On board the _Aud_ there was absolute silence. We were all busy with our own thoughts. And these were probably all the same. If luck would only come to our aid just this once! But it did not come. The weather showed no sign of changing before morning. The longed-for submarine, for all our anxious look-out, could not be seen. Whenever we looked towards the English we could see on each ship a couple of dark figures with glasses to their eyes keeping us steadily under observation. Thus we proceeded, mile after mile. Northwards, a long, dark strip, like a low-lying cloud-bank, was now visible; we were approaching the coast. Consequently, it was time we started to learn something about Queenstown Harbour; for if we were forced to sink the _Aud_ we ought at least to choose the spot where she would do most damage to the enemy. Unfortunately, when search was made for the proper chart, it turned out that we had special charts of African and American harbours--but none of Queenstown. Naturally, it never occurred to us when we were setting out that we should visit that harbour. 'Oh, damn this Quee-ee-eenstown,' growled the second mate, imitating the voice of the English officer, which was still echoing in our ears. The stout little fellow had not lost his sense of humour in spite of all our misfortunes. So we were forced to study the details of Queenstown Harbour on a general chart of Ireland. Unfortunately, this chart gave very few details. We discovered, however, that the average depth of the outer entrance to the harbour was twenty to twenty-five fathoms. This suited our purpose admirably. There was enough water to prevent the wreck being raised, and there was still the possibility that we might obstruct the channel if the _Aud_ came to rest in the right position. As dawn approached, the _Bluebell_ altered course, keeping closer to the coast, which, with its low chalk-cliffs, covered with rich green meadow, was now plainly visible. 'We can celebrate Easter Sunday there,' I heard a voice behind me say. It was Battermann, of course, the signalman of the grinning countenance. And sure enough it was the 22nd of April, and next day would be Easter Sunday! In the excitement of the last few days I had lost count of time. At sunrise the destroyers considered their task finished, for after a short exchange of signals with the leading ship they turned and steamed westwards. The warships patrolling these waters were now so numerous that the enemy judged us to be safe. Nevertheless, the _Bluebell_ (evidently fearing some stratagem on our part) thought it advisable to leave the head of the convoy and move to the rear, whence she could keep a better watch on us, nosing round us now on the starboard side, now on the port side, but always at a respectful distance.