To avoid collision in the fog, we had nothing to depend on but our eyes and ears, for naturally I dispensed with the use of the siren. On the decks there was absolute silence. Nothing was to be heard but the gurgle of the water at the bow, and the monotonous beat of the pistons, as we drove steadily through the fog at a good twelve knots. For two hours we ran like that, and then all at once a high, dark bulk loomed out of the fog right ahead, a bark under full sail. 'Hard a-starboard!' The wheel flew round at lightning speed. For a long moment it looked as if the manoeuvre would not succeed, for the _Aud_ answered but slowly to her helm. Fortunately, however, the sailing ship had also realised the situation and put her helm hard over, and we cleared each other in the end with fifty yards to spare. The bark was flying a red rag of bunting which must once have represented a Norwegian flag, and we gave our 'countrymen' a cheer as they went by. Towards evening we had made such good way that we could quite well pose as being outward bound from Christiania; and from now on we had to start keeping a Norwegian log-book, for that, too, might well be subjected to examination. There were two of these logs, one for the navigation and one for the engine-room. We had, therefore, starting from the present position of the ship, to calculate back and find out at what hour the _Aud_ left Christiania, and when and where we dropped pilot what's-his-name, and so forth. This information was entered under the appropriate headings. Our real course, positions, speeds, coal consumption, etc., would, of course, in the future be quite different from those which the Norwegian log-books had to show, and the 'cooking' of these logs became later quite a difficult task. It was my first introduction to the mysteries of 'Book-keeping by Double Entry.' FOOTNOTE: [4] It is interesting to note the admission from such a source that 'England's frontiers are the shores of the enemy'--or the nearest point thereto that is outside neutral waters. CHAPTER IX THE FIRST SIGN OF THE ENEMY Towards nine o'clock there set in, unfortunately, a marked change of weather. A light wind from the west gradually dispersed the fog, so that it soon became quite clear, with good visibility. The moon had already risen, but considerately remained hidden behind a cloud, so that the silhouette of our ship was not very distinct. Towards midnight, we reckoned, we should be abreast of Lindesnaes. Here we expected to find the coast most closely watched by the English, since all traffic, whether from north, east, or west, must pass this south-western corner of Norway. In order not to arouse unnecessary suspicion, I ordered the mast-head light and side-lights to be lighted. But before doing so, I had the lenses rubbed over with lampblack, so that the lights could scarcely have been visible a few ship's lengths away.