submerged to a great depth. The Frenchman, who had discovered us on
account of the explosion, had observed this, and, in spite of all our
twistings and turnings, could follow us easily.

It was a master work of our able sea crew to cut clear that heavy steel
net. The sea became still higher and washed furiously over the deck,
angered by the resistance of our little nutshell. The men were standing
up to their stomachs in the white, foaming waves, and had to use all
their strength to stand against their force. Full of anxiety, I sat in
the conning tower with a life-saving buoy ready and followed closely
with worried eyes every move of my men during their dangerous work.

All went well, and, after a half hour's hard work, we were rid of the
troublesome net. The nippers, hammer, and chisel and six drenched
sailors disappeared down the conning tower. Each of the six held in his
numbed, wet fist a rusty piece of the net as a souvenir of the
fourteenth day of April.

The sun arose as if nothing had happened. From the eastern horizon it
shone over the French coast as if to say:

"I am neutral! I am neutral!"

When it got up higher in the heavens and sent its greeting to England,
it shivered and hid behind a thick cloud.

What was the matter with it? What was it that destroyed the joy of the
greeting of the young morning? What was it yonder that wounded its
neutral heart?

A steamer approached. Thick, black clouds of smoke poured out along her
wake and hung heavily over the sea. She had two high, thin mastheads,
two funnels, slanting slightly toward the stern, and a light-colored
hull with a high bridge. "A funny ship," we decided and submerged.

When we saw her clearly through the periscope after a while, we found
out the discouraging fact that she was a hospital ship. The snow-white
color, the wide green bands from the bow to the stern, and the large Red
Cross on the hull and the mast tops easily identified her as such.

I was just about to turn away, as an attack upon a sacred Red Cross ship
could not be thought of, when my eyes as if by magic became glued to
something I could not make my brain believe, something unheard of. I
called Groening to the periscope, so that he could be sure I made no
mistake. No, I was right, and, to my amazement, I saw an insolence which
was new to this world. No wonder that the sun had hidden its face in
order not to see this scorn and mockery of humanity. No neutral sun
could shine on