3.75 amps, [11] for a period, when the sparking assumed the appearance of a ring of fire and, fearing a commutator strip would melt, I ordered an F.C. of five amps. 

 11. The lower the field current the faster the motor goes. 3.75 is almost incredibly low for a motor of this type--at least according to British practice.--ETIENNE. 

 We thus passed a quarter of an hour full of strain, the tension of which was reflected in the attitude of all the men. Alten had announced his intention of using the stern torpedo tube after his failure in the morning, and the crew of this tube were crouched at their stations like a gun's crew in the last few seconds preparatory to opening fire. The switchboard attendants gripped the regulating rheostatts as if by their personal efforts they could urge the boat on faster. Old Schmitt, at the helm, never lifted his eyes from the compass repeater. 

 At length: "Slow both!" "Bring her to six metres!" came from the conning tower, to which place I proceeded to hear the news. 

 Slowly the periscope was raised and I held my breath; a groan came from Alten and he turned away. For a fraction of a second I was almost pleased at his obvious pain, then, sick with disappointment, I took his place. Yes! it was all over. There they were, and with hungry eyes and depressed heart I saw five great battle cruisers, of which I recognized the Tiger with her three great funnels, the Princess Royal, Lion and two others, zigzagging along at 25 knots, at a distance of 12,000 metres, across our bow. 

 They were surrounded by a numerous screen of destroyers and light cruisers, the former at that range through the periscope appearing as black smudges. 

 It is not often one is permitted such a spectacle in modern war, and I could not tear myself away from the sight of those great brutes, whom I had fought when in the Derflingger at Dogger Bank and again when in the König at Jutland. So near and yet so far, and as they rapidly drew away so did all the visions of an Iron Cross. 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 

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