Aircraft and Submarines Part 28

The length of the _Deutschland_ is about 315 feet; beam 30 feet, and draught 17 feet. For surface propulsion and for charging the batteries, the boat carries two 4-cylinder, Diesel, heavy-oil motors of about 600 H. P. each. The speed at the surface is from 12 to 13 knots; and submerged it is 7 knots. At the surface the displacement of the boat is about 2000 tons, and she has a cargo capacity of about 700 tons.

The freeboard to the main deck, which runs the full length of the boat, but is only about 5-1/2 feet wide, is about 6 feet, and the c.o.c.kpit at the top of the conning tower is about 15 feet above the water. This c.o.c.kpit, by the way, is suggestive of the protection afforded a chauffeur in an automobile, there being a s.h.i.+eld in front of the quartermaster, so shaped as to throw the wind and spray upwards and clear of his face.

Two periscopes are provided; one at the forward end of the conning tower, and the other, of larger diameter, being forward and on the starboard of the conning tower. An interesting feature is the two folding, steel, wireless masts, about 50 feet in height, both of which fold aft into pockets built in the deck of the s.h.i.+p. The forward one of these masts carries a crow's nest for the lookout.

The commander of the _Deutschland_, Captain Paul Konig, was before the war a popular captain of North German Lloyd liners. He has published a very vivid and interesting account of the _Deutschland's_ trip, the _Voyage of the Deutschland_. In this book, he tells us how he was offered this novel command while the plans were still being drawn and that he immediately accepted, making, however, the proviso "if the thing really comes off."

The men, backing the venture, lost no time and, so Captain Konig tells us,

in less than two months a telegram called me to Berlin to an important conference. Here I looked at sketches, plans, and working drawings until my eyes swam. Four more months pa.s.sed which I utilized to the full. I then went to Kiel and saw a remarkable framework of steel slowly take shape upon the stocks across the way at Gaarden. Rotund, snug, and harmless the thing lay there. Inside it were hidden all the countless, complicated, and powerful features of those sketches and working drawings. I cannot boast that the reality as executed in steel and bra.s.s was any easier to grasp than the endless network of lines and circles which had bewildered me when inspecting the blueprints.

Those of you who have seen ill.u.s.trations and photographs of the interior of the "central station" or the "turret" of a submarine, will understand what I mean. And should you have entered a submarine itself and felt yourself hopelessly confused by the bewildering chaos of wheels, vents, screws, c.o.c.ks, pipes, conduits--above, below, and all about--not to speak of the mysterious levers and weird mechanisms, each of which has some important function to fulfill, you may find some consolation in the thought that my own brains performed a devils' dance at the sight.

But after this monster, with its tangle of tubes and pipes, had been duly christened, and its huge grey-green body had slid majestically into the water, it suddenly became a s.h.i.+p. It swam in its element as though born to it--as though it had never known another.

For the first time I trod the tiny deck and mounted the turret to the navigation platform. From here I glanced down and was surprised to see beneath me a long, slender craft--with gracious lines and dainty contours. Only the sides, where the green body vaulted ma.s.sively above the water, gave an indication of the huge size of the hull. I felt pride and rapture as my eye took in this picture. The fabric swayed slightly beneath my feet--an impressive combination of power and delicacy.

And now I know that what had at first seemed to me nothing more than the product of some mad phantasy on the part of the technicians was in reality a s.h.i.+p. It was a s.h.i.+p in which oceans might be crossed, a real s.h.i.+p, to which the heart of an old sailor like myself might safely attach itself.

Then came a short period of trial trips and diving tests, all of which were carried off successfully, and at last the day of departure arrived. As soon as the last escort had turned around a final diving test was ordered.

Instantly the response came back from the turret and the central station, and the men hurried to their posts. The oil engines were still hammering away at a mad rate. I left the manhole of the turret. The cover was battened down, the engines stopped at the same moment.

We felt a slight pressure in our ears for a moment. We were cut off from outside and silence reigned. But this silence was merely an illusion--and was due to the change.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Permission of _Scientific American_.

_A Submarine Entrapped by Nets._]

"Open the diving-valves! Submerge!"

The valves were flung open and the compressed air escaped hissing from the tanks. At the same time a gigantic, intermittent snorting ensued, like the blowing and belching of some prehistoric monster. There was an uncomfortable pressure in our ears, then the noise became more regular, followed by a buzzing and a shrill hum. All the high notes of the engines in the central station intermingled and made a bewildering noise. It was like a mad diabolical singsong. And yet it was almost like silence after the dull, heavy pounding of the oil-motors--only more insistent and irritating. The penetrating hum in the various vents announced the fact that the diving mechanism was in operation. It moaned and sang lower and lower in the scale of tones. These slowly diminis.h.i.+ng and steadily deepening tones give one the physical feeling of mighty volumes of water pouring in and flooding full.

You have the sensation of growing heavier and sinking as the boat grows heavier and sinks, even though you may not be able to see through the turret window, or the periscope, how the bows are gradually submerged and the water climbs higher and higher up the turret until all things without are wrapped in the eerie twilight of the depths.

The faithful lamps burned, however, and then a real silence suddenly ensued. There was no sound but the gentle trembling rhythm of the electric engines.

I then gave the order:

"Submerge to twenty meters!"

"Both engines half steam ahead!"

I was able to follow our submersion by means of the manometer.

Through flooding the tanks, the boat is given several tons over-weight and the enclosed s.h.i.+p's s.p.a.ce is made heavier than the displaced quant.i.ty of water. The t.i.tanic fish, therefore, began to sink downward in its element, that is to say, it began, in a certain sense, to fall. At the same time the electric engines are put into motion and the propulsive force of the propellers acts upon the diving rudders and causes the sinking to become a gliding. After the required depth has been reached--something which may easily be read from the manometer that records the depth--all further sinking may be stopped by simply lightening the hull, which is done by forcing out some of the water in the submarine's tanks. The furious growling of the pump is always a sure sign that the required depth is being approached. The noise ceased, only the electric motors continued to purr, and the word came from the central station:

"Twenty meters--even keel!"

"Rudder set!"

So we forged ahead at a depth of twenty meters. Of course we are "blind" under such conditions and can regulate our movements only by means of the depth recorder and that precious little jewel of the boat, our compa.s.s. No ray of light reached us any longer from without, the periscope was submerged long ago and the steel safety covers over the windows were closed. We had been metamorphosed completely into a fish.[1]

[Footnote 1: ]

Orders were then given to rise again. The _Deutschland_ carried out this manoeuvre with the same facility with which she had taken the initial dive of her long voyage. In record time the ballast tanks were emptied and the change from electric motors to oil engines was completed without further loss of time. The boat was started at top surface speed towards her ultimate goal, the United States.

On the following day the _Deutschland_ barely escaped running foul of a British submarine chaser, disguised as a neutral merchantman. A quick dive alone saved her. When she came up again a wild storm and a heavy sea were raging. Even before the change from the electric motors to the oil engines had been completed, another dangerous looking vessel appeared and before long was recognized as a hostile destroyer by Captain Konig. He tells us that he "Made one jump into the turret and slammed the cover fast."

"Alarm! Dive quickly! Flood!"

"Set diving rudder!"

"Twenty meters' depth!"

The commands were uttered in almost one breath. But the execution of them!

To attempt to dive with such a sea running was sheer madness, as experience has taught us. What was I to do? The destroyer might have seen us already!

Well, we knew we must get under--and as quickly as possible.

The men in the central below me were working away in silent haste. All the exhausts were opened wide, the compressed air hissed from the tanks--the diving vents were chanting in all possible keys.

I stood with my lips pressed together and stared out of the turret window upon the tossing sea, and watched for the first sign of our going down. But our deck remained still visible and we were continually lifted into the air by some wave. There was not a moment to be lost.

I ordered the diving rudder to be set still more sharply and both engines to drive ahead with full power.

The whole vessel quivered and thrilled under the increased pressure of the engines and made several leaps. She staggered about in the furious seas--but still seemed loath to leave the surface. Then she gave a jerk and her bows suddenly dipped and cut into the flood. She began to sink into the depths at an ever-increasing angle. The coming daylight vanished from the windows of the turret, the manometer in rapid succession showed 2--3--6--10 meters' depth. But the angle of the boat also began to increase.

We staggered about, leaned back, slipped off our feet. We then lost our footing entirely--for the floor of the _Deutschland_ slanted sharply toward the front. I was just able to catch hold of the ocular or eye-piece of the periscope. Down in the central the men were hanging on to the hand-wheels of the diving rudder.

A few terrible seconds pa.s.sed thus.

We had not yet seized the full significance of this new situation when there came a severe shock. We were hurled to the floor and everything that was not fastened down went flying in all directions.

We found ourselves in the queerest att.i.tudes--and stared into one another's faces. There was a grim silence for a moment, then First Officer Krapohl remarked dryly:

"Well, we seem to have arrived!"

This broke the ghastly tension.

We were all rather pale around the gills, but at once tried to get our bearings.

What had happened?

What had caused this unnatural inclination of the boat? And why were the engines above us raving at intervals in a way that made the whole boat roar from stem to stern?

Before any of us had arrived at any solution of the mystery, our Chief Engineer, little Klees, had jumped up from his crouching position, and, swift as lightning, had swept the engine-signal dial around to "Stop!"

And suddenly there was a deep silence.