We breakfasted on tinned mackerel, an unlucky dish. The _Harmonie_,
empty of cargo, was like an eggshell in the water. She bounced and
rolled and bounded from wave to wave, half of the time her screw out of
the water. The breakfast did not nourish many. Far on the horizon could
be seen the destroyer and the cruiser sweeping in gigantic circles.
Half a kilometre away a periscope suddenly appeared, then the submarine
dived, rose once more, showing the rounded conning tower, dived, rose
again, like a porpoise at play.
"See," cried the sailors, "how well are we guarded. Outermost the
cruiser, then the destroyer, and innermost the submarine." The cruiser
and destroyer took big sweeps once more and steamed off behind us
towards Cattaro.
Our boat rolled its way from dawn to dusk. We sought refuge in the coal
hole, some lay down in the little officers' cabin. After dark the sea
grew more rough, and splashing over the deck drove even the most ill to
find shelter. Whatmough staggered to the companion, tripped over
something, and fell the length of the stair accompanied by a hard object
which hit him and made hissing sounds like a bicycle pump.
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