CAUGHT!

SAN FRANCISCO! Oh, huge, marvellous city!

What I enjoyed most was my freedom from arrest. Officialdom did not take the slightest notice of my presence, and I remained there for several days, in spite of the frantic anxiety of the German Consulate, which expected me to be led into captivity at any moment. I have rarely in my life enjoyed a madder, more delirious New Year’s Eve than in San Francisco! Nothing that I had heard about it approached reality. It was a pleasure to look at the people—thoroughbred, every one of them. The men tall and strong, the women captivatingly beautiful in their blonde fairness. My friends invited me to one of their biggest and most beautiful night clubs. Exorbitant prices and the smartest society of San Francisco. During that night everything seemed permissible.

The music and the dancing carried one away with their beauty and wildness. It was the night of San Francisco.

On the 2nd of January 1915 I took my departure, and by chance I met in the same railway carriage one of my comrades, and also several Germans with whom I had previously travelled by boat. We had a most enjoyable journey, the more so as the papers brought good news from Germany. As several of the elderly ladies and gentlemen were bound for home, we two officers also firmly believed that we were not far from attaining our object.

We stopped at the Great CaÑon of Arizona to admire the mighty wonders of Nature, which enfolded themselves in their glorious beauty. On the following days our train sped through the prairie, recalling to our minds boyish recollections of Fenimore Cooper and the Mohicans. At Chicago we separated, and I travelled thence to Virginia on a visit to dear friends of mine, and in the hope of finding out how I best could reach Europe.

After two or three days I sped to New York to try my luck there.

I had to hang about in New York for fully three weeks, and during these I had many opportunities of studying its people and their customs. Three weeks, in which time after time I nearly burst with fury. It was the climax of all I had endured until then. Hardly a picture, hardly a newspaper, hardly an advertisement that did not incite hatred against Germany, that did not pour abuse on the brave German soldiers. “Tipperary” seemed to have become the National Anthem of New York.

Was there no one who could open the eyes of these people? Did they really not wish to see and hear the truth? But the majority knew Germany only from hearsay—they hardly even knew where Germany was; and in spite of this they were ready with their judgment. Here one could gauge the monstrous power of the lying English Press, and the crass stupidity with which the Americans swallowed the bait. I did what I could. I talked, and explained, and tried to convince, but met everywhere the same answer: “Of course, you would not commit these atrocities; but your countrymen, Huns and Barbarians, do nothing else. Here it is, black on white in the Times—a paper of that importance does not tell lies.” My greatest consolation during that time was the touching manner in which I was treated and received by my friends and their acquaintances, and I remain truly grateful to them. One night I was particularly enraged. I had been to the Metropolitan Opera House, where I had listened to one act from HÄnsel und Gretel—German music, German words and German songs! My heart was bursting with frantic, aching longing for my beloved country; my soul drank in long draughts of German melody. Still bemused and carried away by my feelings, I stepped into the street and found myself at once recalled to reality.

The big space in front of the theatre held a huge crowd, as it did every night, and a cinema projector threw the newest war bulletins in garish letters across a blank wall. As was to be expected, Russia had again achieved one of her famous victories. The English had annihilated the army of the Crown Prince! The crowd was yelling with delight. Battle pictures followed. First some English and French warships, then suddenly, the German cruiser Goeben. The people raved, whistled, hissed, shouted—the din was endless. So much for the neutral Americans, so anxious to uphold the rights of men and the ends of Justice!

Until now all my efforts to reach Europe had been fruitless. I had imagined that my task would be easier. Once I nearly succeeded in sailing on a Norwegian boat as an ordinary sailor; but was dissuaded, as there were several Englishmen in her crew. At last I got what I wanted. By chance I made the acquaintance of a man who had led a rather stormy existence. He had been all over the world, and had lived for a long time in New York. I was never really quite able to ascertain his real occupation. However, he was very successful at one particular job—which consisted in polishing up old passports. We quickly concluded our bargain. In a few hours I had my papers with my photograph neatly pasted in, and all the proper police notifications entered according to existing regulations. And in this wise the Swiss traveller, locksmith, Ernst Suse, went on board the neutral Italian steamboat Duca degli Abruzzi on the 30th of January 1915, and disappeared into the steerage.

Two hours later we passed the statue of Liberty. Five sea miles out of New York two English cruisers were watching the mouth of the harbour. A shining example of the Freedom of the Seas! The journey was abominable. Though I had been trained in a rough school as a naval officer aboard a T.B.D. I had never dreamed of anything like it. The ship was heavily overweighted, and pitched and tossed to such a degree that I was convinced that she would capsize under the impact of the heavy seas. And the bugs! But I shall go into that later. On the morning of the third day of our journey I stood on deck and gazed longingly at the first-class railings over which two charming little faces were looking down at me. A gentleman approached them, and with difficulty I suppressed the name which sprang to my lips. For I knew him; it was——

Doubt was impossible. It was my brother officer T., who had come with me from Shanghai. He saw me at the same moment, but only recognized me after he had exchanged some very loud remarks with the ladies about the filthy fellow down below (meaning myself). Suddenly he stopped, stared hard at me, smiled knowingly, after which he suddenly turned away and disappeared.

In the evening, when darkness had completely fallen, I had an opportunity of a short talk with him. He was travelling as a distinguished Dutchman (of course he did not speak a single word of Dutch), and his destination, like mine, was Naples, and from thence homewards. Though we had both met daily in New York, each intent on getting home, we had been obliged by our respective helpers to keep what we did a dead secret from each other. And we now learned that we had both been to the same man!

Some days after leaving New York I suddenly went down with a high temperature, and had to take to my bed. I did not know what was the matter with me, but presumed malaria, and so did the Italian doctor, who gave me a ridiculously large dose of quinine. I did not have to wait long for the result, as I promptly grew worse, and my temperature rose to 103°. These days were indescribable. Our cabin, a veritable hole, was shared by four passengers. Above me lay a Frenchman who only stopped gabbling and cursing when he was sea-sick. The lower berth was occupied by a pale and resigned Swiss (his nationality at once awoke my suspicions). This man was so sea-sick that it was my opinion he would never reach Europe alive. In the upper, left-hand berth a perfectly rabid Englishman smoked his pipe of Player’s Navy Cut unremittingly day and night, in spite of the closed portholes. He was nearly always drunk and unable to cease his abuse and revilings against Germany for one moment. It is easy to imagine how much rest I got! To cap it all, my berth lay close to the engines, and the bugs were the worst item of the programme. And these dreadful pests did not come singly, but in battalions. Oh, what were the noises, the horrible smells and the sea-sickness compared to this plague! In spite of my exhausting weakness I tried to destroy or to drive away the loathsome insects. But I was soon forced to give up in despair.

After that I relapsed into complete indifference. I told myself that the voyage would be over in a few days, and as soon as we had reached beautiful Italy, and I had given myself a short rest, I should be back in my beloved Fatherland. I fought off my illness with the utmost energy, and the thought of Germany aided my convalescence, so that when the ship reached Gibraltar on the 8th of February I was able to be up and about.

Gibraltar!

How many times already had I sailed past this Rock, how often had I, returning from foreign parts, tendered joyous welcome to the grey stones, the sign-post, in these straits to the faithful homeland! What was in store for me this time? In spite of the fact that the time-table made no provision for calling at Gibraltar, the ship entered the port for examination, without even awaiting a request to do so, and dropped anchor. To this extent had the Italians already become the slaves of the English! As soon as the ship lay to, two pinnaces descended upon us, from which emerged an English naval officer and sundry policemen and sailors armed to the teeth. A bell was sounded all over the ship, with the order that all foreign passengers, who were neither English nor Italian, should assemble on the pilot bridge. The Italian stewards went below, inspected the ship’s hold and all the cabins, and drove us like a herd of sheep to the upper deck, where we were closely surrounded by them and the English sailors. I cannot pretend that I felt particularly happy! In spite of this I experienced a certain amount of confidence, as I soon found out that I was the only one equipped with a genuine passport and photograph. On the other hand, I established the fact that we were five Swiss, three of whom had already excited my suspicion on account of their shy and retiring disposition. There was only one whom I had not noticed at all, and he looked so dirty and repulsive that I took the precaution of moving away when he placed himself beside me. After an hour, during which the first-class passengers were examined—casually, and with great politeness—our turn came. We stood there like six miserable sinners. The first one was an Italian-Swiss workman, who had lost his right arm. His wife, a typical Italian, prostrated herself wailingly at the Englishman’s feet. She was accompanied from the steerage by her whole tribe, and they all wailed. The Englishman looked contemptuously at those people, and after a short examination the man was dismissed and free to go. We had now to advance. The tallest amongst us Swiss stood on the right wing. The English officer went up to him and said: “You are a German officer.” Violent and indignant protestations naturally followed; but the English officer, whom they left quite cool, ordered him aside and turned to us—we seemed more like the genuine article in his sight. We pointed to our passports, and each one of us dished up a wondrous yarn. After a short pause he said: “All right; these four can go, but I will keep that one.”

My heart was throbbing with joy, but, alas, then appeared the Judas. A young fellow, in perfectly fitting civilian clothes, went up to the officer and spoke to him in raised tones. “It is quite out of the question that these people should be allowed to leave without having all their belongings thoroughly searched. I am convinced they are Germans.” We exclaimed loudly at this, but to no end, though the English officer obeyed this blackguard with evident reluctance and contempt. However, the examination took place. Everything was turned upside down. The rascal ferreted about everywhere, but seemed unable to find any incriminating marks on any of our belongings. Suddenly he whipped round, tore open my coat, turned out my breast-pockets and said triumphantly to the officer who stood at his side, “You see, there is neither a name nor a monogram. It is a sure sign that he is a German, and that he has destroyed all initials.” Oh, if I could but have brained the reptile!

As we were soon to learn, this civilian was the representative of the firm of Thomas Cook Brothers in Gibraltar, and acted on the ships in the dual capacity of d—— spy and interpreter. His German was so pure that he must have enjoyed our hospitality in Germany for many years. How many wretched creatures probably owe their undoing to this busybody!

Once more we five were driven on deck like cattle. At this moment Judas number two appeared, who had been fetched by Cook’s agent. This was a first-class Swiss passenger, and at the instigation of the arch-sneak he was to try us in Swiss dialect. Of course we all failed miserably. Our protests were useless. Not even when I told them the wildest tales about knowing no German, as I had left Switzerland with my parents when a child of three, and had settled with them in Italy, and that after that I had drifted to America. I talked nineteen to the dozen in good Italian and American, and I nearly succeeded; but the snake hissed again—and my hopes were dashed to the ground.

The English officer refused us any further hearing; but only remarked that more Swiss had passed through Gibraltar than there were in the whole world. Bursting with a frenzy that bordered on madness, I was led away. I quickly gathered my few traps and was able unobserved to slip a scrap of paper into a German lady’s hand, which she later faithfully delivered to my relatives. A sailor rudely propelled me down the gangway into the pinnace, where the other poor wretches already sat, completely crushed. On the arrival of the English officer with his minion we started.

The Swiss traitor stood at the breast-rail of the ship and grinned gloatingly at us. Thereupon I was unable to contain myself any longer, but jumped up and shook my fist at him, yelling out an invective. Hysterical, treacherous laughter sounded back.

But a pair of German eyes sent me a sad farewell from starboard.

Good-bye, oh, happy comrade! Greet for me the Fatherland you will see again in a few days.