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water, but none came. Instead we continued to submerge until the manometer
registered forty feet and then I knew that we were safe. Safe! I almost smiled. I
had relieved Olson, who had remained in the tower at my direction, having been a
member of one of the early British submarine crews, and therefore having some
knowledge of the business. Bradley was at my side. He looked at me quizzically.
"What the devil are we to do?" he asked. "The merchantman will flee us; the war-
vessel will destroy us; neither will believe our colors or give us a chance to
explain. We will meet even a worse reception if we go nosing around a British
port--mines, nets and all of it. We can't do it."
"Let's try it again when this fellow has lost the scent," I urged. "There must come
a ship that will believe us."
And try it again we did, only to be almost rammed by a huge freighter. Later we
were fired upon by a destroyer, and two merchantmen turned and fled at our
approach. For two days we cruised up and down the Channel trying to tell some
one, who would listen, that we were friends; but no one would listen. After our
encounter with the first warship I had given instructions that a wireless message
be sent out explaining our predicament; but to my chagrin I discovered that both
sending and receiving instruments had disappeared.
"There is only one place you can go," von Schoenvorts sent word to me, "and that
is Kiel. You can't land anywhere else in these waters. If you wish, I will take you
there, and I can promise that you will be treated well."
"There is another place we can go," I sent back my reply, "and we will before we'll
go to Germany. That place is hell."
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