First I searched the horizon with the aid of the periscope. Then I opened the hatch of the conning-tower, which was still half submerged, in order to get a look round with the glasses. The air was clear. In the south the moon had risen, making the dusky light of the summer night even more transparent. But as far as the eye could see the sea was empty, no steamer was in sight. The "Deutschland" could continue her way unlighted, and besides our huge delight over the disappointment of the crafty trap-layer, I had now the certainty that we could see all vessels before they could see us. And that was no small matter. CHAPTER V A SOMERSAULT IN THE NORTH SEA That night, during the darkest hours between eleven and one o'clock, I had decided to travel submerged with the electric engines. When we submerged in the twilight of the long summer night there had been very little wind, but there was a heavy swell--a sure sign that the wind would rise to a storm within a few hours. Towards two o'clock I gave the order to rise to the surface, and soon noticed from the increasingly wild movements of the boat that the storm had arisen, and that a rougher sea must have set in with it. At times we made regular springs, but continued steadily blowing out from our tanks and came to the surface in good order. From the lower end of the periscope I tried to get my bearings. It was, however, almost impossible to see anything, as the periscope was continually enveloped by the heavy breakers, the dim light causing the huge waves to assume monstrous and uncanny proportions. Now we had risen entirely to the surface, and I climbed into the conning-tower to get a proper outlook over the wildly dancing sea. It had become pleasant weather indeed! In the pale dim light was visible a seething witch's cauldron of tossing, mountainous waves crowned with foam, from which the wind tore away the spray and hurtled it through the air. The boat struggled heavily against it and made little headway. The entire deck was, of course, flooded, and every moment the sea dashed up over the conning-tower and fell over me in showers of spray. I clung on to the parapet of the "bath-tank" and scanned the horizon--a strange outlook, one continually shifting scene of mountainous rollers. I was just about to give the order to start the oil engines working when--what is that over there? That dark streak yonder--surely it is a line of smoke?... Then the back of a wave blots it out for a moment from the pale grey sky.... I wait, staring through the glass till my eyes ache.... There it is again, a dark line of smoke ... and there, there: a masthead, thin as a needle, yet I can see it through my glasses; and now ... my eyes are boring their way through the glasses ... that black thing over there just visible in the valley of the waves ... the smoke above it, four low funnels.... Good heavens! it is a destroyer!... With one bound I spring into the conning-tower, close the hatch: "Alarm!"