ashed for weeks, soaked with
machine oil, and saturated with salt spray, their first thought is--a
hot bath. At sea, we must be very sparing of our fresh-water supply,
and its use for washing must be carefully restricted.

The commander usually spends the eve of his departure in the circle of
his comrades, but it is a solemn moment for him as soon as he sails
from his native shore. He becomes responsible for every action which
is taken, and for many weeks no orders reach him from his superiors.
He is unable to ask any one's advice, or to consult with his
inferiors, and he stands alone in the solitude of his higher rank.
Even the common sailor is conscious of the seriousness of the task
ahead and of the adventures which may occur below seas. No loud
farewells, no jolly hand, no beckoning girls are there to bid us
Godspeed. Quietly and silently do we take our departure. Neither wife
nor child, nor our nearest and dearest, know whither we go, if we
remain in home waters, or if we go forth to encounter the foe. We can
bid no one farewell. It is through the absence of news that they know
that we have gone, and no one is aware, except the special high
officer in this department of the Admiralty who gives the commander
his orders, on what errand we are bound or when we shall return, for
the slightest indiscretion might forfeit the success of our mission.

Before dawn, on the day of our departure, the last pieces of equipment
and of armament are put on board, and the machinery is once more
tested; then, at the appointed hour, the chief engineer informs the
commander that everything is ready. A shrill whistle bids the crew
cast loose the moorings, and at the sound of the signal bell the boat
begins to move. As we glide rapidly out of port, we exchange by mutual
signs a few last greetings with our less favored comrades on the decks
of the ships we leave behind, who no doubt also long to go forth and
meet the enemy.

The land begins to disappear in the distance, and as we gaze at the
bobbing buoys that vanish in our wake, we hope that after a successful
journey they will again be our guides as we return to our dear German
homes. After gliding along smoothly at first, we soon feel the boat
tossing among the bigger waves; but we laugh, as they heave and dip
around us, for we know everything is shipshape on board, and that they
can do us no harm. The wild seas are bearing us onward towards the
hated foe, and after all--in the end