For days I loafed about London, my cap set jauntily at the back of my head, my jacket open, showing my blue sweater and its one ornament, the gilt stud, hands in pocket, whistling and spitting, as is the custom of sailors in ports all the world over. No one suspected me, and my whole plan hinged on this, for my only safeguard against discovery lay in the exclusion of even the slightest suspicion directed against myself. If anyone had paid even passing attention to me, if a policeman had asked me for my name, I could only have given my own. Therefore, it was quite superfluous that the warrants put such stress on the tattoo marks on my arm as a clue to my identity. If matters had got thus far, it would have meant that the fight was over.
On the second morning I had colossal luck! I sat on the top of a bus, and behind me two business men were engaged in animated conversation. Suddenly I caught the words, “Dutch steamer—departure—Tilbury,” and from that moment I listened intently, trying to quell the joyful throbbings of my heart. For these careless gentlemen were recounting nothing less than the momentous news of the sailing, each morning at seven, of a fast Dutch steamer for Flushing, which cast anchor off Tilbury Docks every afternoon.
In the twinkling of an eye I was off the bus. I rushed off to Blackfriars Station, and an hour later was at Tilbury. It was midday, and the workmen were streaming into their public-houses. First I went down to the river and reconnoitred; but my boat had not yet arrived. As I still had some time before me and felt very hungry, I went into one of the numerous eating-houses specially frequented by dock-labourers. In a large room a hundred of them were gathered around long tables, partaking of huge meals. I followed their example, and, by putting down 8d., received a plate heaped with potatoes, vegetables and a large piece of meat. After that I purchased a big glass of stout from the bar, and, sitting down amongst the men with the utmost unconcern, proceeded with my dinner, endeavouring to copy the table manners of the men around me, and nearly coming to grief when trying to assimilate peas with the help of a knife.
In the midst of my feast I suddenly felt a tap on the shoulder. Icy shivers ran down my back. The proprietor stood behind me and asked me for my papers. I naturally understood that he meant my identity book, and gave all up as lost. As I was unable to produce them, I was obliged to follow him, and saw to my dread that he went to the telephone. I was already casting furtive glances at the door and thinking how I could best make my escape, when the publican, who had been watching me through the glass door, returned and remarked: “If you have forgotten your papers, I can’t help you. By the by, what is your name? And where do you come from?”
“I am George Mine, an American, ordinary seaman from the four-masted barque Ohio, lying upstream. I just came in here and have paid for my dinner, but of course haven’t got my papers about me.”
He remarked: “This is a private, social-democratic club, and only members are allowed to eat here—you ought surely to know that—but if you become a member, you are welcome to come as often as you like.”
Of course I agreed at once to his proposal, and paid three shillings’ entrance fee. A bit of glaring red ribbon was passed through my buttonhole, and thus I became the latest member of the social-democratic trades union of Tilbury!
I returned to my table as if nothing had happened, gulped down my stout to fortify myself after the shock I had just had, but also soon left, for, to be quite frank, I had lost all my appetite and no longer cared for my food.
I now went down to the riverside, threw myself on to the grass, and, feigning sleep, kept a lynx-eyed watch.
Ship after ship went by, and my expectations rose every minute. At last, at 4 p.m., with proud bearing, the fast Dutch steamer dropped anchor and made fast to a buoy just in front of me. My happiness and my joy were indescribable when I read the ship’s name in white shining letters on the bow: Mecklenburg.