Cheers and hand-waving from the vessels soon showed us our happy mistake; they were a party of American Press representatives who, together with a number of admirers and friends of the "Deutschland," had refused to miss the opportunity afforded by a night voyage of giving our boat a farewell greeting at a distance of some fifty miles from Baltimore. One steamer after the other glided by, and the next morning by six o'clock we were in sufficiently free water to make our first submerging test. I wanted to get the boat and crew firmly in hand again after our prolonged stay on land--purely on account of the "dead certainty" of that "catch." We therefore made our first trial, and everything went swimmingly. The "Timmins" stood by and Captain Hinsch told me later that it was a marvellous sight as the "Deutschland" dived in perfect silence, only to reappear again a few minutes later like a flash, her bow foaming, above the water. The submersion worked perfectly likewise. After this, in order to see if everything was in working order, I gave the command for the boat to come to rest on the bottom at a spot which, according to the map, should have had a depth of 16½ fathoms. Once more all is still. The daylight fades; the well-known singing and seething of the submersion valves sounds in our ears. The gauge in the conning-tower registers 11 fathoms, 13 fathoms; the power is lessened; 16½ fathoms appears, and I await the gentle impact with which the boat shall touch on the ground.... Nothing of the kind happens. Instead of this the hand moves round on its dial to 17½, 18, 19 fathoms. I tap my finger on the glass--quite all right, the hand is just turning to 20. "What in the name of fortune's the matter?" I think to myself, and take up the map. Yes, 16½ fathoms are marked there and we had taken exact bearings up above.... Nevertheless, we continue to sink. Twenty-two fathoms are registered on the dial plate. This is too absurd. I call down to the control-room and receive the comforting reply that on their big depth gauge also, 22 fathoms have been registered and passed. Our gauges coincide therefore. This, however, does not prevent the boat from sinking. The men in the control-room look at each other.... It is a ridiculous situation, to be sinking in this confounded silence into the Unknown and not to be able to see anything but the everlasting backward jerking of that treacherous hand on the white dial.... In the conning-tower it is no different. I glance distractedly backwards and forwards from the map to the gauge. Meanwhile the boat sinks deeper and deeper; 24 fathoms have gone by.... The hand is moving towards 27.... I am just thinking that the deeps of Chesapeake Bay must come to an end somewhere, and that we can hardly be sinking into groundlessness ... when suddenly, without the least shock, the boat comes to a halt at a depth of 27½ fathoms.