Everything seemed against us. I had gone on the bridge with the
navigator; Alten, with a face as black as hell, had gone to the
wardroom. About ten minutes elapsed when I heard a fearful altercation
going on below. I stepped down to find the young wireless operator
trembling in front of Alten, who was overwhelming him with a flood of
abuse. As I reached the wardroom, Alten shook his fist in the man's
face and bellowed:

"Make the d---- thing work, I tell you."

"Impossible, Captain, the main condenser----" the man began.

Purple with rage, Alten seized a heavy pair of parallel rulers, and
before I could check him hurled them full in the operator's face.
Bleeding copiously, the youth fell to the deck in a stunned condition.

It was then, for the first time, that I noticed a half-empty bottle of
spirits on the table, which colossal quantity he must have consumed in
about a quarter of an hour.

Turning to me, this semi-madman pointed to the wireless operator with
his foot and growled:

"Have him removed."

This I did, and then, lowering the periscope, I ordered the boat to
fifteen metres. We proceeded at this depth until 8 p.m., when I was
informed that the Captain was in his bunk and wished to see me.