The big space in front of the theatre held a huge crowd, as it did every night, and a cinema projector threw the newest war bulletins in garish letters across a blank wall. As was to be expected, Russia had again achieved one of her famous victories. The English had annihilated the army of the Crown Prince! The crowd was yelling with delight. Battle pictures followed. First some English and French warships, then suddenly, the German cruiser Goeben. The people raved, whistled, hissed, shouted—the din was endless. So much for the neutral Americans, so anxious to uphold the rights of men and the ends of Justice!
Until now all my efforts to reach Europe had been fruitless. I had imagined that my task would be easier. Once I nearly succeeded in sailing on a Norwegian boat as an ordinary sailor; but was dissuaded, as there were several Englishmen in her crew. At last I got what I wanted. By chance I made the acquaintance of a man who had led a rather stormy existence. He had been all over the world, and had lived for a long time in New York. I was never really quite able to ascertain his real occupation. However, he was very successful at one particular job—which consisted in polishing up old passports. We quickly concluded our bargain. In a few hours I had my papers with my photograph neatly pasted in, and all the proper police notifications entered according to existing regulations. And in this wise the Swiss traveller, locksmith, Ernst Suse, went on board the neutral Italian steamboat Duca degli Abruzzi on the 30th of January 1915, and disappeared into the steerage.
Two hours later we passed the statue of Liberty. Five sea miles out of New York two English cruisers were watching the mouth of the harbour. A shining example of the Freedom of the Seas! The journey was abominable. Though I had been trained in a rough school as a naval officer aboard a T.B.D. I had never dreamed of anything like it. The ship was heavily overweighted, and pitched and tossed to such a degree that I was convinced that she would capsize under the impact of the heavy seas. And the bugs! But I shall go into that later. On the morning of the third day of our journey I stood on deck and gazed longingly at the first-class railings over which two charming little faces were looking down at me. A gentleman approached them, and with difficulty I suppressed the name which sprang to my lips. For I knew him; it was——
Doubt was impossible. It was my brother officer T., who had come with me from Shanghai. He saw me at the same moment, but only recognized me after he had exchanged some very loud remarks with the ladies about the filthy fellow down below (meaning myself). Suddenly he stopped, stared hard at me, smiled knowingly, after which he suddenly turned away and disappeared.
In the evening, when darkness had completely fallen, I had an opportunity of a short talk with him. He was travelling as a distinguished Dutchman (of course he did not speak a single word of Dutch), and his destination, like mine, was Naples, and from thence homewards. Though we had both met daily in New York, each intent on getting home, we had been obliged by our respective helpers to keep what we did a dead secret from each other. And we now learned that we had both been to the same man!
Some days after leaving New York I suddenly went down with a high temperature, and had to take to my bed. I did not know what was the matter with me, but presumed malaria, and so did the Italian doctor, who gave me a ridiculously large dose of quinine. I did not have to wait long for the result, as I promptly grew worse, and my temperature rose to 103°. These days were indescribable. Our cabin, a veritable hole, was shared by four passengers. Above me lay a Frenchman who only stopped gabbling and cursing when he was sea-sick. The lower berth was occupied by a pale and resigned Swiss (his nationality at once awoke my suspicions). This man was so sea-sick that it was my opinion he would never reach Europe alive. In the upper, left-hand berth a perfectly rabid Englishman smoked his pipe of Player’s Navy Cut unremittingly day and night, in spite of the closed portholes. He was nearly always drunk and unable to cease his abuse and revilings against Germany for one moment. It is easy to imagine how much rest I got! To cap it all, my berth lay close to the engines, and the bugs were the worst item of the programme. And these dreadful pests did not come singly, but in battalions. Oh, what were the noises, the horrible smells and the sea-sickness compared to this plague! In spite of my exhausting weakness I tried to destroy or to drive away the loathsome insects. But I was soon forced to give up in despair.
After that I relapsed into complete indifference. I told myself that the voyage would be over in a few days, and as soon as we had reached beautiful Italy, and I had given myself a short rest, I should be back in my beloved Fatherland. I fought off my illness with the utmost energy, and the thought of Germany aided my convalescence, so that when the ship reached Gibraltar on the 8th of February I was able to be up and about.
Gibraltar!
How many times already had I sailed past this Rock, how often had I, returning from foreign parts, tendered joyous welcome to the grey stones, the sign-post, in these straits to the faithful homeland! What was in store for me this time? In spite of the fact that the time-table made no provision for calling at Gibraltar, the ship entered the port for examination, without even awaiting a request to do so, and dropped anchor. To this extent had the Italians already become the slaves of the English! As soon as the ship lay to, two pinnaces descended upon us, from which emerged an English naval officer and sundry policemen and sailors armed to the teeth. A bell was sounded all over the ship, with the order that all foreign passengers, who were neither English nor Italian, should assemble on the pilot bridge. The Italian stewards went below, inspected the ship’s hold and all the cabins, and drove us like a herd of sheep to the upper deck, where we were closely surrounded by them and the English sailors. I cannot pretend that I felt particularly happy! In spite of this I experienced a certain amount of confidence, as I soon found out that I was the only one equipped with a genuine passport and photograph. On the other hand, I established the fact that we were five Swiss, three of whom had already excited my suspicion on account of their shy and retiring disposition. There was only one whom I had not noticed at all, and he looked so dirty and repulsive that I took the precaution of moving away when he placed himself beside me. After an hour, during which the first-class passengers were examined—casually, and with great politeness—our turn came. We stood there like six miserable sinners. The first one was an Italian-Swiss workman, who had lost his right arm. His wife, a typical Italian, prostrated herself wailingly at the Englishman’s feet. She was accompanied from the steerage by her whole tribe, and they all wailed. The Englishman looked contemptuously at those people, and after a short examination the man was dismissed and free to go. We had now to advance. The tallest amongst us Swiss stood on the right wing. The English officer went up to him and said: “You are a German officer.” Violent and indignant protestations naturally followed; but the English officer, whom they left quite cool, ordered him aside and turned to us—we seemed more like the genuine article in his sight. We pointed to our passports, and each one of us dished up a wondrous yarn. After a short pause he said: “All right; these four can go, but I will keep that one.”