"May I go to the engine-room, Herr Captain-Lieutenant?" It was not permissible for him to leave his diving station, the "Centrale," which is situated in the center of the boat, without special permission. "Yes, Herr Engineer, go ahead down and fire up hard!" I replied. The thumping of the heavy oil-motors became stronger, swelled higher and higher, and, at last, became a long drawn out roar, and entirely drowned the sound of the occasional jolts which always were distinctly discernible when going at slower speed. One truly felt how the boat exerted its strength to the utmost and did everything within its power. We had put ourselves on another course which put the anxiously signaling Britishers obliquely aport of our stern, and rushed with the highest speed for about ten minutes until their lights became smaller and weaker. We then turned point by point into our former course, and thus slipped by in a large half circle around the hostile ships. "Just as a cat around a bowl of hot oatmeal," said Lieutenant Petersen. "No, my dear friend," I said laughingly, "it does not entirely coincide. The cat always comes back, but the oatmeal is too hot for us in this case. Or do you think that I intend to circle around those two rascals for hours?" "Preferably not, Herr Captain-Lieutenant. It could end badly!" "Both engines in highest speed forward, let the crew leave the diving stations, place the guards!" I ordered.[4] * * * * * It was three minutes after six o'clock, and within about half an hour the sun would rise, but the sea and the sky still floated together in the colorless drab of early dawn and permitted one only to imagine, not see, that partition wall, the horizon. Unceasingly our binoculars pierced the gray dusk of daybreak. Suddenly a shiver went through my body when--only a second immovable and in intense suspense--a dark shadow within range of the spy-glass made me jump. The shadow grew and became larger, like a giant on the horizon--one mast; one, two, three, four funnels--a destroyer. A quick command--I leap down into the tower. The water rushes into the diving tanks. The conning tower covers slam tight behind me--and the agony which follows tries our patience, while we count seconds with watches in hand until the tanks are filled, and the boat slips below the sea. Never in my life did a second seem so long to me. The destroyer, which is not more than two thousand meters distant from us, has, of course, seen us, and is speeding for us as fast as her forty thousand horse power can drive her. From the guns mounted on her bow flash one shot after another aimed to destroy us.