not
aware that you were familiar with these waters. The Dogger Bank is
right ahead, and we shall reach it in less than an hour."

An hour later I was conscious of a light shock as the submarine
stopped.

We had grounded on the sandy shoal of the Dogger, in twenty fathoms
of water, and overhead I could see great black shadows sweeping
slowly past.

They were cast by the trawlers of the Gamecock fleet.

It being still daylight I did not venture to let the submarine show
itself on the surface of the sea.

Hugging the bottom, I steered in and out among the great trailing
nets of the fisher fleet.

At the same time I ordered my crew to keep a sharp watch for the
first submarine, promising fifty marks[B] to the man who sighted her.

[Footnote B: A silver mark is about twenty cents of our money.]

The rest of that day passed without anything happening.

As soon as darkness fell I brought my boat up to the surface, partly
in order to renew the air supply, and partly to scan the horizon in
search of the oncoming Russian fleet.

But thanks to the promptness with which I had gone out to sea I had
anticipated Rojestvensky by twenty-four hours. The Baltic Fleet was
still in Danish waters, waiting to pick up the German pilots who were
to lure it from its course.

Finding there were no signs of the Russians, I submerged the
submarine, all except the little conning tube, which was invisible in
the darkness, and ran in among the English smacks.

As I heard the brave, hardy fishermen talking to one another, the
temptation was a strong one to disclose myself, and warn them of the
coming peril.

Only my experience of the uselessness of such warnings restrained me.
I knew that these simple, law-abiding citizens would laugh me in the
face if I told them that they were in danger from the warships of a
foreign Power.

As my unseen vessel glided softly past the side of one fishing-boat,
whose name I could just make as the _Crane_, I overheard a few scraps
of conversation, which threw a pathetic light on the situation.

"We shall have the Rooshians coming along presently," said one voice.

"No," answered another, "they won't come anywhere near us. 'Tis out
of their course."

"They do say the Rooshians don't know much about seamanship," a third
voice spoke out. "Like as not we'll see their search-lights going
by."

"Well, if they come near enough, we'll give the beggars a cheer; what
d'ye say?"

"Aye, let's. Fair play'