"There's nothing like being firm with these brutes, von Loringhoven," he said in a loud voice, as if to impress the fact upon the three seamen. "Take my advice: come down on them like Thor's hammer the moment you see them giving signs of discontent. How many men have been placed in the report this trip?" "Eleven, Herr Kapitan," replied the unter-leutnant, smacking his lips with relish. "A third of the ship's company." "That shows good discipline, Eitel," rejoined von Preugfeld. "Cast-iron discipline--that's the secret of efficiency." He made his way to the conning-tower and spent some moments poring over a chart of the centre portion of the North Sea. There were mine-fields in profusion. Those laid by the British were shown in blue, those of German origin were indicated in red. On paper they looked formidable, but unfortunately for von Preugfeld there were hundreds of others either drifting or else uncharted. He, too, cursed the wireless order that was responsible for U 274 making for Ostend. Having checked the course and given further instructions to the quartermaster, von Preugfeld strolled aft, took a leisurely survey of the horizon and, finding nothing in the shape of a vessel, settled himself once more in his deck-chair. Meanwhile 'tween decks discontent was seething. The men, disheartened and hungry, were aghast at the idea of making for the Belgian coast. Many of them were undergoing punishment for various slight offences. Krauss, one of the more advanced agitators, was holding forth upon the purposeless brutality of the kapitan. Just then von Loringhoven made his way for'ard. Possibly by accident, one of the group of malcontents lurched against him, for the submarine was rolling in the sullen swell. "Pardon, Herr Offizier!" exclaimed the man. It was Furst, slow of action yet quick to take offence. The next instant von Loringhoven raised his clenched fist and struck the man heavily in the face. It was the unter-leutnant's idea of imparting discipline with an iron hand according to the advice given by Kapitan von Preugfeld. Von Loringhoven had struck his men before. He had seen them stand rigidly at attention, meekly bearing blows as becomes a military or naval subject of the Kaiser. He expected Furst to do likewise, but to his unbounded astonishment the German bluejacket planted a staggering blow right in the centre of the unter-leutnant's chest. Von Loringhoven reeled and fell heavily against a large air-flask. There he lay breathless and unable to utter a sound. For a few moments the men were dumfounded. Oft-times they had formed mental pictures of striking their officers to the deck. Now the idea had become a reality. "You'll be shot for this, Hans Furst," exclaimed one of the men. "Perhaps," replied Furst. "And all of you with me. I struck the pig, I admit, but you were standing by and did not stop me. So that's mutiny."