure if not wholly unintelligible. It was also possible that the code-word which it had been agreed to insert in the German wireless news, just before the evening military communique, as a sign to the Irish[13] that our expedition had started, had been accidentally omitted, and the Irish had consequently thought that something had occurred to prevent our coming.

But it seemed to me on the whole, much more probable that the Irish of the west had not been content to look on idly at the activity of their brethren on the east coast, and had also themselves started disturbances, which had led to the proclamation of martial law on the west coast also. As I have mentioned earlier, this had been suggested to me by a paragraph in the papers before I left Berlin.

If the Irish had really committed this folly, my task would be rendered immensely more difficult, if not impossible, for it might be taken as certain that a number of the Sinn Feiners concerned would be already under arrest, and that the English would at least have got wind of our intended landing. That might account for the sudden appearance of the battery which we had passed shortly before.

But where was Casement all this time? Was he already in Ireland, and perhaps already arrested, or was he still on a submarine which had not yet arrived? Here, too, there were all kinds of possibilities. The submarine might have had an accident and turned back; or bad weather, or engine trouble, might have delayed the voyage. Again, it was not impossible that the submarine with Casement on board had already been here, and after finding how the land lay had gone back some distance to meet us—perhaps to warn us. In the latter case it might be assumed that towards evening the submarine would again return to the rendezvous.

There were certainly possibilities enough to keep one guessing, but I felt pretty sure that the Irish in the west had broken out prematurely, and the English, in consequence, had taken measures to deal with our plan, as well as with the Irish rising.

Assuming, then, as the most probable hypothesis, that the principal leaders including, perhaps, Casement himself, had been arrested, but that those who remained would make an effort to carry out the plan as best they could. It seemed most likely that they would wait for nightfall before attempting to communicate with me.

I had abandoned the idea of leaving the bay again, and returning after dark, as being too suspicious a manœuvre. On the other hand, to continue to lie here indefinitely would also be likely to awaken suspicion. I therefore decided to explore the inner part of the bay.

At half-speed I headed for the shore between Fenit and Kerry Head. While working slowly round the north point of Inishtooskert, some of the smaller islands lying behind it came into view. Some of these seemed to be inhabited, but none of the inhabitants were to be seen. We could now see also the first signs of Fenit, a little pier with a lighthouse. Behind it rose the masts of one or two small sailing vessels, and to one side a congeries of brick buildings—the 'town.' The whole thing had a depressing look. The only imposing feature in the picture was the ring of high, bare hills which surrounded the bay. Nothing whatever to attract our interest—Stay, what was that? Was not there a man standing on the pier? There certainly was! At the base of the flagstaff, from which hung the folds of the English ensign, there tramped to and fro at the usual mechanical sentry-go, an unmistakable Tommy with his rifle over his shoulder. Here, too, then, the military were in occupation. Evidently everything was prepared for our coming.

In striking contrast to his warlike exterior, was the absolute lack of intelligence in the sentry, who seemed to take no notice whatever of us, though we were now lying, as large as life, only a few hundred yards before him.

We looked in vain for further soldiers, or any indication of the proximity of a large military force. Did they want to lure us into a trap?

The pier was now so close to us that with the glasses we could make out every object upon it; so, of course, everything on board could be equally clearly seen, if any one was watching us. I therefore turned gradually away towards the north, to have a look at the flat coast below Kerry Head. Perhaps I might there find an opportunity to get in touch with the Sinn Feiners.

After we had steamed all round the upper part of the bay, however, all hope of this kind had to be abandoned. Though we showed our signals more and more boldly as time went on, no one took the slightest notice of us.

The situation became more and more extraordinary. For two solid hours we had been cruising about in the bay, it was beginning to grow dusk, and there had not been the slightest sign from the land. The fact that no one had taken the slightest notice of our presence, or of our peculiar behaviour, confirmed me more and more in the theory that there was some kind of a concealed trap. Neither I nor any of my men found it possible to believe that the English really took us for a harmless trader, as afterwards proved to be the case. Such carelessness was so utterly contrary to our German ideas of duty and discipline that we supposed this possibility to be entirely excluded.

We were therefore glad when night fell and darkness shielded us from inquisitive glances. Instead of flags we now used a green light, which we showed at short intervals both towards land and sea. Hour after hour passed and nothing happened. Darkness reigned everywhere, even in the town. Only on the pier there burned a small green light—the pier-head light intended to show incoming vessels the entrance to the harbour. From time to time we imagined we saw a signal light in one of the houses to the south-east; but always the glasses showed that we were mistaken.

As midnight drew near, it became noticeably brighter—no wonder, for towards one o'clock the moon would rise. I once more approached the pier, this time within six hundred yards, and at the risk of discovery showed my green light once again. Then, when this last attempt proved fruitless, I steamed slowly back to the rendezvous off Inishtooskert.

Cautiously we felt our way along the cliffs to the anchorage. So still was the night that even on the forecastle the stroke of our propeller-blades could be clearly heard. It must have been an hour and a half after midnight when the anchor rattled down into the depths and we brought up in the shadow of Inishtooskert, in what seemed to us a hiding-place well screened in every direction. If the sentry on the pier was not asleep, he must, no doubt, have heard the rattle of the anchor chain. But nothing happened.

The moon had meanwhile risen, but as we lay close under the west side of the island we could count on being in deep shadow till close on the dawn.

Hour after hour passed, and as morning approached my hope that the Irish would manage to communicate with us during the night gradually faded away. When at last day dawned, I gave up the game for lost. Useless to run boldly alongside Fenit Pier, for who could suppose we should be allowed to unload our munitions unmolested; useless to pretend an accident to the machinery, for at once we should have a swarm of officials on board; impracticable to send men ashore in a boat at some outlying spot to make inquiries, for I could not spare a man, in view of future eventualities.

And yet I hated to turn back. The one thing that gave me some small consolation was to find that all my men were equally unwilling to do so.

Well, but, if we stay, how long will they let us lie here? We had not long to wait for an answer. I was just discussing the question with my second, when suddenly we were startled by a shout from the look-out man: 'Steamer on the starboard bow.'... 'The pilot steamer!'

With all our thoughts concentrated for so long on the coming of the pilot, it was small wonder if, electrified by this shout, we leapt to the conclusion that the small steamer which was now rounding Kerry Head was actually bringing the pilot to us. I myself sprang to the signal halliards prepared to hoist our recognition signal; but as I did so, I kept an eye fixed on the steamer, which was heading straight for us. That was fortunate, for in the next few moments she ran up, not the Irish pilot flag, but the British naval ensign.

I personally did not hesitate a moment, but took to flight, that is to say, in accordance with an arrangement made for such cases, I faded away to my cabin, leaving it to the mate, Düsselmann, to stage the comedy which was now to open. All but a few of the men had also disappeared. Behind the curtain of my window I could watch comfortably the further development of events. A loud-voiced objurgation addressed to some of the men, and the heavy steps passing to and fro over my cabin told me that Düsselmann had already taken up his rôle. I looked at my watch. It was shortly after 5 a.m.

The first thing that struck me about the steamer was that she seemed to be in no hurry, and that the men on deck seemed to be still half asleep; the second, that the life-boats which hung at each side of her deck were dummies in painted metal, between which was concealed a quick-firing gun—a real live outpost-boat, therefore. On both sides of the bow flaunted in large lettering the name Shatter II.[14] Her officers did not appear to be distinguished for smartness and resolution, for they stopped their engines while still at a very discreet distance from us, and gathered in a group with their heads together, frequently pointing in our direction—evidently holding a council of war. That lasted about five minutes, then they got under way again, and circled two or three times round our ship, taking care not to come too near. They seemed somehow to show a lack of confidence in us. After a while they stopped again, and I saw them examining us through their glasses.

Before leaving the bridge I had hurriedly given an order to get the hatches closed down as rapidly as possible. The time had been too short, however, to complete the work. In answer to a question through the voice-pipe, the officer of the watch informed me that only hatchway No. 2, which was right under the bridge, had been hastily covered. That was a serious matter, for almost the whole business was plain to be seen by our English friends if they cared to look. On the port side, forward, there were even a few cases of munitions, with inscriptions such as '1000 English cartridges,' '2000 Russian cartridges,' standing on deck, where they had been brought up ready to be landed promptly.

On board the Shatter weighty consultations seemed to be the order of the day, for it was nearly a quarter of an hour longer before she found courage, after cruising round us yet once more, to come alongside at about twenty yards distance. Then I saw a uniformed figure with megaphone in hand preparing to begin a conversation with my officer of the watch. This was apparently the commanding officer of the proud warship. I inferred this from the fact that he ordered several of his men, armed with rifles and pistols, to take up their posts near him, in order, no doubt, to season the conversation, if need be, with a little peppering of shot. This rather reassured me; especially when I took a second look at the 'commanding officer.' An undersized, stocky figure, with a typical whisky-drinker's face, the colour of which was scarcely distinguishable from the red scarf which he wore round his neck. I had at once the feeling that things were going to be rather amusing. And so, in fact, it turned out.