Ten months in a German raider

by John Stanley Cameron

The navigating officer of Zelasko's prize crew and the bo'swain were both American navigators, one having been, prior to the war, master of a sailing vessel plying on the Atlantic Coast, and the other a Chief Mate, also in sail, on the Atlantic. At the outbreak of the war both resigned their positions and went home to lend Kaiser Bill a hand. These fellows received eighteen marks per month and have a rating of only "over matrosa," or just one step higher than that of common sailor. Several months later, after we had got better acquainted, I asked this ex-American skipper if he did not think it rather a scurvy trick to sail as Master on American ships during peace times and as soon as war was declared to leave America and help sink the very class of ships that he had hitherto made his living on. He replied by saying that at the time he resigned and went home to enlist America was not in the war, but even had she been, he would have gone just the same. From conversations I had with other ex-American seamen, I am led to believe that at the outbreak of hostilities the German Consuls at the port where their vessels hailed from ordered these men to resign and go home to the Fatherland. I also believe that their fare and expenses were paid. There are many, many cases similar to this, and I believe it would be a good thing for the American shipowners to remember when employing officers and captains to man their vessels after the war is over.

The German prize crew made a great fuss over Juanita, she being quite a novelty to them, and I am sure that she had the time of her life. Nobody on board the Wolf had seen a woman or a child for nearly nine months. My wife and little girl were the first woman and child they had taken prisoner.

On July 11th, early in the morning, the Wolf picked us up again. It seems that the steamer we saw got away from them. The Wolf put four large life-boats on the water and took off some three hundred cases of benzine and all the provisions and ship's stores we had on board the Beluga.

When the vessel was taken charge of by the German prize officer, he told me that I would be allowed to take only a few absolute necessities aboard the Wolf when I was transferred; but later, on the 11th, when the Wolf picked us up, Commander Nerger sent over word that I was to be allowed to take everything I wanted. Unfortunately the permission came almost too late, because by this time the German crew had ransacked my quarters very thoroughly and many articles that I would have taken with me for the comfort of my family were gone. Weeks later some of these were recovered. For instance, I had a pair of rubber-soled, leather-topped yachting shoes. Some weeks after joining the Wolf I noticed a man with these shoes on his feet. I called the attention of one of the officers to it and told him that they were formerly my property. The following morning those shoes were just outside my stateroom door, nicely polished.

Among the things I took on the Wolf was the wife's sewing machine, which proved of great value later on, as she had to make under and over garments for both herself and Nita. My nautical instruments, books and charts were taken from me, but I was told that they would be returned to me on my arrival in Germany.

At 1:20 we got into the boats and said a last farewell to the poor little Beluga, and she did look little in comparison with this big black brute of a raider. As we were being rowed over, the Wolf's rails were lined with grinning faces, and not one of them that I could see had the least trace of sympathy. Not that I wanted sympathy for myself, but it seemed strange to me, at the time, that out of over three hundred German sailors and officers there was not one whose face showed any sympathy for the position a woman and little child were in.

We climbed on board by means of a Jacob's ladder, myself first with Nita on my back, and my wife next. Many offered to lend her a hand, but she managed to make it without any help. There was a certain satisfaction in this, as afterwards I found out that the Germans anticipated a lot of trouble in getting her aboard, as there was quite a bit of sea running.

On arriving on deck we were met by the Chief Officer, Captain Schmell, whose first words were, "Tell your wife and little girl that they have nothing to fear, that we are not the Huns you probably think we are." He took us aft under the poop and showed us an ex-storeroom which some men were cleaning out for our use. This room was in the centre of the prisoners' quarters and had absolutely no ventilation, and there were Negroes, Indians and various other nationalities passing up and down to the hell hole, before the door, in various stages of décolleté, to say the least. The Chief told me that we three could have this room together, or my wife and child could have a more comfortable room on the berth deck amidships, but that I would have to remain down below and that I would be allowed to visit my family two hours daily. My wife would not hear of this latter arrangement, saying that we would live in a pig-sty together rather than be separated. Just then Commander Nerger came along and spoke to us, saying that he was very sorry to find that the Beluga had a woman and child on board, and had he known that such was the case he would have passed right on; but that once he had shown himself to be a raider, to protect himself he would have to keep us prisoners until such time when he could land us at a place where it would not jeopardise the safety of his vessel or crew; and that in the meantime he would make us as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. He then gave orders that we three should be given one of the deck officers' staterooms on the berth deck and that we were to be given the freedom on the side our room was on, and that as long as I paid attention to my own business only and did not talk to any of the sailors, I was to continue to enjoy this privilege; but just as soon as I gave them cause to believe that I was trying to gather information, I was to be sent down into the hell-hole aft—as the prisoners called their well-named quarters. Needless to say, I gladly agreed to his proposition, knowing myself to be lucky not to be separated from my family. At 4:30 P.M. a man (who was afterwards my orderly) came to our room with cotton batting to put in our ears, as they were going to sink the Beluga by gun fire. I was granted permission to go onto the boat deck and watch. They fired nineteen shots at her with the six-inch gun forward, and the nineteenth shell hit her amidships. The other eighteen were clean misses—rotten shooting, as the target was only two and a half miles off. Beluga burst into flames and immediately when she caught fire the benzine exploded, making one of the most wonderful sights I have ever seen. The sea for miles around us was covered with burning petrol, the weather was almost calm, and occasionally a "cat's-paw" of wind would come along and cause this flaming field of oil to run in various directions, opening a path of black water through a sea of flames. As soon as this "cat's-paw" of wind was over the flames would run together again. When the spars fell out of the ship the splash was not of water but a veritable cataract of flames. Even the Germans were impressed by the picture of three square miles of burning sea, flames leaping thirty feet high and raging for hours. God! It was a wonderful thing. In fact, the sight was so great that I did not realise for some minutes that it was my own little home that was going up in flames. My wife could not, of course, stand this sight, and had remained in her room.

On account of there being no place ready for us to sleep, we were given temporary quarters in the forward end of the deckhouse, immediately over the pump room on the main deck. There was only one very narrow bunk here, possibly eighteen inches wide, which my wife and Nita occupied. For myself I picked out a nice soft iron plate on the floor and slept on that. The only means of ventilation here was a square hole in the roof or ceiling, probably eight inches square. There was, I believe, some kind of ventilator attached to this opening outside. There was an iron-bound rule enforced at all times on the Wolf, that no light from any source should be visible on the deck. All doors were fitted with a patent mechanism so that when the door was opened the electric light current was broken and consequently the light went out. Immediately on closing the door the light would come on again. This made it necessary to sit in the dark if we wanted to have either the port hole or door open for fresh air, and if the door was closed, in a very short time the air became actually suffocating. On several occasions the temperature, with the door and port hole open, was 104° F. at night, so it can be imagined just how hot it was when the door had been closed for ten or twenty minutes. The first night none of us slept a wink, owing to the excitement of the day and the incessant hammering and knocking of the air pumps and ice-making machines immediately under our feet. This made the fourth night since we had been captured that my wife did not get a wink of sleep. Fearing complications from this loss of sleep, I called on the German doctor and finally made him understand the situation. He gave me a powder for her and asked if he should visit her. Thinking possibly that under the circumstances the near approach of a German, even a doctor, would do more harm than good, I told him I did not think it necessary.

Doctor Hausfelt, the senior surgeon of the Wolf, prior to the outbreak of the war, was a specialist in women's nervous diseases and was the head of a clinic at the Hanover University. The doctor spoke French and Italian fluently but could not speak the English language, although he read it very well. He insisted that we be moved the following morning further down the deck, to a room similar to the one we were in, but much quieter. In reality, although quieter, this room was hotter than the one forward. The bunks, of which there were two, one for the wife and one for Nita, were fastened to the iron engine room bulkhead, and the mattresses that lay up against this wall absorbed a great deal of this heat, making them very uncomfortable. I slept on the floor, which was concrete laid over the iron deck, and although very hard was really cooler, by a good deal, than the bunks.