amer, also coming from America, laden
down, as we soon ascertained, with 5,000 tons of oats, and making its
way to Havre. We started after it, and as usual it tried to escape,
but a well-directed shot through the bridge and chart house brought it
to a stop, and it signaled that the engines were being reversed. The
boats were lowered, and on drawing near we perceived the captain with
others on the bridge holding up their hands as a token of surrender.
As soon as those on board had taken their places in the lifeboats they
rowed towards us and showed the liveliest interest in the final
torpedoing of their steamer. They looked upon it as a new kind of
sport, and under the present conditions they could watch the
performance in the most comfortable way. The sea was like a mirror,
and reflected the smiling spring sunshine whose warming rays were most
agreeably felt.

The English captain had scarcely been on board my submarine a moment
when he begged that we might go together and verify the excellent aim
of our first shot through the forward part of his ship, which he told
me had nearly grazed his ear. I consented to go on his lifeboat and
admire with him, to our mutual enjoyment, the irreproachable
marksmanship of my gunner, although I did not accept a drink of
whisky one of the English officers offered me.

On seeing the gaping hole in the forecastle, the captain and his men
clapped their hands and cried out, "A very good shot!" The captain
congratulated me for securing, as he asserted, the richest prize I had
ever made, but I assured him we had sunk even more valuable cargoes
than the present one. I decided, as the sea was calm and no ship was
in sight, to spare our torpedoes and shells and to put an end to the
steamer with little hand grenades. The Englishmen took a sportsmanlike
interest in the proceedings, and one of the officers even volunteered
to show me the most effective position for the explosive. I naturally
did not gratify his wish to place it there himself, for I knew myself
very accurately the most vulnerable spot in the ship. In a very few
moments a big hole was torn in the side of the "Crown of Castille" and
with a gurgling sound the waters rushed in. At the same time long,
yellow threads of the finest oats floated far out on the sea and,
glistening with a golden shimmer, gave proof long after the steamer
had sunk of the precious cargo which had lain within its flanks. You
poor French army horses, I fear you