CHAPTER IV 'MYSTERY' CARGO AND CAMOUFLAGE EQUIPMENT
As Casement had expressed a very strong objection against accompanying us in the Libau, it was finally decided to place a submarine at his disposal. He had with him two companions, Lieutenant Monteith and the Irish sergeant, Bailey. The latter turned out in the sequel to be a thorough-paced scoundrel. The submarine was to put Casement, with his companions, on board the Libau at a rendezvous in Tralee Bay, and I was then to proceed in under his instructions.
As a still further precaution against the aims and destination of the Libau becoming known, it had also been decided that I was on the following day to leave Wilhelmshaven and proceed to the Baltic. The goods-trains with our cargo of arms and munitions, which had been waiting for days on the sidings of various stations in Central Germany, without the railway authorities knowing anything about their destination, were, the following night, ordered by telegram to Lübeck, so that they arrived almost at the same time as we did.
By two o'clock in the afternoon we were on our way down the Jade. Officers in command of guardships and barriers had had orders to let us pass without hindrance or delay.
Off the 'Roter Sand' lighthouse, which so often in thick weather had given us guidance—not seldom at the very last moment—the first metamorphosis took place. The secret hatchway was opened and a couple of large boxes brought up, the contents of which we proceeded to spread out on deck. These consisted of complete outfits of clothing for the crew; Norwegian uniforms, i.e. plain blue suits, caps, sweaters, linen, etc., all genuine down to the smallest detail. Even the black buttons were stamped with the name of a Norwegian firm!
In a few minutes the dressing-up was complete, and the result was not without its comic side, for, while some of us looked very like Scandinavians, others looked like nothing on earth, for of course not all the garments were adapted to the size of the wearers. One of the stokers, a tall Bavarian, asked indignantly why the stokers did not get fine big knives like the seamen. When I explained to him that these were only for work, and that later on all would have proper daggers and pistols, he was visibly reassured. One consequence of this metamorphosis was that henceforward all military smartness of bearing and movement had to be dropped, for in order to be able to play our parts properly we must gradually accustom ourselves to tramp-ship ways. I had supposed that this would come easy to the men, but that was not the case; and I must say that, desirable as it was under present circumstances, I could not help being pleased to see how extraordinarily difficult it was to get rid of the military polish. I was sorry my former chief was not there to observe it. However, they learned in time to drop the heel-clicking, call me Cap'n, instead of 'Herr Leutnant,' talk a low German lingo that might pass, at a pinch, for Norwegian, and let their beards grow.
We signalled good-bye to a group of outpost boats on their way in, and once more entered the Elbe. In the night we passed through the Kiel Canal. Next morning saw us off the Bulk lightship, and a little later we steamed, in glorious spring weather, through the Fehmarn Sound. A few hours later we were in Lübeck.
In calling on the firm of shipping agents which had been entrusted with the loading and outfitting of the Libau, I decided to assume my rôle of merchant captain, but the first attempt was something of a fiasco. Clad in the go-ashore kit proper to my status, I entered the private office of the firm, only to be greeted with a respectful 'Good morning, Commander'—a nasty jolt! I stuck to it, however, and the interview passed through various stages of incredulity, indignation at my avoidance of military service, and irritation at my boorish manners. In the end, however, we understood each other excellently, and I here record with gratitude the valuable aid I received from the firm and their confidential employees in the fitting out of the Libau.
The main difficulty was the stowage of the cargo. Even allowing for the quantities of coal and water which would be used in the course of the voyage, the draft which we were not to exceed at our arrival in Ireland was extremely small; and the cargo, in order to be capable of being, if necessary, quickly got out, with very little in the way of help and appliances, had to be stored in a manner contrary to accepted principles and usages. As a result of that, the Libau was so top-heavy that if we encountered stormy weather, there was a great danger of her capsizing. I had perforce, therefore, to make up my mind to increase the dead-weight, which was already considerable, by another two hundred tons of coal. That had, on the other hand, the advantage that I might quite possibly find an excellent use for this 'ballast' later, and how necessary it was, for the immediate purpose the sequel was to show. Without it we should infallibly have been lost off the Rockalls.
As with all the people that we were obliged to employ, the stevedore's men were all carefully chosen. After coal, provisions, water, and so forth had been put on board, they got to work on the stowage of the cargo. Piece by piece had to be lowered into the hold with the greatest care, lest any of the cases should break, for it was highly important that no one should know what was in them. The cases were, for this reason, marked with the usual black and red shippers' marks. The men must, of course, have smelt a rat, for what could be the object of sending to sea at this time a German cargo-steamer with piece-goods marked with names like Genoa and Naples? In any case, I thought it as well to put it abroad here, too, that the Libau was going to Libau! Of course, this was whispered under the strictest seal of secrecy, for then we could be sure that it would go all round the town. I myself let out once in conversation that I was going to take troops aboard in Libau, which were to carry out a 'coup' in Finland. That sounded quite credible. No later than next morning I was asked confidentially by one of the gentlemen who had to do with the fitting-out, whether it was true that I was going to embark troops at Libau for Finland; it was, he said, being reported in the town. Imagine my astonishment! I could only hope that the rumour would come to the ears of some English spies, and if in addition the Russians were on the look-out for us at Libau, then everything was in the best possible train.
And now there suddenly appeared in the living-rooms of the Libau all sorts of genuine Norwegian equipment, whenever possible stamped with the name of a firm; and even Norwegian books and the latest Christiania papers. It was a pity, but it could not be avoided, that a number of Scandinavian ships were lying in harbour with us. All suspicious objects of any kind were now packed away in the hold with the 'entrance through the sofa bunk,' the 'conjurer's box,' as the men christened it.
This 'conjurer's box' was to be very useful to us later. The whole of the German equipment, which we had to have with us but were obliged during the voyage to keep hidden from prying eyes—uniforms, arms, explosive and incendiary bombs, all German nautical instruments, books, charts, flags (including the numerous flags of foreign nations which we might have to use)—all found their way into this compartment.
We had supplies enough, all told, to keep us easily for six months—with the exception of coal, of course, which was calculated to last forty-five days.
The lavishness of our equipment was in part due to the fact that we had to have two or three sets of almost all articles of everyday use—German, English, and, above all, Norwegian—from the compass down to the smallest sardine-tin. In case the ship should be searched, any small object of German origin, even a trouser-button with the name of a German firm stamped on it, might serve to betray us.
Nothing was lacking. We even carried one of the curiously shaped Norwegian whalers on deck. Arms, tools of every kind, electric pocket-lamps, surgical dressings, a plentiful supply of bunting, colours, brushes, and sail cloth, with which the appearance of the ship could be altered as required, wood and cement for various purposes, bed-linen, curtains, and crockery, in short, everything, just of the kind used on Norwegian ships, was provided.
It need hardly be mentioned that we also possessed one or two German naval ensigns and pendants. All tubs, chests, and tins of preserved meat that bore Norwegian inscriptions, were assigned places in particularly conspicuous positions.
We were especially well-found in the matter of ship's papers. Besides German papers for our own consulates in neutral countries, which might eventually come in useful, we had an excellently assorted stock of Norwegian Ship's logs and Engine-room logs, Articles, Certificates, Manifests, Bills of Lading, etc., on board, which served to authenticate the ship, crew, and cargo, and whose genuineness was beyond suspicion. In addition, there were a number of letters, including one of particular interest from my hypothetical owners in Bergen. In this I was requested, before leaving Christiania, to take on board with all speed a consignment of pit-props for Cardiff, which had arrived at the last moment, and on which my owners, in view of the keen demand in England, expected to make a handsome profit. My owners also urged me strongly, in contravention of the English regulations, not to follow the usual steamer track, but to make a point of keeping clear of it, since it was precisely on this track that the German submarines had lately been making such terrible havoc. This letter might serve—provided I found the right kind of idiot to work it off on—or at least might help, to explain the unusual route which I was to follow.
After the main cargo, consisting of arms and munitions, had been got on board, we proceeded to the stowing of the 'camouflage cargo.' This consisted, in addition to the above-mentioned pit-props, of tin baths, enamelled steel ware in cases, wooden doors, window frames, and similar useful articles. These all bore shippers' marks, indicating their destination as Genoa or Naples. It need hardly be mentioned that only this camouflage cargo appeared on the manifest and bills of lading, for its mission in life was to distract attention from our other and dangerous cargo. For this reason also it was stored above the other cargo, in such a way that it could only be moved with the greatest difficulty, and it was only after penetrating several feet down that one came to the munitions.
While these operations had been going on below, my first mate and his men had been busily engaged in giving the ship the appearance of a common tramp. Everywhere, both on hull and upper-works, shone patches of red-lead, the number of which is generally in inverse proportion to the size of the ship. To be in character, no stress was laid henceforward on cleanliness or order.
The name Libau had been painted out. Now that the rumour about our intended landing in Finland had got round, it could, of course, cause no surprise that we should conceal our name, for fear of Russian spies!
Meanwhile I had spent several days in Berlin, where all sorts of important matters had still to be settled. It was even yet not certain that the expedition would take place at all. In twenty-four hours more, however, it was to be decided. Heavily laden with packages of all kinds, I locked myself in, by way of precaution, in a reserved carriage, and left Berlin accompanied by the best wishes of those interested in the success of our voyage. On the very evening of my return, I received telegraphic orders to proceed to sea. Thank Heavens, the uncertainty was over at last.
Next morning we were ready for sea. The time of sailing I had, for certain reasons, fixed at six p.m. As the very last item in our equipment there was brought on board at midday a large dog, of quite 'unquestionable' breed. Old and decrepit as he was, he was nevertheless a dog; and a dog is a thing that a tramp steamer cannot be without. So I had hastily purchased him at the last moment.
The one thing still lacking to our completeness was some kind of knowledge of the Norwegian tongue! For that we must look to the help of Providence, not to mention—supposing the next few days allowed us time—a pocket vocabulary which I had provided, to be on the safe side. The absence of this linguistic knowledge could not disturb our confidence; at the worst one could make shift to carry it off with 'Platt-Deutsch.'[2] The English are no great heroes in the linguistic field. If it should be our lot to be examined later on by an English ship which did not happen to have a Norwegian interpreter on board—though that, of course, was a possibility on the Norwegian coast—it was possible the bluff might come off.