But I must record what we have done. Already I am getting much pleasure
from reading my diary. Strange how it amuses one to see little bits of
oneself on paper, and the less garnished and franker the truths the
more entertaining it is.

[Illustration: "The torpedo had jumped clean out of the water a hundred
yards short of the steamer and had then dived under her."]

[Illustration: "We were put down by a trawler at dawn."]

[Illustration: A moment later there was a severe jar; we had struck
the bottom]

The hours here are so long and boring at times that I feel I want to
talk intimately with someone. Failing Zoe I turn to my notebooks.

The first steamer we sighted raised high hopes, at least her smoke did,
for we saw enough smoke on the horizon to make us think we were to see
the Grand Fleet, and we promptly dived. We cruised towards her for
about half an hour, and then hung about where we were, as we found that
her course would take the ship close to us.

As the situation developed, Alten, who was up in the conning tower at
the "A" periscope, gave us a certain amount of information, and we
gathered that all this smoke was pouring out of the pipe-stem tunnel of
a wretched little English tramp.

I found it most irritating, standing in the control room (my action
station) and not knowing what was going on.