The weather increases in severity. The officers
are lashed to the bridge. There they must stay; while the boat plies the
surface the bridge must not be left by the commander and his assistant.
Sometimes they remain thus on duty two and three days. Food is carried
to them and they eat it as they stand.
It may be that the commander is trying to balance a plate of heavy
German soup in his hand as a cry comes from a lookout.
"Smoke on the horizon, off the port bow, sir."
The commander withdraws from his food, shouts an order and an electric
alarm sounds inside the hull. The ship buzzes with activity. The guns on
deck are hastily housed. Bridge appurtenances are housed also, and
sailors dive down through the deck-holes. The commander follows. Water
begins to gurgle into the ballast-tanks while the crew seal every
opening. Down goes the U-47-1/2 until only her periscope shows, a
periscope painted sea-green and white--camouflaged. The eyes of the
watch-officer are glued to the periscope.
"She is a Dutchman, sir," he says at length. The commander steps to the
periscope and takes a look. The Dutchman has no wireless and is bound
for some continental port. It is not wise to sink every Dutch boat one
meets--although German submarines have sunk a sufficient number of them,
in all conscience. At all events, the steamship goes in peace and the
submarine comes to the surface. The commander is glad, because electric
power must be used when the vessel is moving under water and there must
be no waste of this essential element.
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