,
one Belgian, and one French--with an aggregate tonnage of nearly
60,000. This had been accomplished in the face of her enemies'
combined sea power. The _Moewe_ first sailed through the blockade and
then came home again by the long way round. She skirted the whole of
Iceland to reach Wilhelmshaven safely, making a perilous voyage into
Arctic waters at the worst season of the year. All this and more the
German papers recounted with pardonable pride. It was said that
Germany had flung the gauntlet in the British face and escaped
unscathed.

Count zu Dohna-Schlobitten had the honor paid him of a visit from the
kaiser aboard his ship, where he received the Iron Cross. Wilhelm was
much pleased, as may be imagined, and the example of the count was
held up to the German navy as an illustration of what daring could
achieve.

The _Moewe's_ exploits evidently were part of a concerted plan.
Whether the raider actually sunk all of the vessels accredited to her
is a question that probably never will be answered. The evidence tends
to show that it was Germany's aim to create a fleet of auxiliaries in
the mid-Atlantic. It seems likely that the naval board in Berlin
conceived the idea of having a number of their interned vessels break
for the sea on a stated day and meet at a common rendezvous, or
undertake raiding upon their own account.

Whatever the plan, it was carried out in part. Two German liners
escaped from South American ports on February 12, 1916, and never were
heard from again, so far as the records go. They were the _Bahrenfeld_
and the _Turpin_. As the identity of the _Moewe_ already had been
established and allied warships were scouring the seven seas for her,
it appears plausible that the _Bahrenfeld_ and _Turpin_ both assumed
the same title, and that one or other of the vessels was taken to be
the original _Moewe_ by persons on ships which they sunk. Or one or
both may have been run down and the fact kept secret.

The _Bahrenfeld_ and _Turpin_ commanders were wily men. They told the
authorities at Buenos Aires, where the first named had sought asylum,
and Puenta Arenas, Chile, where the second was interned, that the
machinery of their ships was suffering from disuse, and requested
permission for a day's run in the neighboring waters that the engines
might have exercise. This was granted, and they quietly put to sea.
That was the last seen of them by the South American folk. But the
port officials at Rio de Jane