At last I saw him; he was a small gas-bag of diminutive size, beneath
which was suspended a little car, the most ridiculous little travesty
of an airship I have ever seen. He was nosing along at about 800 feet
and making about 40 knots.

Suddenly he must have seen the wake of our periscope, for he turned
towards us. Simultaneously Alten, from the conning tower (I was using
the other periscope in the control room), ordered the boat to sixty
feet, and put the helm hard over.

We had turned sixteen points, [1] and in about two minutes heard a
series of reports right astern of us. It was evident that our ruse had
succeeded and that he had overshot the mark.

[Footnote 1: 180 degrees]

Inside the boat one felt a slight jar as each bomb went off.

We gradually came round to our proper course, and cruised all day
submerged at dead slow speed. Every time we lifted our periscope he was
still hanging about sufficiently close to make it foolish for us to
come to the surface.

Towards noon a group of trawlers, doubtless summoned by wireless,
appeared, and proceeded to wander about. These seemed to concern Alten
far more than the airship, and he informed me that from their, to me,
aimless movements he deduced they were hunting for us by hydroplanes.
Occasionally we lay on the bottom in nineteen fathoms.