Our giant merchant submarine, the _Deutschland_, was on her way home from her famous transatlantic cruise to America. In an attempt to cut her off, the British had set a double watch. So the _Seeadler_ would have to slip past twice as many cruisers and destroyers as otherwise. I still hoped that, if only detained a day or so, we might yet be able to slip across the North Sea ahead of the _Maleta_. But we lay there for three and a half weeks, and the sad news came that the real _Maleta_ had sailed and passed through the blockade. If we now attempted to use her name and a search party boarded us, the jig would be up. So we hurriedly examined Lloyd's Register in the hope of finding another Norwegian ship that might correspond to us. We picked out one called the _Carmoe_. We had no idea where she was, but hoped she might be in some distant port unbeknown to the wary British. It was a long chance, but we could think of nothing better. Now we had to change our ship from the _Maleta_ to the Carmoe. Painting out one name and substituting another was easy enough, but changing all our ship's papers was far more difficult. But with much use of chemical eraser we finally accomplished it, and we had papers that would pass if the visibility was not too bright during the search. Then, when we were all set again, we picked up a copy of a Norwegian commercial paper and found that the real Carmoe had just been seized by the British and taken to Kirkwall for examination. "By Joe, and they said this _Pass of Balmaha_ was a lucky ship! We must have a Jonah on board!" Now, if you haven't any luck, you must go and get some! All you have to do is know how to do that, and you will be a great success at sea, or anywhere! So away with Lloyd's Register! Let's take life's register and name our sea eagle after the girl of my heart. Surely she will bring us luck. So, out with the paint and on with another new name--the name of my sweetheart, _Irma_. In that name was concentrated most of the beauty that I had found in life. It symbolized strange moments of beauty that had crossed my path during the most trying days I had so far known. It seemed to be a lovely silken thread that had run through the years since that first voyage, when as a miserable cabin boy I sailed to Australia on that Russian tramp. Of course, there was no such name as _Irma_ listed with Lloyd's, and all any British officer would have to do would be to consult his Register and the jig would be up. But somehow I had a premonition that the name _Irma_ would bring us through. When we applied eraser and ink to our shipping papers and wrote in the name of _Irma_--disaster. Two erasures were too much. The ink blotted. If we should be stupid enough to take the British for fools, then we ourselves would be the real fools. Where was our luck now? Fate seemed to be against us, but I had no intention of giving up. Calling the carpenter I said: