Danger! and Other Stories | Page 6

The ship lay within two hundred yards of us, and it was easy to see that
she had her death-blow. She was already settling down by the stern.
There was a sound of shouting and people were running wildly about
her decks. Her name was visible, the Adela, of London, bound, as we
afterwards learned, from New Zealand with frozen mutton. Strange as
it may seem to you, the notion of a submarine had never even now
occurred to her people, and all were convinced that they had struck a
floating mine. The starboard quarter had been blown in by the
explosion, and the ship was sinking rapidly. Their discipline was
admirable. We saw boat after boat slip down crowded with people as
swiftly and quietly as if it were part of their daily drill. And suddenly,
as one of the boats lay off waiting for the others, they caught a glimpse
for the first time of my conning-tower so close to them. I saw them
shouting and pointing, while the men in the other boats got up to have a
better look at us. For my part, I cared nothing, for I took it for granted

that they already knew that a submarine had destroyed them. One of
them clambered back into the sinking ship. I was sure that he was about
to send a wireless message as to our presence. It mattered nothing,
since, in any case, it must be known; otherwise I could easily have
brought him down with a rifle. As it was, I waved my hand to them,
and they waved back to me. War is too big a thing to leave room for
personal ill-feeling, but it must be remorseless all the same.
I was still looking at the sinking Adela when Vornal, who was beside
me, gave a sudden cry of warning and surprise, gripping me by the
shoulder and turning my head. There behind us, coming up the fairway,
was a huge black vessel with black funnels, flying the well-known
house- flag of the P. and O. Company. She was not a mile distant, and I
calculated in an instant that even if she had seen us she would not have
time to turn and get away before we could reach her. We went straight
for her, therefore, keeping awash just as we were. They saw the sinking
vessel in front of them and that little dark speck moving over the
surface, and they suddenly understood their danger. I saw a number of
men rush to the bows, and there was a rattle of rifle-fire. Two bullets
were flattened upon our four-inch armour. You might as well try to
stop a charging bull with paper pellets as the Iota with rifle-fire. I had
learned my lesson from the Adela, and this time I had the torpedo
discharged at a safer distance--two hundred and fifty yards. We caught
her amidships and the explosion was tremendous, but we were well
outside its area. She sank almost instantaneously. I am sorry for her
people, of whom I hear that more than two hundred, including seventy
Lascars and forty passengers, were drowned. Yes, I am sorry for them.
But when I think of the huge floating granary that went to the bottom, I
rejoice as a man does who has carried out that which he plans.
It was a bad afternoon that for the P. and O. Company. The second ship
which we destroyed was, as we have since learned, the Moldavia, of
fifteen thousand tons, one of their finest vessels; but about half-past
three we blew up the Cusco, of eight thousand, of the same line, also
from Eastern ports, and laden with corn. Why she came on in face of
the wireless messages which must have warned her of danger, I cannot
imagine. The other two steamers which we blew up that day, the Maid

of Athens (Robson Line) and the Cormorant, were neither of them
provided with apparatus, and came blindly to their destruction. Both
were small boats of from five thousand to seven thousand tons. In the
case of the second, I had to rise to the surface and fire six twelve-pound
shells under her water-line before she would sink. In each case the crew
took to the boats, and so far as I know no casualties occurred.
After that no more steamers came along, nor did I expect them.
Warnings must by this time have been flying in all directions. But we
had no reason to be dissatisfied with our first day. Between the Maplin
Sands and the Nore we had sunk five ships of a total tonnage of about
fifty thousand tons. Already the London markets would begin to feel
the pinch. And Lloyd's--poor old Lloyd's--what a demented state it
would be