Slowly the boat moves slightly backwards, pulling at the tow-ropes in its backward movements like some primeval monster. A quick glance from the conning-tower over the trail of water and the pier walls. We have enough room to manoeuvre. The hawsers are cast off, and then both engines are set at half-speed with rudder to port. We turn once more to get well clear of the dock walls where a big grey battle cruiser is being finally equipped. Then I let the rudder lie amidships and order both engines "full steam ahead." The stern begins to tremble in rhythmical vibration under the increased engine-power, the churned-up water rushes foaming from her sides--the journey begins. Faster and faster the "Deutschland" pushes her way through the dirty waters of the harbour, out into the bay. Our course lies next through the Kaiser Wilhelm Canal to the Weser, where the shipment of the cargo will be completed. The ship's papers and express post are brought on board by the freighting officials in a special tug, and without any fuss, calmly and secretly the "Deutschland" starts on her remarkable voyage--the first submarine of the world, to whom blockades are unknown--out into the open sea, into the freedom of the ocean. CHAPTER III THE FIRST DAY AT SEA The North Sea rolls in long swells against us. The weather is clear and the wind blows sharply from N.N.W. I am standing alone with my first officer on duty on the conning-tower, in the "bath-tub," for thus we have nicknamed the strong shelter which is built round the conning-tower hatch of the "Deutschland," and which looks like a kind of flying gondola. In front of this is the upper steering station, which can, however, only be made use of in fine weather. To-day we stand in oilskins behind the shelter, for the sea is already quite rough enough to wet everything through. The deck is continually swamped, and every minute the waves break over the tower. I listen with the speaking-tube to the control-room in my hand, while the helmsman growls commands through the telegraph to the engine-room. A dull roar, the bow dips down, foaming, and the waves rush over the deck and dash high against the conning-tower. As quick as lightning we close the hatches and duck in our crackling oilskins behind the shelter ... this little game is repeated every five minutes. Between whiles we stand up, listening to the wind rattling in the stays of the masts, and look around us. For some time the German coast has faded from sight behind us in the S.E., and the accompanying torpedo-boat which travels in front of us is the last bit of the Homeland. Soon we approach the last line of German outposts; four look-out vessels pass by us in single file and signal us "Pleasant voyage."