I did not attempt to speak but contrived by sundry movements and shuffling on one pretext or another to get closer to him. Then I resorted to subterfuge. Standing with my hands in front of me I began to twiddle my fingers rapidly. The action appeared to be natural and did not arouse the slightest suspicion. Within the limitations available I was forming some of the letters of the deaf and dumb alphabet with which I am fully acquainted and dexterous. Did he understand the language? I watched him closely. Presently I saw his fingers begin to move with apparent equal aimlessness. I watched intently. He was answering me and to my joy I discovered that he understood English.

Our fingers were now working briskly and we carried on a brief monosyllabic conversation while the other prisoners were completing their work. From him I learned that I was certainly in great danger. But he urged me to cheer up. Then he asked me the number of my cell, which I gave. He replied that he was directly opposite me, and he told me to look out for him whenever I got a chance, which, needless to say, under the stringency of my life, was not likely to be often. He had such a frank open face that I felt as if I could trust him, although I had come to regard every German, no matter how apparently innocent his conversation might be, with the gravest suspicion. But a quaint, quiet, suppressed smile which he gave restored my confidence completely.

The hours dragged along as during the previous day. It was wearying and exhausting. I refused all my food and was making an imposing collection of bowls of foodstuff. None was taken away. The gaoler merely observed that I had not touched anything, but he made no comment. When night fell I essayed to lie down, but this was impossible. The sores on my projecting thigh bones had broken into large wounds which were now bleeding and suppurating and were so painful as to render lying down impossible. As a matter of fact more than two months passed before those wounds healed and the scars are still visible.

I was lying as best I could upon my bed vainly striving to woo sleep. It was about midnight. The key grated in the lock and a young officer entered. He was gruff of manner, but according to the German standard was not unkind. I found that his manner was merely a mask to dissipate any suspicion among others who might be prowling round, such is the distrust of one German of another. After he had shut the door his manner changed completely and he was disposed to be affable. But I resented his intrusion. Had he come to fathom me? Was he an emissary seeking to induce me to commit myself inadvertently? Frankly I thought so. He spoke softly and his voice was intentionally kind, while he spoke English perfectly.

"I would like to help you," he began.

"Would you?" I retorted cynically.

"Yes, I am very fond of the English. I have lived in London several years and have many friends over there."

"Well, it's a thousand pities we don't serve some of your blighted countrymen the same as they are serving me," I shot back.

"Yes, I know. I am very sorry for you. But it is our way. Now I, myself, don't think you are a spy. I think your story is honest and straightforward."

"Then why in the name of Heaven don't they treat me so until they have tried me?"

"Ah! That is the English way. Here, in Germany, a man is guilty until he is found innocent!"

"Oh! So that's your much-vaunted German 'Kultur,' is it?" I laughed sarcastically.

Seeing that I was a bit overwrought he sought to pacify me.

"Would you like a cigarette?"

At the thought of a smoke I nearly jumped for joy. There was nothing for which I had been yearning so much as the solace of a cigarette. I took one from his proffered case.

"H'sh! I cannot stay any longer now. The guard might get suspicious. But I will do all I can for you. I will come to see you every night at this time. I will make you as comfortable as I can as a return for the many courtesies and kindnesses I received while in London. Now light up and jump up to the ventilator to puff the smoke out. If they smell tobacco in the cell you will get into serious trouble."

He bade me good-night and the next instant I was at the window to enjoy the only peaceful few minutes of pleasure which had come my way since my arrest. My smoke completed I settled down to sleep with additional comfort.

At 2.30 in the morning I was once more awakened. The door flew open and in rushed my friend the young officer. He was terribly agitated. He grasped both my hands and I felt that he was trembling like a leaf. His voice was so broken that he could scarcely speak.

"Good God! Do you know what has happened? Great Britain has declared war on Germany!" Like a child he burst out crying. As for myself I knew hardly what to think. I had been hoping against hope that the circumstance of our still keeping friendly relations would facilitate my speedy release. This hope was fairly blasted now, and I was certain to meet with far shorter shrift and harsher treatment than had already been meted out to me. I may say that this was the first intelligence I had received about the outbreak of war with Great Britain.

Stifling his emotion the officer went on.

"I am very sorry it has happened. I shall not be able to see you again!"

"Why?"

"I have to leave for the front. I have ten minutes to say farewell to my poor old mother." Here he broke down once more. "My poor mother," he wailed. "It will kill her. She does not know a soul in Wesel. We are utter strangers. I was summoned back from London only a week or two ago." He gave vent to another outburst of sobbing.

"Cheer up!" I said soothingly, "you'll see her when you come back!"

"Come back?" he echoed bitterly. "No! I shall never come back. I shall never see her again! Good-bye! Remember that I always thought kindly of the English. But I won't forget you before I go!"

His fatalistic resignation somewhat moved me. He was inwardly convinced that he was going to his death. But I appreciated his sparing a little of his bare ten minutes to give me a parting visit. I also thank him for remembering me as he had promised. Shortly after he had gone the gaoler came to my cell with a sack of fresh straw to serve as a mattress. The young officer had paid him to extend me this slight privilege. To me it was like a Heaven-sent blessing, because it enabled me to seek a little repose without subjecting my bleeding hips to further damage.

During the following day, Wednesday, I was enabled to snatch a peep of the corridor without, owing to the gaoler paying me a visit in response to my summons. To my utter astonishment, looking across the corridor, I saw the mysterious prisoner with whom I had been talking by aid of the mute alphabet, lounging at the door of his open cell smoking a cigar. This discovery startled me, and I decided to be more than ever on my guard. To my mind, which was becoming distracted, everyone appeared to be spying upon my actions. The mysterious prisoner looked across the corridor and saw me. Instantly his fingers commenced to move rapidly. I was talking to the gaoler, but was looking beyond him at the prisoner opposite, greedily taking in the signs. I almost jumped as I read off the letters. "Be alert! Something is going to happen!"



CHAPTER IV

MY SECRET MIDNIGHT TRIAL

It was Wednesday evening. I should judge the hour was about eight, although to me it appeared to be nearer midnight. I was lying upon my planks thinking and wondering what the end of it would be. My head was whirling with giddiness from the eternal pacing, and from the wound which I had received, while I was faint from hunger, having eaten nothing since the lunch on the train on Monday, save for the two small rolls upon Wesel station. I had not refused the prison fare from feelings of obstinacy, but simply because my stomach revolted at it. The untouched basins were still standing beside me in a row, the one which had been served first now commencing to emit distinct signs of its staleness.

The door opened, but I ignored it. In fact I was in a semi-comatose condition.

"Rouse! Get up!" growled the head gaoler.

I struggled to a sitting posture and looked up. Standing beside me was a military officer. I could not repress a start. But the absence of arrogance somewhat reassured me, and I struggled to my feet.

"Herr Mahoney," he commenced, "a serious view has been taken of your case. However, as you have money the authorities are prepared to give you every chance to prove your innocence. You can have counsel if you choose. I can arrange it at once!"

I reflected for a moment. The crisis had been reached at last, and the moment for which I had been longing for bracing myself up to meet the supreme ordeal had arrived. I decided to maintain a stiff upper lip. Yet, in all fairness I must admit that the authorities were treating me justly. Here was I, an absolute stranger in their country, ignorant of the language beyond a few colloquialisms, and in the most dangerous situation in which a man could possibly find himself.

Yet I did not regard the offer favourably. I feared that it was a move to trap me decisively. I should be at the mercy of counsel. This was the thought which harassed me. However, subsequently, I discovered that throughout that Wednesday the trials of other spies had been held, and that in no other instance, so far as I could ascertain, had the privilege of representation by counsel been extended. But I swiftly made up my mind as to my course of action.

"Thank you for the offer," I retorted at last, "but I prefer to undertake my own defence. Besides I am absolutely innocent and it will not be a difficult matter for me to convince the Court."

"As you will," and the officer shrugged his shoulders.

He went to the door, and at his command four soldiers came up with loaded rifles. They closed around me, their bayonets levelled, to run me through should I make an attempt to escape. We marched out of the cell. Up, up, up, we went, the steps appearing to be interminable. I walked as if in a dream, and being faint and weary I moved somewhat slowly. But, strange to say, my escort did not hurry me. I was certainly shown every consideration upon this occasion. During the procession I was thinking hard and swiftly, and with a superhuman effort pulled myself together for the coming fight for life.

We entered a spacious, well-lighted room. At the opposite end was a long table set transversely, around three sides of which were seated a number of military dignitaries. That they were of considerable eminence was evident from their prodigal array of decorations. They glanced at me as I entered, but instantly resumed their low conversation and perusal of documents and other material connected with my case. It did not require a second thought to realise the importance of this court-martial, but I felt somewhat perturbed at one circumstance.

My trial was to be held in secret.

I was made to take up a position some distance from the table and immediately opposite the central figure who was acting as chairman and inquisitor-in-chief. The soldiers formed a semi-circle around me, the only open space being immediately before me.

At this date I often reflect upon the strange and sorry sight I must have presented. I was dressed in a frock coat which was sadly soiled, a white waistcoat extremely dirty and blood-stained, and trousers sadly frayed at the bottom where the searchers had ripped off the turn-ups. I was without a shirt, having torn this up to bandage my head, which even now was swathed in a dirty, blood-stained dressing, while the buttons had become detached from my under-vest so that the soiled ends flapped over my waistcoat. My face was none too clean, being besmirched with smudges, since I had been denied the luxuries of soap and towel, and it was covered with a stubbly growth. Altogether I must have been the most sorry-looking, if not revolting specimen of a spy ever arraigned before that immaculate Tribunal.

It is useless to relate the trial in extenso because there were so many details which were completely void of interest except to me and my judges. Although every word, passage, and scene is burned into my brain I have only committed the most important episodes to paper. The proceedings opened with the chairman holding forth in monotone German. Seeing that I took no notice of his tirade he paused. We were soon to come to grips. He fired at me in English:

"You understand German?"

"No!"

"Well, we think you do!"

"You are at liberty to think what you like, but the fact remains that I don't!"

Seeing that I was not to be over-awed by his arrogance or to be brow-beaten he modified his attitude. This spirited bout sobered the tribunal, and the trial proceeded more smoothly, except for a few outbursts now and again which were sharp and pointed while they lasted.

"Well, we will provide you with an interpreter," he continued in a more placid tone, "but we still hold the opinion that you can speak and understand German!"

There was delay for a few minutes. Then the door opened and a second later my interpreter stood beside me. How it was I did not jump into the air I do not know, because the man summoned to assist me was none other than the mysterious prisoner with whom I had been talking in the mute alphabet.

This denouement almost unnerved me. I was now more positive than ever that he had been deputed to spy upon me in prison. I looked at him askance, but received not the slightest sign of recognition. I had refused to entrust my cause to counsel and now I was placed in the hands of an interpreter who, if he so desired, could wreak much more damage by twisting the translations from English to suit his own ends.

As events proved, however, I could not have been in better hands. He was highly intelligent, and he interpreted my statements with a fluency and accuracy which were astonishing. Only now and again did he stumble and hesitate. This was when he was presented with an unfamiliar expression or idiomatic sentence.

As the trial proceeded I gained an interesting side-light upon German methods and the mutual distrust which exists. Ostensibly, and so I was led to believe, none of the Tribunal spoke English with any fluency, but when, on one occasion, my interpreter was floored by a particularly difficult colloquialism which I uttered, the Clerk of the Court came to his aid, and in a moment turned the sentence properly to convey my exact meaning. This revelation placed me on my guard more than ever, because it was brought home to me very convincingly that if my interpreter tended to lean unduly towards me, he himself would be in serious jeopardy. Later, during the trial, I discovered that the Clerk spoke and understood English as well as I did. It was a telling illustration of the German practice of spying upon one another.

The first part of the trial was taken up with a repetition of the numerous questions I had already answered times out of number, accompanied by a more searching cross-examination. As the trial proceeded I saw that the authorities had collected every vestige of evidence from every official who had questioned me and with whom I had held any conversation.

There was one exciting moment. An officer, evidently of high rank, entered the room. He looked at me in a manner which I resented. With a sneering grin he enquired,

"Englander? Ha! Ha! Spion? What are you doing here?"

"I have come at the pressing invitation of four gentlemen with four points!" I suavely replied.

This sly allusion to the four soldiers with their bayonets lashed the interrupting officer to fury. The whole court indulged in a wild and loud conversation. The chairman waved his arm wildly. Before I grasped what had happened the soldiers closed round me, I was roughly turned round, and to the accompaniment of liberal buffeting was hustled down the steps to my cell.

A few minutes later my interpreter came to me.

"Listen to me, English friend. You must not annoy the Court. I am trying to do all I can for you. I do not think you guilty. But if you are—what do you call it—h'm——" and he snapped his fingers perplexedly.

"Sarcastic?" I ventured.

"Yes! That's it. If you are sarcastic you make my work very hard!"

"But that officer had nothing to do with the Court, had he? Why did he interfere with a gratuitous insult?"

"Ah! I see. You don't understand. They will do that. But you must remember the uniform!"

Further conversation was prevented by the reappearance of the soldiers. I was to be taken back to the Court. I decided to take my interpreter's advice, and although I was frequently roused intentionally, I bit my lip at the insults and choked down sharp retorts.

"Do you realise the nature of the charge and the gravity of your position?" asked the chairman, after proceedings had been resumed. There was no trace of resentment at the recent incident in his voice.

"I do perfectly."

"Then do you not think it somewhat strange that a man like you should be travelling to Berlin, on the way to Warsaw, on the very day when war was declared against Russia? Is it not strange also that you should be here after Great Britain has declared war?"

"When I set out for Berlin war had not been declared between Germany and Russia. On Monday when I was arrested war had not been declared against Germany by Great Britain. I was arrested on the flimsiest pretext and upon the word of a deliberately lying youth before war had been declared with my country!"

"Ah! we shall see. You do not think it strange to be travelling through Germany at such a perilous time with so much photographic apparatus?"

"No! I was not using it!"

"So you took no photographs in Germany?"

"No!" And the lie flew out in spite of myself. But I felt perfectly secure because I knew exactly where the film, which I had exposed, was. It was beyond their reach!

"Then what is this?" And to my surprise he held up somewhat triumphantly the length of photographic film from the camera with which I had taken the two farewell pictures of my family.

Up to this point I had successfully maintained a stiff upper lip and perfect composure. But at the sight of the film carrying the parting pictures, my thoughts flew to home and its associations. I broke down.

The court was jubilant. My spontaneous outburst of weakness at memories of home was misconstrued into a recognition of the fact that I had been trapped.

Amid a silence which was soul-burning and which caused my voice, quivering at first but rapidly regaining strength and its natural ring, to echo strangely through the room, I narrated the history of that film. As I had expected it provoked a fearful wrangle. The fight was sharp and hot while it lasted, but I thanked my lucky stars that I was not only well skilled in the technics of photography but the chemistry side as well. The film in question was sufficient for six exposures. Three had been made. In addition to the two pictures of my family's farewell which corresponded to exposures two and three there was another picture, of archaeological interest, concerning a Sussex church, which was exposure number one. The rest of the film, which would have corresponded to pictures 4, 5 and 6, had never been exposed.

The film which was held up had been developed by order of the court. The unexposed portion had been passed through the development processes, and I experienced a thrill of joy. I saw that I was now on solid ground.

"How did you expose this film?"

"In the usual way. The church was taken first, followed by the two pictures of my family. The rest of the film has never been exposed."

"That is what you say. But the Court thinks differently. Listen, the two pictures of your family were taken first and this of the church last—possibly, indeed probably, in Germany?"

"It was not. No photographer, even the tyro, would pass half a film through his camera before making an exposure."

For ten minutes we fought tooth and nail over the way in which that film had been passed through the camera. Then, seeing that they could not shake my evidence, and doubtless impressed by my vehemence, they turned round completely to return to the attack.

"Well, granted, as you say, that the church was taken first, the second half of the film was exposed in Germany. But you, seeing the danger of your position upon arrest, contrived to ruin these last three pictures before the camera was taken away from you," snapped the Chairman.

In spite of myself I laughed.

"The second half of the film has never been exposed at all," I rejoined.

"How can you prove that?"

"Very easily. If I had ruined it by exposing it to the light as you suggest, the film upon development would have come out black! But it is quite transparent!" I replied in triumph.

My retort floored the Court. We were dipping into matters about which they were completely ignorant. There was a hurried whispering and then the Chairman commented:

"We'll soon prove that you are wrong!"

Proceedings were suspended. A clerk left the room to return a little later with a civilian who proved to be a photographer in Wesel.

The problem was presented to him, but I saw at once that he knew nothing whatever about the chemistry of photography. He was turned over to me for cross-examination, and within three minutes I had so pulverised his statements that he was quite bewildered, and he left the Tribunal with his photographic reputation sadly shattered.

Another witness was summoned, the Court being determined to get at the bottom of the problem which had been raised. They certainly recognised the significance of my contention. This time it was a military officer. He was examined by the Court, and then I was given the liberty to cross-examine. My very first question was adequate to satisfy myself that he knew even less about the subject than the previous witness. But he was nervously anxious not to betray his ignorance. He had been called in as an expert and fervently desired to maintain this reputation. He did so by acquiescing in every statement which I put to him concerning the action of light upon nitrate of silver.

"Now," I asked emphatically, when I had completely caught him, "under these circumstances, and according to what you have been explaining to the court, the second half of this film which is transparent has never been exposed?"

"It has not."

His negative was so emphatic as to convince the Court. I had scored the crucial point and felt, now my supreme difficulty had been subjugated so conclusively, that all was plain sailing. It was only too evident that everything had turned upon that short length of unexposed film, and I felt devoutly thankful to Providence that the light had not accidentally penetrated to the sensitised surface. Had the unexposed section been black my fate would have been irrevocably sealed.

Now I was asked to present my defence.

"Can you give us a complete and detailed narrative of your journey, say from the time you left Brighton by the 5.10 p.m. train, on Saturday, August 1, up to your arrest."

I nodded affirmatively.

"Well, go ahead!"

Forthwith I launched out. I am naturally a rapid speaker and although my interpreter was confronted with a gigantic task, he performed his work magnificently. Only once or twice did he falter for a moment or two. But I was never interrupted nor asked to repeat a statement, so that the thread of my story remained unbroken. For two hours and a half I spoke and I think the readiness and clearness with which I proceeded must have impressed the Court. As I warmed to the subject my head grew clearer and clearer. I knew I was fighting for my life, but the whole of the episodes and scenes during the critical fifty odd hours passed through my mind as if delineated upon a continuous cinematograph ribbon of film.

Midnight had passed before I had finished. The clerks of the Court had been steadily writing during the whole period, and I knew that every word I had uttered had been faithfully recorded. The Tribunal gave a sigh of relief as I intimated that I had nothing more to say. I was returned to my cell, accompanied by my interpreter, whom I thanked for his assistance which I could never repay. The Court might decide what it liked. I had put up a stiff fight and could do no more. I thought I was to be left alone for the night. I was sorely in need of rest, and the nervous tension under which I had been labouring now began to reveal itself. The reaction commenced to set in. But there was no rest for me yet. Hardly had I sat down upon my plank bed before I was re-summoned. By this time I was so weak that I could hardly stand. The perspiration was pouring out all over my body. Indeed, I had to be assisted up the stairs.

To my utter surprise, when I entered the court, I found the record of my defence completed. There it was in a pile of neatly inscribed sheets, numbered, and secured together. The Chairman pushed the depositions before me.

"Sign here," and he indicated the foot of the last page.

I picked up the papers. They were in German. I returned them unsigned to the table.

"I decline!" I replied emphatically.

"But you must!"

"Well, I shall not. I don't understand German. I don't know what it's about!"

"It's your defence!"

"So it may be, but I have only your word for that. I decline to sign anything I do not understand. It may be my death warrant!"

"If you don't sign I can tell you that we have means of making you do so," he continued somewhat menacingly.

"I don't care. You can do as you like, but I am not going to sign those papers."

My determination provoked another animated discussion. Finally another pile was pushed towards me, I could not curb a start. It was my defence written throughout in English, and had undoubtedly been written simultaneously with the German version. I eyed the Clerk of the Court narrowly and he returned the gaze just as keenly.

I ran through the depositions. They were perfect. Picking up the pen I signed my name without hesitation. The signature was inspected, and then the original German papers were once more presented with the invitation to sign. Again, I refused.

"But," expostulated the Chairman, "this is a literal German translation from the English which you have signed!"

"So it may be, but the fact remains that I don't understand German," I retorted.

Another storm burst, but the Tribunal saw that it was impossible to shake my resolution. There was another brief discussion. Then the Chairman turned to one of his colleagues, and in a despairing voice asked, "Can you suggest a way out of the difficulty?"

"Yes!" I interrupted. "Give the interpreter the German and me the English copy. Let him translate from the German and I will compare with the English version."

The offer was accepted, but now another hitch arose. The interpreter said he did not think he could read off the translation from the German right away—at least, it would take time.

The Court was in a quandary. Seeing that this unexpected obstacle was likely to prejudice my position I grabbed the English text and thrust the German copy into my interpreter's hands. Telling him to go ahead I remarked that we could make something out of it. We wrestled with the translation, although it was a slow and tedious operation, but at last we finished the task. The German depositions being quite in order, and fairly translated I signed the papers without further ado.

Now I thought the ordeal was over, but it was not. Picking up my signed depositions the Chairman proceeded to re-examine me on my defence. He started from the moment I arrived at Flushing and traced my movements, minute by minute, to Berlin, followed what I did in the capital between 1.30 a.m. the hour of my arrival and 1.13 p.m. the time of my departure. The manner in which my movements had been dogged was astonishing and I recalled the individual whom I had noticed shadowing me in the city. I saw at once that everything turned upon the instant nature of my answers, so I replied to every question without the slightest hesitation and to such effect that I never once contradicted myself.

Only one interval, and that of ten minutes in Berlin, threatened to engulf me. I could scarcely fill up this gap. It happened to be one of those idle intervals which one can never explain away very readily or satisfactorily. We disputed this ten minutes vigorously for about half an hour, and by the time we had finished I do not think there was a single second for which an account had not been rendered. My interview with the Consul also precipitated a storm, especially as by this time I was becoming bored and felt dead-tired. Every question, however, sufficed to prove that I was firmly considered to be a spy, and a dangerous one at that. But even the re-examination came to a close at last.

Now my heart nearly jumped out of my body. The chairman, picking up the papers which had been taken from my pocket, withdrew a little book. It was my diary, which was full of notes. The moment I saw its familiar cover I cursed the inspiration which had prompted me to keep a diary. I knew what it contained and I knew the cryptic notes therein would bring about further explosions and protestations. I was not disappointed. Opening the little book the Chairman enquired innocently:

"What do you mean by things being 'lively' in Berlin?"

"It is a British expression," I retorted, my brain working rapidly to advance a conclusive reply as I recalled the phrase which I had jotted down. "We term things 'lively' when say, as in my case, one is first thrown out of a cab by a officer and shortly afterwards is flung out of a restaurant!"

"Rather an unusual phrase to use when one recalls the political situation which prevailed in the capital last Sunday, is it not?"

"Possibly from the German point of view, in the light of events."

"Then you had an enlightening chat with an officer? What was it all about? How did you open conversation with him?"

"In the usual British manner. We just chatted about things in general."

"Especially of the war between Germany and England?"

"No! Because we were not at war!"

"But the officer advised you to return home! Why?"

"Because I could not get through to Warsaw!"

Other incidents of a spirited character raged about other phrases in the little book, but I was on the alert. The Chairman evidently considered me to be a match for him in these wrangles because he speedily put the diary down.

During the proceedings the Chairman made one frantic endeavour to trap me, and to prove that I was more fully conversant with the language, as he confidently believed, than I felt disposed to concede. Something was being read over to me by the Clerk upon which my thoughts were concentrated. Suddenly the Chairman roared out a terrifying word in the vernacular. I never moved a hair. I behaved just as if the Chairman had merely sneezed. My imperturbability appeared to convince him that I really did not understand German, because no further reference was made to the fact. Subsequently my interpreter told me that it was fortunate I did not understand German or I would certainly have retorted to the Chairman's sudden interjection. I should not have been human had I not done so. He refused to tell me what the word was or what it meant, so I was never a whit the wiser.

At last I was told the proceedings with reference to myself were closed. I had been on the rack for several hours, and when the gate of my cell clicked upon me for the last time that eventful evening the morning hours were well advanced. As my interpreter left me to go to his cell I enquired wearily, though with a trace of anxiety,

"When shall I know the result?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Perhaps to-morrow. Who knows?"

Personally I felt confident that a speedy release would be granted. It seemed to me impossible to convict upon the evidence. But I was ignorant of German ways and military court procedure. I was destined to receive a greater surprise than any which had yet befallen me.



CHAPTER V

WAITING TO BE SHOT

I shall never forget the night of Wednesday, August 5th. After the excitement of my trial which had left me well nigh exhausted, I threw myself upon my wooden plank bed to recuperate with a well-earned rest. But I had just made myself comfortable when a terrible uproar broke out. The prison trembled and I half feared that it would tumble about our ears. The emergency bells commenced to clang madly, while the building was torn with the most terrifying shrieks and howls.

Then the deafening sounds of explosions burst on our ears. At the time I wondered what was the cause for this din, but the next morning I was told that during the night the French had made an aerial raid upon Wesel. From within it sounded as if the whole Allied Army were pounding the building. On top of the prison anti-aircraft guns were mounted and when they were discharged, which was continuously and rapidly, they shook the building violently. Indeed an earthquake could scarcely have set up a more agitated oscillation of the fabric.

Although the bells rang madly they were not answered. Every gaoler had left his post; gone no one knew whither. The prisoners thought they had been deserted. They were haunted by the terror of the prison being set in flames by the bombardment. The shrieks, cries, howls and wails born of fright made my blood chill. Outside one could hear the muffled shouts of officers giving orders, curses, and rapid firing by small arms. The whole place appeared to have been afflicted with panic, as acute among the soldiers without as among the prisoners within. For about an hour pandemonium reigned. Even to me, shut up as I was in a narrow cell, it was easy to appreciate the terrible and far-reaching undermining effect which an aerial raid has upon the Teuton mind.

Within the prison next morning it was possible to see the dire effects which the French aviators had caused. A few cells below me was a prisoner. When I saw him on the Thursday morning I scarcely recognised him. As a result of that hour of terror his hair had gone completely white! Other prisoners were sadly bruised and scarred from frantically beating their hands and heads against the doors of their cells in the desperate endeavour to get out. One poor wretch went raving mad.

Notwithstanding the ordeal of the trial, which had deprived me of my normal span of rest, I was woke up at 5.30 to sweep out my cell. The strain of the prolonged inquisition of the previous evening upon an enfeebled physique and brain now commenced to assert itself in an emphatic manner. I had eaten nothing, not even a crust of the black bread, for fifty-four hours. Little wonder that I could scarcely keep my feet. My gaoler observed my condition, but said nothing, although he modified his customary boorish attitude towards myself.

When I had to make my daily visit to the yard to clean my utensils and to re-charge my water-jug I staggered down the steps. I stepped out of the line in my turn and grasped the pump-handle. But I was too weak to move it. A fellow-prisoner, recognising my plight, dashed forward to work the pump. As he did one of the guard raised his rifle to club the man across the head, but thinking better of his action, dropped his weapon, and permitted him to assist me.

How I crawled back to the cell I can scarcely remember. But I recall being spurred forward with sundry jabs and prods by the rifle. Reaching my cell I sank down upon my bed.

How long I lay there it is impossible to say, but presently I became conscious of some one standing beside me. I wearily sat up to see an officer. Had he brought me the verdict of the Court? At the thought I rose to my feet. But no! He had nothing to do with the Tribunal. He eyed me closely and then turning to the array of basins containing the untouched food and hunks of black bread he remarked grimly:

"Do you know you will die if you don't eat your food?"

"I shall if I do, so what's the odds? Its smell is sufficient!"

"Do you know we can make you eat it?"

"You try, and I promise you that you will get it back in double quick time," I retorted significantly and defiantly.

"Well, what would you like to eat?"

"Like to eat?" I repeated. "Why, I could do with a six-course dinner," was my sarcastic rejoinder, feeling confident that he had merely asked the question to tantalise me. But seeing that he really meant what he said I rattled off a complete menu, not forgetting the cup of black coffee and an Egyptian cigarette. Feeling that the officer was in reality the prison doctor I grew reckless and cynical.

"Well, I'm damned!" was his ejaculatory comment when I had finished. And he gave a loud, long laugh.

My temper was rising, and I think my face must have betrayed my wish to strangle him, because he continued, "You've got money, and you can buy one meal a day from outside if you like. I'll grant you your gluttonous feed to-day—except the cigarette—seeing that you've eaten nothing for three days. The cigarette is impossible: it is quite against the rules and regulations of the prison. But to-morrow you'll have to rest content with a plate of meat and vegetables."

After he had left the cell I came to the conclusion that he had been merely having a huge joke at my expense. But ten minutes later the gaoler entered bearing two big trays upon which were arrayed the six courses. My eyes glittered with a wolfish greed, but I restrained myself. I sat down to the meal and proceeded with it very leisurely, getting up now and again to pace a little while to assist my weakened digestion. Indeed, by the time I had swallowed the last morsel the gaoler entered with my tea. But that meal put new life into me. Afterwards I easily subsisted upon the dinner from without; that was adequate for the twenty-four hours. I think I paid sufficient for the privilege seeing that the six-course dinner and three subsequent plates of meat and vegetables cost me twenty-six marks.

While I was denied all conversation with any of the prisoners I saw them at least once a day. But if I did not see much of them I heard them frequently, especially when punishment was being dealt out. Then the corridor would ring with dull thuds as blows by the rifle were administered, followed by violent shrieking and wailing. The prison, at least the precincts of the Avenue of the Damned, was ruled with a rod of iron, and various brutalities were practised and often upon the slightest pretext. It is only necessary to relate one revolting episode which I witnessed with my own eyes. On Friday morning, August 7, my cell-pacing was rudely interrupted by the appearance of the gaoler who curtly ordered me to stand outside my cell door. I found that all the cells—except one—along the corridor were wide open, and with their occupants similarly standing at the entrances. Between each two cells stood a soldier with his rifle ready to jab his bayonet to right or left at an instant's notice.

I wondered what was the matter, and was told that we were to witness and to profit from the punishment which was to be dealt out to a prisoner who had broken one of the prison rules. Lying in the centre of the corridor was the prone groaning form of a prisoner—a Frenchman, I believe—who had been dragged from the cell before the open door of which no one was standing. He was terribly weak and ill. Beside him stood four hulking, burly and heavily-booted Prussians.

At the word of command these four men rushed forward and commenced to kick the hapless prisoner for all they were worth. The man shrieked, groaned and howled. We all shivered at the sight and at his terrible cries. It sickened me. But the brutes never relented. The more he writhed and the louder he howled the harder they kicked, face, body and head receiving the blows indiscriminately. In a minute or so the man lay still upon the floor, literally kicked into insensibility. Whatever any of the prisoners around may have felt none could extend assistance or interfere. Some strove to shut out the terrible sight by covering their faces with their hands, but the bayonet point speedily induced them to look as commanded. If any one of us had moved a step to proceed to the poor wretch's aid we should certainly have been run through without the slightest compunction.

The unconscious prisoner was picked up and thrown into his cell, while we were likewise rushed in upon the conclusion of the disgusting exhibition. Subsequently I enquired the reason for such a ferocious outburst. Then I found that the prisoner, who was so ill that he really ought to have been in hospital, had rung his bell, to summon the gaoler for permission to respond to one of the calls of nature, but that he had been unable to contain himself until the dilatory official arrived. I might mention that I had heard the bell ringing for fully ten minutes but without avail. Although scrupulous cleanliness is demanded from each cell I know from experience that the gaolers are ever reluctant to reply to a call of the emergency bell, and think nothing of causing the hapless wretch terrible misery. It serves to bring home to the prisoner that he is under confinement and not in a hotel to be waited on hand and foot. Such is the German argument.

Next morning on our going into the yard the unfortunate prisoner who had been punished so diabolically was not to be seen. More significant still his cell was empty, and the door was wide open. I could only surmise that his worldly troubles were over. If so he would be officially declared to have "died in prison!"

Favoured prisoners are granted a sack of straw to serve as a mattress. I had been denied this luxury but secured it later through the good offices of the lieutenant who visited me on Tuesday night. I was lucky enough to get new straw. Apparently the sacks are never renewed during a prisoner's incarceration. He merely replenishes his stock when another cell becomes vacant, irrespective of the period the straw therein has been in use. There is a mad rush for the empty cell, and the prisoners fight like wolves among themselves for the possession of the derelict straw, each bearing away triumphantly the small dole he has obtained from the struggle.

As may be supposed, under such conditions, the straw is not very inviting. It soon becomes verminous, and this deplorable state of affairs becomes worse the longer the straw is in use. In fact it becomes alive with lice. In one instance I saw a dropped wisp so thickly encrusted with the parasites that it actually moved along the ground under the united action of the insects.

There is one inflexible law in German prisons. Under no pretence whatever must one prisoner enter the cell of another while it is occupied. This regulation is not to prevent conversation or communication between prisoners, but is for reasons which it is not necessary to describe. When one recalls the utter depravity which prevails in German military centres the wisdom of the ordination is obvious. The punishment is severe, the easiest being a spell of confinement upon a black bread and water diet, but generally and preferably clubbing into insensibility.

A few cells above me was a prisoner who had been incarcerated for fifteen years. Whether the whole of this time had been spent in Wesel or not I could not say, but when I came face to face with him for the first time he gave me a severe shock. He was a walking skeleton. Every bone in his body was visible, while his skin was the colour of faded parchment. He looked more like an animated mummy than a human being. I stood beside him one day in the corridor, and a bright ray of sunshine happened to fall across his face which was to me in profile. I started. His face was so thin that the cheek and jawbones were limned distinctly against the light, producing the effect of the X-ray photograph, while the sun shone clean through his cheeks. You could have read a paper on the off side of his face by the light which came through.

This prisoner unnerved me. From morning to night, as he paced his cell, he groaned dismally: not fitfully but continually. It was like the wail of a dog suffering excruciating agony, only a thousand times more irritating and nerve-racking. Even during the night he groaned, apparently in his sleep. Another day, when similarly paraded beside him, I asked if he would like a piece of black bread. He made no reply, but turned such a wolfish look upon me that I hastily told him to dive into my cell—No. 11. He watched the guard for a second, and while all backs were turned he was gone and back beside me with the prize which he clutched in his hand. I have never seen such a rapid movement. He slid into the cell like a shadow and as stealthily and as quickly returned. This poor wretch doubtless enjoyed this unexpected addition to his quantity of food, since he was apparently being given just enough to keep him alive, and no more. Otherwise he could never have become so fearfully thin.

Once again I was to receive another shock from my mysterious prisoner who had acted as interpreter. On Thursday he came to my cell in the uniform of a warder. Consequently I saw a good deal of him, and, he being friendly, we had many brief snatches of surreptitious conversation. He was highly intelligent, well-educated and sympathetic. I enquired as to how he happened to be in our unsalubrious avenue. He informed me that he was awaiting the Kaiser's pardon. His offence was not heinous. He had not responded to his country's call, upon mobilisation, with the celerity which the officials declared he should have shown. As a punishment he was committed to the cells for three days. Upon the expiration of this sentence he had been made under-gaoler. His name was M——, and he told me he had a prosperous business outside Germany.

I was on the tip-toe of anticipation and suppressed excitement throughout Thursday and Friday, hoping for news concerning the decision of the Tribunal. But when Friday passed without my receiving any tidings I commenced to get fidgety and anxious. My feelings were not assuaged by hearing volleys ring out every morning, followed by a death-like stillness. These reports appeared to stifle the cries and groans of the prisoners a little while. To me the sounds presaged serious news. Apparently there were several prisoners condemned for spying, and each volley, I was told, signified the flight of one or more hapless souls. My spirits were not revived by noticing the cells on either side of me rapidly emptying, while the little party which went down into the yard in the morning began to dwindle in numbers very rapidly.

When the head-gaoler came round on Friday night I decided to tackle him. The suspense was becoming intolerable. By this time he had become somewhat more friendly towards me, and if in the mood would talk for a brief while.

"Were any other prisoners tried on Wednesday as spies?" I asked innocently.

"Jah! All day!"

"How many?"

"May-be twenty-three!"

"How many have been shot?"

"Ach! I cannot give prisoners news of that kind. But I can tell you that there are three left, and you are one of them!"

I smiled to myself at the gaoler's rigid observance of the letter of German prison law to refuse news to prisoners, yet giving the desired information in an indirect manner.

"When shall I hear the result of my trial?"

"Trial? You have not been tried yet!"

"What? You must be mistaken. I was tried on Wednesday night!"

"That wasn't the trial. That was the enquiry!"

"Then when will the trial come off?"

"You'll learn the result of the trial soon enough!" and he slammed the door to prevent further discussion.

I was completely flabbergasted. I scratched my head and endeavoured to collect my thoughts. Surely I could not have heard aright. Yet the man must know what he was talking about. The more I pondered the more perplexed I became. Then the head-gaoler's stress upon the word "result!" What did that portend? New fears crept into my mind. So when M——, the under-gaoler, came round next morning, I badgered him, but he would say no more than that the trial had not yet come off.

I was completely unnerved and now commenced to fear the worst. If the ordeal I experienced on the Wednesday night was not the trial, then what on earth was it? I made up my mind to find out. I rang the bell wildly and demanded to see the Commandant. He sent down word to say he could not see me. But I was insistent, and at last, to avoid further worry, he conceded an audience.

As I entered the office of the Commandant I was surprised to see him handling my little camera. At my entrance he slipped it into his desk. He looked at me curiously, and then grunted,

"What do you want?"

"I wish to know when my trial is coming off. I thought I was tried last Wednesday night."

"No! That was the enquiry. We'll let you know the result of the trial pretty quickly," and he grinned complacently, in which little pleasantry at my expense the officer of the guard joined in.

"I don't want to know the result! I want to be there!"

"That is impossible. You gave all your evidence before the enquiry!"

"Then don't I appear at my trial?"

"Certainly not!"

I was completely non-plussed at this confirmation of the head-gaoler's statement. It was a new way, to my mind, of meting out justice to a prisoner to deny him the right to appear at his own trial. Truly the ways of Teuton jurisprudence or military court procedure were strange.

"Then when will my trial be held?" I asked, determined to glean some definite information.

"Ach! We cannot be bothered with a single case whilst mobilisation is going on. We are too busy. You must wait," and with that he dismissed me.

"But surely you can give me some idea when it will be held," I persisted.

"Ach!" and he fumed somewhat. Seeing that I was not to be turned away without satisfaction he continued, "Your trial will be on Monday. Get out!"

My reflections upon gaining my cell may be imagined. I could not resist dwelling upon the methods of German justice, and I commenced to conjure up visions of the trial from which I was to be absent, and to speculate upon the final result. What would it be? I saw the heavy disadvantage under which I was labouring, and as may be supposed my thoughts turned to the blackest side of things. I had another forty-eight hours of suspense in solitary confinement to bear.

To take my mind off the subject I set to work sketching an ornate design upon the prison wall with a safety pin which I had picked up unobserved. In the perpetual twilight which prevailed during the day in my cell I drew, or should it be engraved? a huge Union Jack intertwined with the Royal Standard, surmounted by the crown of Great Britain and the Royal Arms. It occupied considerable time, but I took a quaint delight in it. It successfully moved my thoughts from my awkward position, although at nights I kept awake for hours on end turning over in my mind my chances of acquittal and condemnation, more particularly the latter.

On Sunday I applied for permission to attend church, but after a long official discussion the request was refused. The prison had no facilities for administering spiritual pabulum to a British prisoner. This was a mere excuse, because several of the other prisoners attended church. How I passed that day it is difficult to record. I paced my cell in a frenzy until I could pace no longer. I completed my design on the wall, fumbled with my fingers, and dozed. But the hours seemed to drag as if they were years. By now I was so overwrought that I declined to send out for my dinner.

Monday was worse than Sunday. Throughout the day I was keyed to a high pitch of nervous expectancy. I could scarcely keep a limb still. Every sound made me jump, and I kept my eyes glued to the door, momentarily expecting to gain some tidings of how my trial had gone. When the gaoler entered with my meals and stolidly declined to enter into conversation, I grew more and more morose, until at last I can only compare my feelings with those of an animal trapped and at bay, waiting and ready to land some final, fearful blow before meeting its fate.

Early in the evening of the Monday I was pacing my cell, a bundle of twitching nerves, when the door opened to admit an officer. I almost sprang towards him. I was to learn the truth at last. But he had not come from the Court.

"Do you feel hungry?" he asked, not unkindly.

"No." I answered feebly, my heart heavy within me. As a matter of fact I was so overwrought with anxiety that I failed to feel the pangs of hunger.

"Well," he went on, "you can have what you like."

Thump went my heart again. The verdict had certainly gone against me. For what other reason had I been offered what I liked to eat? It sounded ominous. It recalled our practice in Britain where a condemned man is given his choice of viands on the morning of his execution. Most assuredly I was going to be shot on the following morning, and daybreak was not far distant.

"I should certainly have something to eat if I were you," suggested the officer.

"Oh, very well," I replied resignedly, "I'll have a roll, butter, and a black coffee."

Directly the officer had gone I rang the emergency bell. M——, the under-gaoler, answered it. With a tremendous effort I pulled myself together.

"So I'm going to be shot in the morning," I ventured, in the hope of drawing some comment.

"Ach! What? Lie down and keep quiet!" was his stolid retort.

"Look here! I want to write to my wife. Can you get me a pencil and a sheet of paper?"

"Impossible!"

"But I must write. She does not know where I am, and she will not know what has become of me!"

[*large gap]

German military prisons hold their secrets tightly.

But the time crept on and no guard appeared as I had been dreading. My drooping spirits revived because the hour of the day when prisoners were customarily shot had passed. When I went out into the yard on the Tuesday morning I chanced to meet the two Hindoos who had been arrested with me. Then I realised that they were two out of the three remaining spies. I was the third. They were in high spirits. When the guard was not looking they told me they had been acquitted of the espionage charge, and expected soon to be taken as far as the frontier to be released.

I was the only one left, and I had not been told the result of my trial. Yet these two Hindoo students who also had been before the Court on the Wednesday had learned the verdict in their cases. But I had been denied all communication. I regained my cell in a kind of stupor. To me it seemed that all was lost, and I fell into the depths of despair. When the friendly M—— came with my breakfast I pestered him with questions.

"Has the court been sitting?"

"Yes, all day Monday and all last night."

"Have you heard the result of my trial?"

"No."

"But the two Hindoos have been acquitted. Have I?"

"I cannot say," he replied sullenly.

The manner in which he avoided my eager look served to confirm my worst fears. I strove hard to draw something further from him, but he briefly remarked that he was forbidden to speak to prisoners.

I scarcely knew what to think. To me it was extraordinarily strange that the two Hindoos should have heard of their acquittal and yet no one seemed to know anything about my case. No! There was only one construction to be placed upon the situation. The Court had gone against me. My thoughts throughout that day were most unenviable. I fretted and fumed, wondering when it would all be over. My nerves started to twitch and jump, and within a short while I could not keep a limb still. The fearful suspense was certainly driving me mad.

Later in the day an escort arrived, and to my surprise and intense relief the officer informed me that I was not going to be shot. I took this for an acquittal, but I was speedily disillusioned. I was taken to the office of the Commandant.

Reaching this official I was surprised to see among a stack of other baggage my own belongings. The Commandant sharply ordered me to sort my things out, and to run through them to see that everything was intact. I could have danced for joy. Like an excited child I fell upon the baggage, disentangled my belongings, and ran through the contents. Two purses and a camera were missing. I reported my loss, and there was a terrific hullaballoo. Who had touched a prisoner's goods? The purses were brought in by the gaoler, who declared to me that, finding they contained money, he had put them in his pocket for safety. I smiled at his ingenuous excuse. Now I worried about the missing camera, but this defied discovery. Suddenly I remembered where I had seen it last and kept quiet.

After I had gathered my luggage together I was marched back to my cell. Again my spirits drooped upon being asked to give my English address. I saw it all! In my highly strung condition I took this latest expression of Teuton methods to mean that my goods were to be sent home, but that I would have to suffer some dire penalty. I nursed this dark imagining because the prison treatment was not relaxed one iota. I passed a restless half-hour. I was heavy-eyed from want of sleep, while my face had assumed a sickly, revolting pallor from rapidly collapsing health.

Again I was summoned to the Commandant's office. My goods were exactly as I had left them thirty minutes before.

[*large gap]

I was busily strapping up my goods when the door opened to admit the Commandant, guard and four other prisoners, whom I had not seen before. One tall, good-looking, sprucely dressed fellow impressed me. He looked like a fellow-countryman. I went up to him.

"Are you English?" I asked.

"Holy smoke! What a treat to hear an Englishman. 'Put it there,'" and he extended his hand. I proffered mine which he shook as if it were a pump handle. He with others had been arrested, not as spies, and had been detained in Wesel Arresthaus. But being wealthy he had experienced an easy time.

"What are they going to do with us?" I enquired.

"Why, haven't you heard? They're going to send us to a hotel and then it won't be long before we strike good old England once more!"

[*large gap]

The party were in high spirits. But I was not so elated. I had every occasion to be suspicious of German bluff and inwardly would only believe we were going home when I was safely out of the country. My fellow-countryman, F—— K——, who is a well-known figure in City commercial circles, was wildly excited, and was discussing his future arrangements very keenly.

An escort appeared to accompany us to the mysterious "hotel" about which the Commandant had been talking so glibly. We swung out of the prison. Glancing at the clock I saw the time was 8.30 p.m. As the main gate clanged behind me I pulled myself together, a new man. My eight days' solitary confinement had come to an end.

We tramped the street, the people taking but little notice of us. Presently we met a big party of tourists advancing and also under escort. They proved to be the passengers of the pleasure steamer Krimhilde, who had been detained. When they saw me, unkempt, ragged, blood-stained, and dirty they immediately drew away. They took me for an excellent specimen of the genus hobo. Within a few seconds however they learned something about my experiences and became very chummy. F—— K—— communicated the fact that we were bound for an hotel, and the spirits of one and all rose.

The escort who had accompanied us from the prison here handed us over to that accompanying the tourists and we marched to the station. A train was waiting and we stepped aboard at nine o'clock. There appeared to be as many soldiers as passengers. The members of my party confidently thought the train was bound for a point near the frontier or a restricted area by the seashore. But I was not to be lulled into a false sense of security. I questioned one of the officers and ascertained our destination. Returning to the party I laughingly asked, "Do you know for what hotel we're bound?"

"No! What is it? Where is it?" came the eager request.

"The military camp at Sennelager!"



PRISON TWO—SENNELAGER

THE BLACK HOLE OF GERMANY



CHAPTER VI

OUR "LUXURIOUS HOTEL"

Although it was 9.25 Tuesday evening when we boarded the train in Wesel station, en route for the "luxurious hotel where we were to receive every kindness consistent with the noblest traditions of German honour," there did not appear to be any anxiety to part with our company. There were about sixty of us all told, and we were shepherded with as pronounced a display of German military pomp and circumstance as would have been manifested if the All-Highest himself, had been travelling. Wesel station swarmed with officers and men who apparently had nothing else to do but to perambulate the platforms, the officers swaggering with typical Teuton arrogance, and the humble soldiers clattering to and fro in utter servility, merely emphasising their existence by making plenty of noise with their cumbrous boots and rifles.

At midnight the train started. The majority of my companions were the male passengers of military age who had been detained from the pleasure steamer Krimhilde while travelling up the Rhine. The military authorities in charge of the train received bulky sheafs of papers, each of which related to one passenger, and was packed with the most minute details. I am afraid my record must have been somewhat imposing, inasmuch as I commanded considerable and unappreciated attention from the military, while my fellow prisoners regarded me with a keen curiosity.

I must admit that my personal appearance was far from being attractive. I looked even more ragged, un-cared for, and ill than I was when facing my accusers at the midnight trial some days before. I was shirtless, collarless, and tie-less. My hair was matted and clotted with congealed blood freely mixed with dirt. My face, in addition to a week's growth of hair, was smeared with black marks which I had not been able to remove owing to my inability to get soap to wash myself with. My frock-coat and trousers, frayed at the bottoms, were sadly soiled and contrasted strangely with the fancy pattern tops of my patent boots. In fact, I admitted to the party, that "I must have looked a 'knut' of the finest type!" All things considered I am not surprised that at first I was shunned by one and all, both compatriots and the military guards.

Although the distance from Wesel to Paderborn—Sennelager is three miles outside the latter town—is only about 95 miles as the crow flies, the railway takes a somewhat circuitous route. Owing to the extensive movement of the troops we suffered considerable delay, the result being that we did not reach our destination until about mid-day on the Wednesday, the journey having occupied nearly twelve hours. The heat was unbearable, and confinement within the carriages, the windows of which were kept sedulously closed by order of the military, thus rendering the atmosphere within stifling, speedily commenced to affect some of the passengers. Each compartment carried seven prisoners, and the eighth seat, one of the windows beside the door, was occupied by a soldier—the guard of the compartment—complete with loaded rifle and fixed bayonet.

Sleep was out of the question, but this did not affect us seriously. We were somewhat excited, and spent the hours of the night in conversation and the exchange of experiences. In our party was an English gentleman, Mr. K——,[3] who held an important position in a large business house in one of the cities on the Rhine. Somehow he was attracted to me, moved, no doubt by my general appearance, and because I was now showing visible signs of my incarceration and experiences in Wesel prison. I may say that to Mr. K—— I undoubtedly owe my life, and I never can express my thanks sufficiently for his unremitting attention and kindness during my subsequent illness, as I narrate in due course. Moreover, during his sojourn among us he was a tower of strength, having long been resident in the country, and thoroughly conversant with the language and manners of the Germans.

[Footnote 3: The names and occupations of fellow-prisoners who are still in captivity are purposely disguised, because if the German authorities should happen to read this narrative, and be enabled to identify any of my compatriots who participated in any of the incidents recorded, they would receive treatment which would be decidedly detrimental to their welfare.—H.C.M.]

It was during this tedious train journey that he related the experiences of the passengers upon the unfortunate steamer Krimhilde. Many of the Englishmen who happened to be upon this boat had been held up for a week in various towns, owing to the stress of mobilisation. But at last permission was given by the authorities to proceed, and the delayed travellers were assured of an uninterrupted journey to England. Unfortunately the passage down the Rhine was impeded by fog, and this delay proved fatal. When it was possible to resume the journey, and while the steamer was making a good pace, a river patrol boat dashed up and ordered the captain of the steamer to stop, the reason being that no intimation had been received of the vessel's coming.

The captain protested, but at the point of the revolver he was compelled to turn round and return to the place which he had left only a few hours previously. The re-arrival of the Krimhilde at this point aroused considerable interest, and the authorities demanded the reason. The captain explained, but receiving a re-assurance that everything was in order and as originally expressed, he was free to travel down the river.

Again the journey was attempted and all went well until the boat was approaching Wesel. Then another patrol boat fussed up, the officer of which boarded the steamer. Again the captain presented his permit and expressed his determination to go ahead.

"We don't know anything about that," returned the boarding officer, referring to the permit. "My orders are to stop every vessel carrying Englishmen!"

The boarding-officer turned and ordered all the male prisoners to separate themselves from the ladies. Passports were produced upon demand and closely scrutinised. Then the officer, stepping back a few paces, beckoned the nearest man. His name was demanded to identify the passport and then a brief hurried cross-examination proceeded, culminating in the question:

"How old are you?"

"Thirty-eight!"

"Step this side!" retorted the officer, who proceeded to examine the succeeding passenger, to whom the self-same questions were repeated, the final interrogation being the passenger's age.

"Fifty-seven!" came the response.

The officer scanned the passport and finding the answer to be correct remarked, "Step over there!" indicating his left.

By the time the officer had completed his interrogations the male passengers were divided into two groups. Meanwhile the women and children had gathered round, following the proceedings, which appeared inexplicable to them, with a strange silence and a fearful dread.

"All you men of military age," continued the officer speaking to the group of younger-looking men, "are to go ashore. You will be detained as prisoners of war. You have ten minutes to pack your trunks and to say 'Good-bye!' So hurry up!"

At this intelligence a fearful hubbub broke out. The women and children who were to be separated from their husbands, fathers, and relatives gave way to lamentation and hysterical raving. While the men packed their trunks under official supervision their wives and children clung to them desperately. But the men realising that war is war, accepted the situation philosophically, even cheerfully. They were buoyed up by the official assurance that their detention was merely a matter of form, and that they would soon be released and free to proceed to their homes.

I may say that this is a favourite ruse followed by the Germans in all the camps in which I was interned, and I discovered that it was general throughout the country. It is always expressed whenever the Teutons see trouble brewing. Undoubtedly it is practised to keep the prisoners keyed up to a feverish pitch of hopefulness. Certainly it succeeded for a time, although such announcements at a later date, when we had seen through the subterfuge, were received with ironical cheering and jeers.

At such a sudden and summary cleavage between families many distressing and pathetic scenes were witnessed. On board there happened to be a wealthy young member of the Russian nobility—Prince L——. He was travelling with his sister and friends and was far from well.

The sister approached the officer and pleaded hard for her brother's release. It was refused. Grief-stricken the Princess fell on her knees and with tears streaming down her cheeks, kissed the officer's boots and offered all her jewels—they must have been worth a considerable amount of money—which she hastily tore off and held in her outstretched hands.

For the moment even the officer was somewhat moved. Then in a quiet, determined voice he remarked,

"I am exceedingly sorry, but I cannot grant your request. I am merely acting on my orders. But I can assure you that your brother in common with all the others here, will be looked after. Not a hair of their heads shall be injured. They will all be treated according to the best and noblest traditions of German honour,[4] and the regulations which have been drawn up among the Powers concerning the treatment of prisoners of war." With these words the Prince was cast aside with the others.

[Footnote 4: The traditions of German honour were dinned into our ears at every turn.—H.C.M.]

In another instance the wife and child of an Englishman, Mr. C——, refused to be parted. The wife clung round her husband's neck while the child held to his coat. She expressed her determination to go with her husband, no matter what might happen, and was on the verge of hysterics. Every one was moved and strove to coax her into quietness, while an officer even accompanied her off the boat with her husband. On the quay efforts were repeated to placate her and to induce her to allow her husband to proceed. But all in vain. At last, drawing the lady forcibly away, though with no greater force than was necessary, the officer himself attempted to console her.

"Do not worry. I will do all I can for you, and will see you do not want during the time your husband is interned."

What became of Mrs. C—— and her child just then I do not know, because at that moment the boat sheered off with a sorrowful and crying list of passengers who waved frantic farewells. Alas! I fear that in some instances that was the last occasion upon which husband and wife ever saw one another, and when children were parted from "daddy" for life.

Such was the story related by Mr. K——. After the boat had left, the detained prisoners, he explained, were formed up on the quay, and surrounded by an imposing guard with fixed bayonets, were marched off. It was a sad party. All that was dearest in life to them had been torn away at a few minutes' notice through the short-sightedness of Prussian militarism or the desire of the Road-hog of Europe to display his officialism and the authority he had enjoyed for but a few days. Many of these tourists, as one might naturally expect, were sorely worried by the thoughts as to what would become of their loved ones upon their arrival in England, many without money or friends to receive them. This was the discussion that occupied their minds when they were marching towards Wesel Station, and when the tiny party, of which I was one, being marched from Wesel prison, met them in the street, as already related.

As for ourselves we were soon destined to taste the pleasures of the best traditions of German honour. No provisions of any kind whatever had been placed on the train for our requirements. What was more we were denied the opportunity to purchase any food at any station where we happened to stop. At one point a number of girls pressed round the carriages offering glasses of milk at 20 pfennigs. As we were all famished and parched there was a brisk trade. But the moment the officers saw what was happening they rushed forward and drove the girls back by force of arms.

So far as our compartment was concerned we were more fortunate than many of our colleagues. Our soldier warden was by no means a bad fellow at heart. In his pack he carried his daily ration—two thick hunks of black bread. He took this out and instantly proffered one hunk to us, which we gladly accepted and divided among ourselves.

Those being the early days of the war the German soldier was a universal favourite among the civilians. Directly one was espied he became a magnet. The women, girls and elder men rushed forward and wildly thrust all sorts of comestibles into his hands. Unhappily we did not stop at many stations; our train displayed a galling preference for lonely signal posts, so that the chances of our guard receiving many such gifts were distinctly limited. But at one station he did receive an armful of broedchen—tiny loaves—which he divided amongst us subsequently with the greatest camaraderie.

But his comrades in other compartments were not so well-disposed. With true Prussian fiendishness they refused to permit their prisoners to buy anything for themselves, and to drive them to exasperation and to make them feel their position, the guards would ostentatiously devour their own meals and gifts. While we did not really receive sufficient to stay us, still our guard did his best for us, an act which we appreciated and reciprocated by making a collection on his behalf. When we proffered this slight recognition of his courtesy and sympathetic feeling he declined to accept it. [*gap] He was one of the very few well-disposed Germans I ever met.

Upon arriving at Sennelager Station we were unceremoniously bundled out of the train. Those who had trunks and bags were roughly bidden to shoulder them and to fall in for the march to the camp. The noon heat was terrible. The sun poured down unmercifully, and after twelve hours' confinement in the stuffy railway carriages few could stretch their limbs. But the military guards set the marching pace and we had to keep to it. If we lagged we were prodded into activity by means of the rifle.

Sennelager camp lies upon a plateau overlooking the railway, and it is approached by a winding road. The acclivity although somewhat steep is not long, but we, famished and worn from hunger, thirst, and lack of sleep, found the struggle with the sand into which our feet sank over our ankles, almost insuperable. Those burdened with baggage soon showed signs of distress. Many were now carrying a parcel for the first time in their lives and the ordeal completely broke them up. Prince L—— had a heavy bag, and before he had gone far the soft skin of one hand had been completely chafed away, leaving a gaping, bleeding wound. To make matters worse the hot sand was drifting sulkily and clogging his wound set up untold agony.

Prince L—— made a representation to the officer-in-charge, showing his bleeding hand, but he was received with a mocking smirk and a curt command to "Move on!" The weaker burdened prisoners lagged, but the bayonet revived them. One or two gave out completely, but others, such as myself, who were not encumbered, extended a helping hand, half-carrying them up the hill.

Reaching the camp the Commanding Officer, a friendly old General whose name I never heard, hurried up.

"What's the meaning of this?" he blurted out in amazement.

"Prisoners of war for internment!" replied our officer-in-charge.

"But I don't know anything about them. I have received no instructions. There is no accommodation for them here!" protested the General.

Our officer produced his imposing sheaf of papers and the two disappeared into the office.

The feelings of the party at this intelligence may be conceived. The majority dropped, in a state of semi-collapse in the sand, their belongings strewn around them, utter dejection written on their faces.

After what I had experienced at Wesel I was prepared for anything. I had already learned the futility of giving way. I felt no inclination to sit or lie in the blistering sand. I caught sight of a stretch of inviting turf, made my way to it, and threw myself down upon it. But I was not to enjoy the luxury of Nature's couch. A soldier came bustling up and before I grasped his intentions I was hustled off, with the intimation that if I wanted to lie down I must do so in the sand.

The fact that no arrangements had been made for our reception was only too obvious. It was about noon when the two officers disappeared into the official building to discuss the papers referring to our arrival, and it was six in the evening before they had come to any decision. Throughout these six hours we were left lying on the scorching sand in the broiling sun without a bite of food. Seeing that many of us had eaten little or nothing since the early evening of the previous day it is not surprising that the greater part were knocked up. One or two of us caught sight of the canteen provided for the convenience of recruits, and succeeded in getting a few mouthfuls, but they were not worth consideration. I myself whiled away the time by enjoying a wash at the pump and giving myself the luxury of a shave. I bought a small cake of coarse soap and never enjoyed an ablution so keenly as that al fresco wash, shave, shampoo, and brush-up at Sennelager. When I came back thoroughly refreshed I had changed my appearance so completely that I was scarcely recognised. Even the soldiers looked at me twice to make sure I was the correct man.

Later a doctor appeared upon the scene. His name was Dr. Ascher, and as events proved he was the only friend we ever had in the camp. He enquired if any one felt ill. Needless to say a goodly number, suffering from hunger, thirst and fatigue, responded to his enquiry. Realising the reason for their unfortunate plight he bustled up to the Commanding Officer and emphasised the urgent necessity to give us a meal. But he was not entirely successful. Then he inspected us one by one, giving a cheering word here, and cracking a friendly joke there. The hand of Prince L—— received instant attention, while other slight injuries were also sympathetically treated. The hearts of one and all went out to this ministering angel, to whose work and indefatigable efforts on our behalf I refer in a subsequent chapter.

At last we were ordered to the barracks near by. It was a large masonry building, each room being provided with beds and straw upon the floor. Subsequently, however, we were moved to less comfortable quarters where there were three buildings in one, but subdivided by thick masonry walls, thereby preventing all intercommunication. Here our sleeping accommodation comprised bunks, disposed in two tiers, made of wood and with a sack as a mattress.

Whether it is my natural disposition or ancestral blood I do not know, but it has ever been my practice in life to emulate Mark Tapley and to see the humorous aspect of the most depressing situation. The "luxurious hotel," to which we were consigned according "to the best and most noble traditions of German honour," moved me to unrestrained mirth, when once I had taken in our surroundings. My levity fell like a cold water douche upon my companions, while the guards frowned menacingly. But to me it was impossible to refrain from an outburst of merriment. It was quite in accordance with German promises, which are composed of the two ingredients—uncompromising bluff and unabashed deliberate lying, leavened with a sprinkling of disarming suavity. I had tasted this characteristic at Wesel and frankly was not a bit surprised at anything which loomed up, always resolving at all hazards to make the best of an uncomfortable position.

Upon turning into our unattractive suite our first proceeding was to elect a Captain of our barrack. Selection fell upon Mr. K——, as he was an ideal intermediary, being fluent in the language. We turned in, the majority being too tired to growl at their lot, but there was precious little sleep. During the day, the heat at Sennelager in the summer is intolerable, but during the night it is freezing. Our arrival not having been anticipated, we had nothing with which to keep ourselves warm. A few days passed before the luxury of a blanket was bestowed upon us.

The morning after our arrival we drew up an imposing list of complaints for which we demanded immediate redress. We also expressed in detail our requirements, which we requested to be fulfilled forthwith. Then we decided to apportion this part of the camp for cricket, that for general recreation and so forth. By the time we had completed our intentions, all of which were carried unanimously, several sheets of foolscap had been filled, or rather would have been filled had we been possessed of any paper. This duty completed we set out upon an exploring expedition, intending to inspect all corners of the camp. But if we thought we were going to wander whither we pleased we were soon disillusioned. We were huddled in one corner and our boundaries, although undefined in the concrete were substantial in the abstract, being imaginary lines run between sentries standing with loaded rifles and fixed bayonets.

One and all wondered how we should be able to pass away the time. We could neither write nor read owing to a complete lack of facilities. Idleness would surely drive us crazy. Our recreations were severely limited, depending upon our own ingenuity. For the first few days we could do nothing beyond promenading, discussing the war and our situation. These two subjects were speedily worn thread-bare since we knew nothing about the first topic and were only able to speculate vaguely about the second. The idea of being made to work never entered our heads for a moment. Were we not civilian prisoners of war: the victims of circumstances under the shield of the best traditions of German honour?

But we were not the first arrivals at Sennelager. We were preceded by a few hours by a party of French soldiers—captives of war. They were extremely sullen. Travel and battle-stained they crouched and stretched themselves upon the ground. Whence they came I was never able to discover. One or two of our party who were versed in the French tongue endeavoured to draw them into conversation, but to no purpose. They either replied in vague monosyllables or deliberately ignored the questions. There is no doubt the poor fellows felt their early capture very sorely, and had accordingly sunk into the depths of despair. Sulky and morose they glared fiercely upon any approach, and when they did anything it was with an ill-grace impossible to describe. Indeed, they were so downcast that they refused to pay the slightest attention to their personal appearance, which accentuated their forbidding aspect.

Killing time as best we could, doing nothing soon began to reveal its ill-effects upon those who, like myself, had always led an active life. I approached Dr. Ascher, explained that idleness would drive me mad, and petitioned him to permit me to work in the hospital. I did not care what the job was so long as it effectively kept me employed. He sympathised with my suggestion and hurried off to the Commanding Officer. But he came back shaking his head negatively. The authorities would not entertain the proposal for an instant.

Suddenly we were paraded. Rakes and brooms were served out to every man and we were curtly ordered to sweep the roads. We buckled into this task. But the dust was thick and the day was hot. Soon we were all perspiring freely. But we were not permitted to rest. Over us was placed a bull-headed, fierce-looking Prussian soldier armed with a murderous looking whip. I should think he had been an animal trainer before being mobilised from the manner in which he cracked that whip. When he saw any one taking a breather up he came, glaring menacingly and cracking the whip with the ferocity of a lion-tamer. We evinced a quaint respect for that whip, and I firmly believe that our guardian inwardly fretted and fumed because he was denied the opportunity to lay it across our backs. Several of us nearly got it, however.

We were sweeping away merrily when, suddenly, we gave way to a wild outburst of mirth. One couldn't sweep for laughing. The guards around us looked on in wonder.

"Christopher! boys!" I at last blurted out, "We were talking just now about recreation, and were emphatic about what we were, and were not, going to do. I reckon this wants a lot of beating for recreation!" The oddity of the situation so tickled us that we had to collapse from laughter.

But a warning shout brought us to our feet. Mr. Mobilised Lion Tamer was bearing down upon us waving his whip. He lashed out. We saw it coming and dodged. By the time the thong struck the road we were brushing up dense clouds of dust, singing, whistling, and roaring the words, "Britons never shall be slaves!"

The dust screen saved us. It was so efficient that the furious guardian with the whip had to beat a hurried retreat.

One morning we were paraded at six o'clock as usual. The adjutant, another fierce-visaged Prussian, astride his horse, faced us. With assumed majesty he roared out an order. The guards closed in. What was going to happen now?

Amid a tense silence he shouted spluttering with rage:—

"You damned English swine! Yes! You English dogs! You are the cause of this war, and you will have to suffer for it. We could punish you severely. But that is not the German way. We could make you work. But the traditions of German honour forbid. Your Government has gouged out the eyes of German prisoners who have had the misfortune to fall into their hands. We don't propose to take those measures. While your Government has stopped at nothing we are going to show you how Germany fulfils the traditions of her honour, and respects the laws to which all civilised nations have subscribed. But remember! We are going to bring England to her knees. Aren't we, men?"

"Ja! Ja!" (Yes! Yes!) came the wild singing reply from the excited guards.



CHAPTER VII

BREAKING US IN AT SENNELAGER

No doubt the pompous adjutant plumed himself upon his tirade and the impression it had created among the guards. But at the time it was as so much Greek to us. We wondered what it all meant and what had prompted his strange speech.

It was not until my return home that I was able to appreciate the reason. But the bitterness with which he delivered his harangue certainly proved that he believed the stories which had evidently been sedulously circulated throughout Germany relative to the alleged mal-treatment and torture of German military prisoners by the British. Unfortunately, no steps apparently were taken to disprove these deliberate lying statements for which we had to pay the penalty.

But I was not reassured by the Adjutant's honeyed words concerning the example which Germany proposed to set to the British. I guessed that something which would not redound to our welfare and comfort was in the air. It is the German method to preach one thing and to practise something diametrically opposite. I had already learned this. Nor was I destined to be mistaken in my surmise.

A little later there was another parade. The officer roared,

"All those who are engineers step out!"

A number, including myself, although absolutely ignorant of the craft, stepped out, because here was the opportunity to secure some form of active employment.

"You are engineers?" he shouted.

We nodded assent.

"Can you build a drain?"

Again we nodded affirmatively.

We were marshalled, and one of us, Mr. C——, who was a civil engineer, was selected as leader. We were marched off and set to work to dig a drain for the camp.

We built that drain, but it was necessity's labour lost. We were not provided with proper drain pipes but made an open conduit. We had to go to the quarry to get the stone, which we broke into small pieces, and these were set out in concave form at the bottom of the trench we had excavated after the manner in which cobble stones are laid. I believe it was considered to be an excellent piece of work, but unfortunately it was of little use. The first wind and rain that came along dumped the sand into it with the result that it became filled up.

A day or two later there was another parade. Once more the officer stood before us with a long sheet of paper in his hand.

"All those who can do wire-pulling stand out!"

Those who knew about what he was talking advanced to form a little group.

"All those who are gardeners stand out!"

More men advanced and another group resulted.

The officer went right through his list calling out a long string of trades and callings. The result was our sub-division into a number of small units, each capable of fulfilling some task. A sentry was appointed to each group and we were hurried off to the particular toil for which we considered ourselves to be fitted, and about which I will say more later.

If the accommodation at the "luxurious hotel" was wretched the routine and cuisine were worse. We were under military discipline as it is practised in Prussia, and it was enforced with the utmost rigour. We were not permitted to speak to an officer under any pretext whatever. Any complaints or requests had to be carried to the authorities through our "Captain," who was also the officially recognised interpreter. If we met an officer we were commanded to raise our hats.

[*gap]

The day started at 6.0 a.m., with parade. If we desired to have a wash and shave we had to be astir an hour earlier because otherwise we were not allowed to perform those essential duties until late in the evening. After parade we had breakfast—a basin of lukewarm "coffee" made from acorns roasted and ground, which we had to fetch, and with which neither milk nor sugar was served.

At seven o'clock we started the day's work, which was continued without respite until mid-day. At least that was the official order, but one or two of the guards were far from being harsh towards us. In the middle of the morning, as in our case, the warder, after a wary look round, would ask if we would like to rest for ten minutes to snatch something to eat if we had it. Needless to say the slight respite was greatly appreciated. But it was by no means the general practice. One or two of the sentries were so deeply incensed against England that they took the opportunity to bait and badger the men in their charge without mercy. They kept the prisoners under them going hard without a break or pause.

At noon we returned to barracks for dinner. Arming ourselves with our basins we scrambled down to the cook-house for our rations. It was red-cabbage soup, and it was never varied. But it was the strangest soup I have ever seen made or tasted, more particularly during the early days.

There was a big cauldron with boiling water. Alongside was a table on which the cabbages were cut up. A handful of cabbage was picked up and dumped into the cauldron. Directly it hit the water the cabbage was considered to be cooked and was served out. Consequently the meal comprised merely a basin of sloshy boiling water in which floated some shreds of uncooked red cabbage. Sometimes the first batch of men succeeded in finding the cabbage warmed through: it had been left in the water for a few seconds. But the last batch invariably fared badly. The cooks realising that there would be insufficient to go round forthwith dumped in two or three buckets of cold water to eke it out. Sometimes, but on very rare occasions, a little potato, and perhaps a bone which had once been associated with meat, would be found in the basin lurking under a piece of cabbage leaf. Ultimately some French and Belgians were put in charge of the kitchen. Then there was a slight improvement. The cabbage was generally well-cooked and the soup was hot. But although these cooks did their best, it did not amount to much, for the simple reason that the authorities would not permit any further ingredients whatever.