Just for an instant longer I stood there to check up my

calculations--I wanted to be quite sure before I accused Benson

of perfidy, and about the only thing I came near making quite

sure of was death. I cannot see even now how I escaped it.

I was standing on the edge of the conning-tower, when a heavy

palm suddenly struck me between the shoulders and hurled me

forward into space. The drop to the triangular deck forward of

the conning-tower might easily have broken a leg for me, or I

might have slipped off onto the deck and rolled overboard; but

fate was upon my side, as I was only slightly bruised. As I

came to my feet, I heard the conning-tower cover slam. There is

a ladder which leads from the deck to the top of the tower.

Up this I scrambled, as fast as I could go; but Benson had

the cover tight before I reached it.

I stood there a moment in dumb consternation. What did the

fellow intend? What was going on below? If Benson was a traitor,

how could I know that there were not other traitors among us?

I cursed myself for my folly in going out upon the deck, and then

this thought suggested another--a hideous one: who was it that

had really been responsible for my being here?

Thinking to attract attention from inside the craft, I again ran

down the ladder and onto the small deck only to find that the

steel covers of the conning-tower windows were shut, and then I

leaned with my back against the tower and cursed myself for a

gullible idiot.

I glanced at the bow. The sea seemed to be getting heavier, for

every wave now washed completely over the lower deck. I watched

them for a moment, and then a sudden chill pervaded my entire being.

It was not the chill of wet clothing, or the dashing spray which

drenched my face; no, it was the chill of the hand of death upon

my heart. In an instant I had turned the last corner of life's

highway and was looking God Almighty in the face--the U-33 was

being slowly submerged!

It would be difficult, even impossible, to set down in writing

my sensations at that moment. All I can particularly recall

is that I laughed, though neither from a spirit of bravado nor

from hysteria. And I wanted to smoke. Lord! how I did want to

smoke; but that was out of the question.