A TRIP DOWN THE HARBOR OF HAMBURG.
My most unique experience in Germany was my trip down the Harbor of Hamburg, for strangers are absolutely forbidden near the docks, and foreigners poking around are arrested. My trip was made just by chance.
An American girl and I took a trip up to Hamburg Christmas week last year. I was offered letters of introduction to people there, but I said we didn't want them, that we were going only for fun, and we didn't want to be bothered by meeting strange people. I had been in Hamburg once several years before, but neither of us knew much about the place.
The first evening, or rather afternoon—it was dark at four o'clock—that we were there, we started out for a walk. We went through St. Pauli, the famous sailor quarter, where in times of peace the sailors spent their time when their ships were in port. As this was Christmas week, the shooting galleries and side-shows were open, but the places were not crowded, as it was too early. Only a few soldiers, sailors and children were walking about the place.
One place had a figure of a soldier in the window. He was stepping into a room where a woman was holding a little baby in her arms. On a card was printed what the soldier was saying, "Excuse me, young man, but I would like to make your acquaintance. I am your dad."
Sailors Learning to Do a Washing in the Seamen's School at Hamburg.
We branched off the main street of St. Pauli and went up a side street. It was pitch dark, and the streets were not well lighted. At the end of this street we came to some steps at the bottom of which was a foot-bridge that led to the water's edge. In the distance on the other side of the water was what looked like a great city of lights. We both held our breath when we saw this place—it looked like New York when you cross on the ferry. And ferry-boats were shooting all over the water. Great iron beams with regular rows of lights on their sides made them look like sky scrapers.
"It's New York! It's home!" cried my excited companion.
Great crowds of workmen—hundreds, thousands of them—were coming up the foot-bridge. They had come over on the ferry. I had my geography all mixed up and I said, "That is Altona over there. Let's go down and take a ride on the ferry and pretend that we are landing in New York."
The Sailors' School for the Merchant Marine.
We hurried down the narrow foot-bridge. The men that were hurrying up bumped into us. At the foot of the bridge was a ticket place. An elderly man in a blue uniform was standing beside it. We rushed over to him and asked, "Are we allowed to go over to Altona on the ferry."
Vegetable Market.
He looked at us and then laughed and answered us in English: "That is not Altona. That is the great Hamburg docks. Where do you want to go?"
We told him that we did not know where we wanted to go, but that it looked so much like New York that we wanted to ride over.
It was a bitter cold winter night between Christmas and New Year's, and if he thought that we were either crazy or spies he never let on.
"Have you passports?" he asked.
We showed our papers, and he told us that if we promised to stay on the boat and to come back to him he would let us go. We promised, and he wrote our names, our Hamburg, Berlin and American addresses, our age and religion in a book, and he told us to buy a ticket.
The round trip cost five pfennigs, and the old man escorted us to the ferry and talked to us until the boat was ready to start. He said that night and day 15,000 men were employed on the docks, and that besides all the men coming over on the boats many more came over through a tunnel that ran under the water. He said that they were building many boats, and that the "Bismarck" would be the largest boat afloat—55,000 tons—and that the "Tirpitz" would be 32,000 tons, and that so far during the war there had been made a total tonnage of new boats of 740,000 tons and that 100,000 tons were under construction. Then he told us about the school for sailor boys at Finkenwerder where boys were being trained as sailors, not for war but for the merchant marine after the war. I said that I thought this was certainly very enterprising.
Goulash Cannon Factory.
I did not realize what a wild night it was until our boat got started. The ferry tipped up and down, and the wind was like a knife. Boats were scooting all over the harbor, and we had a time to keep from bumping into things.
A boy of about twelve years was attending to the landings. He was a tough little kid, and he smoked one cigarette after another. And how he could swear! We wanted to ask him some questions, but neither of us had the courage. But finally he came over to us and almost blowing a puff of smoke into my face he said: "He is an old cab-driver and a Schreihals, and I hate him." He pointed to the pilot.
When our boat came to the second landing it slid under the end of a great black thing that hung over us. "That is the 'Imperator,'" said our sailor boy. It had been raised up out of the water to keep it from rotting, and this made it look bigger than ever. Some of its port holes showed lights. Just back of the "Imperator" the boy pointed out the "Bismarck." What a monster it was! It was all lighted up with electric lights. We could see workmen moving around on it, and we could hear the click of their hammers. The "Tirpitz" could hardly be seen. It lay beyond the "Bismarck" and the pelting snow blinded our view.
We passed all sorts of boats, cruisers, torpedo boats, supply boats, and steamers. I have never seen such a busy place as that harbor.
The Crowds in the Hamburg Exchange.
"You are foreigners," said the boy, "and the old boss on the docks doesn't allow foreigners out here. But I suppose he saw that you were girls and you wouldn't know much. We have got to be careful of spies. We have arrested twenty already. The last one I spotted myself. He was drawing a plan on a paper. I can tell you nothing gets by me. I can see you two are harmless."
We made a circle around the harbor. When we came near the cruisers, coming back, one of the biggest ones broke loose from the group and began to move slowly away.
"Do you see that?" said the boy, "she is going out again. She has been here for three weeks. She has been in many a fight. I can tell you she is a devil." The boat had but a few lights showing, and in a minute she was lost in the darkness.
On our ferry coming back were several hundred workmen. They were not cripples but big strong men. When we got off the dock at St. Pauli they all jumped off and ran. We ran too, for we were nearly frozen stiff. The old man in blue was waiting for us, and with chattering teeth we thanked him and told him how much we had enjoyed our trip.
"Wouldn't you like to come in and get warmed up a bit?" he asked and he took us into a little office where a great fire was burning. He talked to us about America. I think he must have been a mate on a steamer.
View of a Grain Storage at Hamburg.
It was just six o'clock when we ran up the foot-bridge. A boat-load of workmen ran up with us. At the top we stood a minute and looked out over the harbor. A sea of lights! A bay of boats! More workmen! The old man in blue had said: "We are getting ready for the Hamburg of to-morrow."