irect influence on the
sight, which is far more distinct over a light sand than over dark
seaweed or black rocks, and at an upper level the sunshine is
noticeable many meters under water. But in any case, the vision
underseas is of the shortest, and does not extend beyond a few
meters; light objects and even the stem and stern of our own boat are
invisible from the turret. We are unaware, therefore, of advancing
ships, derelicts, or projecting rocks, and no lookout can preserve us
from these dangers.

The crew is entirely ignorant of their surroundings. Only the
commander in his turret surveys through the periscope now and then a
small sector of the horizon; and in turning round the periscope he
gradually perceives the entire horizon. But this survey demands great
physical exertion, which on a long cruise is most fatiguing. The
periscopes erected through the upper cover of the turret must not be
too easily turned in their sockets, and the latter are very tightly
screwed in, for otherwise they would not be able to resist the water
pressure at a great depth. The effort of simply turning the periscope
is so exhausting that casual observations of the horizon are made by
the officer of the watch; but during naval maneuvers or in time of
war, the commander alone manipulates the periscope. It is essential in
this case that the periscope should not arise needlessly above water
and betray the presence of the U-boat.

The commander must possess the absolute confidence of his crew, for
their lives are in his hands. In this small and carefully selected
company, each man, from the commanding officer down to the sailor boy
and down to the stoker, knows that each one is serving in his own
appointed place, and they perform their duties serenely and
efficiently.

I have always allowed every man on board once, in turn, to have a
look through the periscope; it is their highest ambition, and the
result is excellent, for it reassures them and they feel more
confident as to their own safety after the granting of this small
favor.

As we advance underseas, unless passing through a school of fish, we
seldom see any fish, for the noise of the propellers frightens them
away; but when we lie at rest on the bottom of the ocean, the electric
lights allure them, and they come and stare at us with goggling eyes
close to the windows in the turret.

The life, therefore, in our "cylinder" as we call it, offers a good
deal of variety. The term "c