Immediately after our arrival a tender came alongside and conveyed us to terra firma—of course under imposing escort.
The English authorities were evidently unprepared for such a large consignment of prisoners. They simply lost their heads. No one knew what to do with us, no one what to advise.
At last we were packed into a train. I got a compartment to myself, flanked on either side by a non-commissioned officer, and with another one sitting opposite me, with fixed bayonets. They had been given strict injunctions to watch me carefully, for the following reason: when I saw that it was quite impossible that I should be set free or recognized as a Swiss, I had reported myself to my Commanding Officer in my true colours, the others doing likewise. He assured me that he would transfer me at once to the first class, if I would give him my parole never to try to escape or to fight again in the war. As I naturally rejected this demand with the utmost indignation, I was sent back to the cargo-deck, the only result being a stricter surveillance.
In the evening, at dusk, we reached Portsmouth. At the station and elsewhere this huge quantity of prisoners (we were fifty-six in all) seemed to bewilder everybody completely.
At last we were marched off to the lock-up. There also we found great bewilderment and confusion. The lock-up usually affords a temporary domicile to drunken soldiers and sailors who are picked up in the streets, and who have an opportunity of sleeping off their intoxication until the next day, when they are sent back to their platoon after a sound thrashing [sic]. An old, obnoxious jailer, and two elderly but jovial and kindly soldiers, were in charge. We were disposed of in three rooms. They were totally empty, and lit by a miserable gas jet. The window-panes were mostly broken, it was bitterly cold, and there was, of course, no fire. We had eaten nothing all day, and were looking forward to our supper, but there was no supper. Thereupon we approached our two old soldiers and promptly sealed our pact of friendship. A small tip acted miraculously—the old fogies simply scampered off on our errands. We gave them money, and in half an hour they returned, groaning under a load of bread, butter and cold meat. Two huge pots of tea, mixed with milk and sugar, made their appearance. We got some charcoal ourselves, and soon the three fireplaces were ablaze. The provisions were excellent, and so abundant that even we, famished as we were, could not deal with the lot.
Our spirits reached their zenith when the soldiers slipped us in a few English newspapers. Our mental hunger had been greater than our physical needs, as for weeks we had heard nothing whatsoever about the happenings of the outer world. We did not mind reading exclusively of English, French and Russian victories, as long as we at least knew something of what was going on.
Alcohol was forbidden; but even in England rules seemed made only to be broken. One of our warders belonged to a masonic lodge, members of which were widely distributed over England and America. My colleague, the locksmith, happened to be Master. When the soldier saw the Freemasons’ sign in my friend’s buttonhole, their pact was sealed. A small canteen flourished in the basement of our prison, and one after another we were led down by the kindly brother, and returned thence fortified, with pockets bulging with beer bottles.
The joke was that our sentries, who stood on guard before our door, allowed us to go away quietly, and even begged us to bring them up a few bottles of beer. At 9 p.m. our sentries had become so chummy that we practised rifle exercises together, and at 11 p.m. one sentry dropped his rifle altogether and tumbled backwards, with the coal-box, on which he had been sitting, atop of him.
If I had possessed the experience which was mine after five months’ captivity, I should have escaped even then.
In this prison, as well as in all other camps where we foregathered with the English Tommies, their first request, after we had become better acquainted, was for a little note with our address and possibly the address of friends in Germany, and an attestation that the English soldier So-and-so had treated us well. These notes were treasured by them as relics, to be produced at the Front, or in case of capture by the Germans.