be
also. I blew out the tanks and rose, for there was no sign of any
warship near. They had some good system of signalling from the shore,
however, for I had not got to the North Foreland before three destroyers
came foaming after me, all converging from different directions. They
had about as good a chance of catching me as three spaniels would have of
overtaking a porpoise. Out of pure bravado--I know it was very wrong--I
waited until they were actually within gunshot. Then I sank and we saw
each other no more.

It is, as I have said, a shallow sandy coast, and submarine navigation is
very difficult. The worst mishap that can befall a boat is to bury its
nose in the side of a sand-drift and be held there. Such an accident
might have been the end of our boat, though with our Fleuss cylinders and
electric lamps we should have found no difficulty in getting out at the
air-lock and in walking ashore across the bed of the ocean. As it was,
however, I was able, thanks to our excellent charts, to keep the channel
and so to gain the open straits. There we rose about midday, but,
observing a hydroplane at no great distance, we sank again for half an
hour. When we came up for the second time, all was peaceful around us,
and the English coast was lining the whole western horizon. We kept
outside the Goodwins and straight down Channel until we saw a line of
black dots in front of us, which I knew to be the Dover-Calais torpedo-
boat cordon. When two miles distant we dived and came up again seven
miles to the south-west, without one of them dreaming that we had been
within thirty feet of their keels.

When we rose, a large steamer flying the German flag was within half a
mile of us. It was the North German Lloyd _Altona_, from New York to
Bremen. I raised our whole hull and dipped our flag to her. It was
amusing to see the amazement of her people at what they must have
regarded as our unparalleled impudence in those English-swept waters.
They cheered us heartily, and the tricolour flag was dipped in greeting
as they went roaring past us. Then I stood in to the French coast.

It was exactly as I had expected. There were three great British
steamers lying at anchor in Boulogne outer harbour. They were the
_Caesar_, the _King of the East_, and the _Pathfinder_, none less than
ten thousand tons. I suppose they thought they were safe in French
waters, but what did I care about three-mile limits and international
l