The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1918-10-09
tsy C. Le Halsalie.>

dawn. A short command, given nalI aloud, from time to time broke the sleepy rhythm of the engine On the green surface of the still waters Of the yard there Is singleo raft, 1n- distinctly and glistening, the larva of a boat still in its encasements.
 The x-5o is going on an expedition toward the German waters. It IS a dellcate mission. However, the de- parture of the submarine toward the | unknown has nothing solemn about | it. The officer, half buried In his hood. like a devil in his box, com 1nands the manoeuvre.
 'F1fteen to the right - slowly - siowly-cut off at zero-Go," The submarine oscillates, inc1ines to get ready to perform Il serpentine whirl. Then 1t runs straight ahead, The sea is beautiful One can re- main on the back of this fish without getting too wet.
 The sailors who are not part of the watch. instead of descending to the ouarters below to sleep and walt for their turn at service, prefer to lounge on the bridge Perohed upon the kicsh, about the open hood, on the srattnRs of the matches. before the carriage of the cannon, men are doz- ing. Their eyes half closed, they watch the white ripple of the waves that caress the gray steel of the shell, dying on the bridge as they lap their feet and their knees
 Boarded by a thin sheet of foamins water, everything ahead of the sup marine Is like Q mirror under the duH light of the winter sky. The metal shines in fugitive shades of color, the shell seems big chamelon of the sea- The sea is beautiful and calm. The drg net men strut about good natured- < fy on their rounds. The all-white sil- houetts of e. hospital ship with its red cross is set off against an aurole of light
 But on the surface of the sea. there is the obsession of passing death Down wonder a red spot gaInbola lightly on the waves There is neither mast. nor sail, nor chimney A wrecki
 As we watch 1t through our binocu- lars, the wreck becomes more dis tinctly visible Ii is a barqne- abandoned live-saving barque, per- hape a sign of recent shipwreok. The barQue appears to be empty There is no sign of life in it But when, tossed by the sea, the barque inclines towards us, so that we can get a side view, we see something like c gray package in the bottom of 1t Is this undefned package a dead body or Is 1t bundle of rags? Perhaps . shlp-wrecked person has disap- peared-
 We shall not know about the mys- tsry; for the barque Is too far away and we cannot delay to pick it up. Upon wireless message to signal notice of the wreck, others will pro- ceed toward the riddle.
 We are still quite distance from the German sea; still we must aban- don pavigation on the surface.
 Tffese small black spots, scattered as far as the horizon spots upon the great blue sea, are fishing boats. We know that spies arc hiding among them. They act as though they wert attending to their net, but in reality they are watching the ships that pas' and signalling the enemy by means o, a wireless apparatus. sometimes hid. den in g mast or tucked away in thu Ndge of a sail It is better not tt rSn the risk of being spotted. Tn, eof-snAnder therefore gives the order Prepare to dive"
 onAthe bridge, the sailors who hay, been Nozing there, slowly and re luctanEy get up. One must be very old. sea-dog. indeed, to have be oome uaAd to diving without dislike Before disappearing into the coffin these nAen always and quite in spit of themselves, cast an avid look upoi the sky. the sea. the open world about
 When we go down through tn hood VIC tumble, first of all. into tn kiosi. The kiosk constitutes tn vostibuze of the submarine. It Is a oval box, lighted by a few port-hght plaoad on the back of the shell of tn Submartne. Through the ceilin opens the trapdoor, the real door fat this floating tomb.
 I descend Into the kiosk and SC the end of ths ladder which starts g the open trap door. A sailor is b my side. He is closing the hoot Three turns of the vice and it is sea cd, hermeticalfy.
 From below comes @ cryf Read to dive, commander" The con nnander replies. gro the ballasts!"
 During the dive I purpossly r, rnained in the kiosk. Through tt trap door see the commander, lear ing forward toward the periscop For below the kiosk is the manoeuvl room, the commanders blockhous the brain of the submarine. Tn manoeuvre room, where the steel an copper organs were intertwined. con plicated and monstrous. could see the all-too-steaady light of the ele trio lamps. The dim light shin through the trap door, iIlumineg u kiosk and blends with the pale da light shining through the portiights.
 ''To the ba1lasts,'' the tube, u barrels. the wheels, the dials, evt the torpedoes, and the long iron she too-everything tremblss and sings the interior of the submarine. 4rst 1t is soft sound, like the sol Of water that Is beginning to bo Then the 'ron-ron'' of all this T sounding assembiage of steel al pepper sweils forth. The rumbli becomes enormous, absorbs t rhythm of the dynamos and beeom elhe dominant vibration.
 We dive. I fix my gaze upon t port-lights of the kiosk. Oh, wh a strange sensation. All the S sfses and Kolls toward me to engl he. but without pressing down up
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