thanked by an old
American, to whom I personally had done a small favor, for my
courteous treatment; he spoke in the name of all the passengers who
had experienced also the greatest civility at the hands of the port
authorities. I declined these words of thanks, for they had only
received the treatment that was their proper due.

After the train had left, the hour of our own departure had struck; we
cast off the lines that had kept us bound for two such memorable days
on the Flemish coast. In passing by, I waved a farewell to the two
Dutch captains, and away we went--westward ho!

VII

OFF THE COAST OF ENGLAND

Our boat carried us speedily away farther and farther towards the
west, and soon the lighthouse on the mole and the outline of the
country we had conquered faded away in the evening twilight. Before
long we should be surrounded by only hostile shores.

We first sighted the French port of Boulogne where the imposing bronze
statue of Napoleon I stands on a marble column fifty-three meters
high, with eyes turned towards the English coast. It was built to
commemorate the expedition planned by Napoleon in 1803 against the
sons of Albion, whose descendants have so recently landed on French
soil, and as they lie there encamped, they may wonder, when gazing at
the statue of the great Emperor, if he would have welcomed them with
the same enthusiasm with which they have been received by the present
rulers of France.

On our very first day in the French Channel we were able to sink
several steamers, after the crews had left in their lifeboats, and on
general lines a similar picture was traced at every sinking. We were
now granted our first opportunity to steer a submarine above and below
the waters of the North Atlantic. The ocean seemed to rejoice at our
coming, and revealed itself to us in all the glory of a March storm.
Only those who have seen such a storm can realize its proud majesty.
The gigantic, blue-black waves, with their shining crests lashed by
the west wind, came rushing onwards into the open mouth of the
Channel, and the hemmed-in waters, roaring and surging, dashed
themselves against the sharp, rocky points of the French coast, or
broke less violently but in ceaseless unrest on the chalk cliffs of
England which glimmered white in the rays of the sun.

[Illustration: _Copyright by Underwood & Underwood, N.Y._
LIFEBOAT LEAVING THE SINKING P. AND O. LINER ARABIA]

It is a splendid sig