Trembling and shivering with cold and exertion, I staggered along the river-bank, and after an hour I found my jacket and my boots. After that I climbed over my fence and lay down, with chattering teeth, on my couch of straw.
It was still pouring, and an icy wind swept over me. My only covering consisted of my wet jacket and my two hands, which I spread out protectively over my stomach so as to try at least to keep well and going for the next few days. After two hours, being quite unable to sleep, I got up and ran about to get a little warmer.
My wet clothes only dried when they had hung over a stove a few days later in Germany! I again went to London for the day. I hung around in several churches, where I probably created the impression that I was praying devoutly; in reality I enjoyed an occasional nap there.
Another notice:
“Much-escaped Fugitive
“Plüschow’s Aeroplane Flight from Tsing-Tao
“By the Chinese dragon clue the authorities still hope to trace Lieutenant Gunther Plüschow, of the German Navy, who escaped from Donington Hall on Monday. The dragon is tattooed on the fugitive’s left arm in Oriental colours. It was probably worked by a native artist, for although but twenty-nine years of age, Plüschow has had an adventurous career in the Kaiser’s Navy.
“He was in Tsing-Tao when the British and Japanese besieged that German fortress. Shortly before it fell, Plüschow escaped in an aeroplane, and some weeks later he was found on board a Japanese trading ship at Gibraltar.
“He will probably endeavour to sign on as a seaman in a neutral ship sailing from a British port, and, with this in view, a very careful watch is being kept at all ports throughout the country. Plüschow is a typical sailor, about 5 feet 6 inches in height, with fair hair and fresh complexion. He would pass for a Dutchman with his broken English. Nothing he can do can remove the Chinese dragon from his left arm, and his recapture should be but a matter of time.”
On that day I nearly became an English soldier. On one of the platforms, erected in the midst of a public square, I saw an orator standing up and addressing the people—of course, angling for recruits. In the most brilliant colours, and with the highest enthusiasm, he depicted to the attentive crowd the entrée into London of victorious German troops. “The streets of London,” he said, “will re-echo to the tread of the ‘Huns’; your wives will be ravished by German soldiers and trampled on by their muddy boots. Will you allow this, free Britons?” An indignant “No” sounded back. “Very well, then—come and join the army now!”