One day fifty civilian prisoners were ordered by Mr. M—— to scour the first-class deck and clean the portholes. Of course we went on strike. When we persisted in our refusal we were punished by being twice deprived of our dinner and having to go to bed at 9 p.m. Moreover, M—— was such a coward that he did not dare muster us and order our punishment himself, but remained at a safe distance and sent his non-commissioned officer as official delegate.
M—— foamed with rage.
“Of course,” he said, “it is again the fault of this ‘flying-man’; he is at the root of the whole trouble, and one of these fine days he will incite the whole crew to mutiny. But I will teach him a lesson, and bring him before a court martial.”
I got fed up with this state of affairs, for I was totally innocent, so I wrote M—— a very energetic letter, in which I expressed a hope that he was only a “temporary Lieutenant,” not a “temporary gentleman.”
M—— declared that he would have nothing further to do with the “flying-man,” and as early as the next day a steamer came alongside and took me and some of my companions in misfortune from the Andania and its vulgar jailer.
How relieved I felt! The train carried us westwards for many hours. Of course I was again alone in my compartment, accompanied not only by three non-commissioned officers, but by an officer as well.
In the evening we reached Dorchester, where I was greeted by a totally different atmosphere. An English Captain (whose name was Mitchell) from the prisoners’ camp approached me and asked politely whether I was an officer.
“Yes.”
“In this case I am surprised that you should have been brought to a soldiers’ camp. Please forgive me if I cannot have you escorted by an officer. But my senior sergeant-major will come with you. Will you kindly walk alone behind the other prisoners.”