As soon as they were
out of sight, we surfaced in order to report what we had seen to
Zeebrugge and Heligoland.
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.
I discovered him with his face to the ship's side, and upon my
reporting myself he ordered me, firstly to throw that blasted bottle
overboard (an unnecessary proceeding, as it was empty), and secondly to
surface and shape course for Zeebrugge.
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