In the end the Britisher began to get on my nerves. I considered whether it would be advisable to signal to him with the Morse lamp, asking for our exact position. Somehow or other I must find out what he wanted with us. By pretending that, owing to the fog, we had been unable to get our exact position for a long time, I might perhaps be able to break through his reserve. Then, suddenly, we saw the Britisher increase his speed, shoot ahead of us for about three hundred yards, and then, putting her helm hard over, swing across our bows and take a SSE. course. Oho! thought we, now something's going to happen. But the Britisher had no idea of coming to close quarters with us. Farther and farther he drew away from us in a southerly direction. Soon he had faded into the fog so completely that all we could see of him was a formless dark blur. We could hardly trust our eyes. But when shortly afterwards even the dark blur disappeared and nothing was to be seen but fog, and yet more fog, a joyful exclamation broke from us all. 'We're safely through!' It was now a question of putting our best foot forward and making ourselves scarce. Once more the engine-room telegraph rang 'Full speed ahead!' the lights were once more extinguished, and at the best speed we could make, we steamed north-west. 'My belief is,' said Düsselmann, with a grin, 'the fellow was honestly sorry for us. I'll bet he said to himself, "Hope the old tub will make her next port safely anyhow!"' It was a possible explanation. He had been guilty of an unpardonable error; but no one had better reason to pardon him than we. It was eight o'clock when he left us, after keeping us company for exactly an hour. What we had now to do was to get ourselves as quickly as possible out of the neighbourhood of the cruiser line. There was a possibility, too, of pursuit by fast destroyers, for our cruiser might later become aware of his stupidity. During the next hour, too, we had to reckon with a possible encounter with an auxiliary cruiser a little out of her course, for in fog it is no easy matter to keep station, with wind, sea, and current all playing tricks with one--as I knew only too well from my outpost service. It was only three hours later, when nothing had happened in the meantime, that I ventured to steer a westerly course again. We were now in the North Atlantic--a long stage nearer our goal. Towards midnight it was blowing so hard that we had to lash down everything movable on deck to prevent the seas that came aboard us doing any damage. On both sides of the deck I had life-lines stretched to hold on to. The wind had meantime veered round to the west, and later on to north-west. The fog had disappeared. Showers of rain swept over us at constantly shorter intervals. The barometer was falling with notable rapidity. These were sure signs of the approach of a north-wester.