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Updated: June 21, 2025
It had been dawning on me in the last half-hour that this canal was only one of several; that in concentrating myself on Esens and Bensersiel, I had forgotten that there were other villages ending in siel, also furnished on the chart with corkscrew streams; and, moreover, that Böhme's statistics of depth and distance had been marshalled in seven categories, A to G. The very first match brought full recollection as to the villages.
Soon after it took angular tacks to the eastward, and joined another blue line trending south-east, and lettered 'Esens Wittmunde Canal. This canal, however, came to an abrupt end halfway to Wittmund, a neighbouring town. For the first time that day there came to me a sense of genuine inspiration.
I reviewed every circumstance of that day at Bensersiel, and boiled to think how von Brüning had tricked me. He had driven to Esens himself, and read me so well that he actually offered to take me with him, and I had refused from excess of cleverness. Stay, though; if I had happened to accept he would have taken very good care that I saw nothing important.
A boy brought me a tankard of tawny Munich beer, and, sipping it, I watched. People passed in and out, but nobody spoke to the sailor in mufti. When a quarter of an hour elapsed, a platform door opened, and a raucous voice shouted: 'Hage, Dornum, Esens, Wittmund! A knot of passengers jostled out to the platform, showing their tickets.
Norden had its tidal creek, but Esens and Dornum had their 'tiefs' or canals.
A submarine engineer I knew him to be before; I now knew that canals were another branch of his labours not a very illuminating fact; but could I pick up more in a single day? There remained Esens, and it was thither I resolved to go tonight a tedious journey, lasting till past eight in the evening; but there I should only be an hour from Norden by rail. And at Esens?
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