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.