[17] sic.—Translator.
CHAPTER XXV UNSUCCESSFUL ATTEMPTS AT ESCAPE
During the long period of captivity which ensued all my faculties were concentrated on finding an opportunity to escape as quickly as possible from this unbearable camp.
The proceedings against Roger Casement, which began in April, showed clearly that the English would stick at nothing in their effort to find out those details in the preparations for the Irish revolution which, with all their extensive spy system, they had so far failed to discover. Sergeant Bailey, on whose fidelity Casement relied so thoroughly, had turned traitor in order to save his life.
In international law the English could make no charge against me or my crew. I knew that well. But I also knew just as well that international law would afford us no protection if it occurred to the English to do what they thought right. It would not have been the first time in this war that the English had ignored the most elemental provisions of international law; for it is well known that the English, when it is necessary, know only one law, English law. So long, therefore, as the proceedings against Casement lasted, I had to be prepared for any new surprise. But I did not wish to wait for this, for I had not the slightest wish to share Casement's probable fate and gratify the thirst for vengeance of the English mob by hanging on a gallows in the Tower.
Whenever I got a chance I surveyed the camp as unobtrusively as possible, climbed into the most distant lofts and cellars of the old ruined castle, and examined the great barbed-wire fence to find the weakest spot. In doing so I discovered that it would be, at the very least, extremely difficult to escape from this prison. Donington Hall was at that time the best-guarded and most secure prisoner-of-war camp in England. It deserved the name 'Castle' only when regarded from a distance, for the interior of Donington Hall was more like a tenement than the former residence of the Barons Hastings.
Since the escape of Lieut.-Commander Plüschow in July 1915, no prisoner of war had succeeded in getting away, although well organised attempts had not been wanting. The difficulties were increased by the fact that the possibility of further progress after leaving the camp had got much smaller during the last six months. The patrolling of the country and the watch kept on the main roads, railway stations, and docks, were now such that it was practically impossible to get out of the country. The exemption-certificates and the food-cards, without which one could get nothing to eat on the road, increased the difficulties of escape.
If I therefore attempted to discuss the question with my friends I always got the same answer: 'It's no use. You will get outside the barbed wire and no farther.' I could sympathise with the poor fellows' hopelessness. The many recent failures and the effect of the long captivity—most of them had been pining here for a year and a half—had impaired their will and brought them into a state of dull despondency.