Her manner was so straightforward and honest that I could not bring myself to
believe in her duplicity; yet—Thinking to surprise her into a betrayal of her
guilt, I blurted out: “The chronometer and sextant were both destroyed last
night; there is a traitor among us.” But she never turned a hair by way of
evidencing guilty knowledge of the catastrophe.
“Who could it have been?” she cried. “The Germans would be crazy to do it, for
their lives are as much at stake as ours.”
“Men are often glad to die for an ideal—an ideal of patriotism, perhaps,” I
replied; “and a willingness to martyr themselves includes a willingness to
sacrifice others, even those who love them. Women are much the same, except
that they will go even further than most men—they will sacrifice everything,
even honor, for love.”
I watched her face carefully as I spoke, and I thought that I detected a very
faint flush mounting her cheek. Seeing an opening and an advantage, I sought to
follow it up.
“Take von Schoenvorts, for instance,” I continued: “he would doubtless be glad
to die and take us all with him, could he prevent in no other way the falling
of his vessel into enemy hands. He would sacrifice anyone, even you; and if you
still love him, you might be his ready tool. Do you understand me?”
She looked at me in wide-eyed consternation for a moment, and then she went
very white and rose from her seat. “I do,” she replied, and turning her back
upon me, she walked quickly toward her room. I started to follow, for even
believing what I did, I was sorry that I had hurt her. I reached the door to
the crew’s room just behind her and in time to see von Schoenvorts lean forward
and whisper something to her as she passed; but she must have guessed that she
might be watched, for she passed on.
That afternoon it clouded over; the wind mounted to a gale, and the sea rose
until the craft was wallowing and rolling frightfully. Nearly everyone aboard
was sick; the air became foul and oppressive. For twenty-four hours I did not
leave my post in the conning tower, as both Olson and Bradley were sick.
Finally I found that I must get a little rest, and so I looked about for some
one to relieve me. Benson volunteered. He had not been sick, and assured me
that he was a former R.N. man and had been detailed for submarine duty for over
two years. I was glad that it was he, for I had considerable confidence in his
loyalty, and so it was with a feeling of security that I went below and lay
down.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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