British Secret Service During the Great War

by Nicholas Everitt

I cordially agreed, and inquired what my loquacious friend was leading up to.

"You have a Press Censor in your country, I presume?"—"Yes." "If he saw in the course of his duties anything which he thought might be of advantage to your Government, or to its naval administrators, to know, I suppose he would at once cause it to be sent along?" "Really, my dear sir," I interjected, "I have no knowledge of what our Censor does. I know he's an awful nuisance to us newspaper men; he holds up our copy for indefinite periods. But I, like yourself, assume he is an Englishman." And I looked him square in the face and wondered whether he would guess what I certainly had no intention of admitting. "Good!" he exclaimed. "Now, in this country our newspaper men get round our regulations by using simple little codes, which in their wording refer to things domestic, but in reality can be translated into something very, very different. For example, 'Mrs. Jones of —— has just had twins; one is strong, the other very weak and not expected to live,' might easily be arranged to convey the interpretation that a couple of German submarines had entered the port of ——, one of which was a damaged condition. I expect your paper would like to have such items of news? Even if it were not allowed to publish it, your Censor might like to have the news to hand along. Such a message, worded as I suggest, would not offend against our rules and regulations. We should accept it, not knowing or caring for any possible hidden meaning. Do you understand, my dear sir, what I want to convey?"

Wondering at the back of my mind whether he was just sounding me, or whether he was so truly sympathetic with the Allies that he was really anxious to help stop the war as soon as possible, I followed the wise course of terminating the interview. After thanking the superintendent for his kind assistance and sympathy I left.

It is an unwritten rule of the Secret Service never to give anything away unless it is imperative so to do, or a more than commensurate advantage is gained thereby.

It is an unwritten rule of the same Service to keep away from all Government officials, irrespective of nationality, in so far as one reasonably can.

In spite of the deadly earnestness of the gentleman I had just left, I felt puzzled. I did not understand his voluntary and unnecessary outburst of outraged sentiment. Instinct told me that somewhere there was something moving which I must guard against. What it was, or from which quarter I was to expect it, I had no idea.

In the Secret Service one must paddle one's own canoe, alone and unassisted; always up-stream; always through dangerous rapids, wherein at every yard are hidden rocks and snags ready to tear the frail craft asunder; always through countries overrun with enemies armed with poisonous arrows which are fired singly and in volleys whenever the smallest opportunity is given; always hunted and stalked both day and night by the most persevering, cunning, and desperate huntsmen in the world; always on the move, with never a sure, safe, or secure resting-place for one's weary limbs; and always on the qui vive against a thousand and one unseen, unknown, and unsuspected dangers. No wonder that members of this Service so soon become fatalists.

A few days later I was closeted with a local journalist out of collar. He wanted a job. He spoke six languages, had had smooth and rough experiences in America, and was a man of great ability. His weak spot was alcohol. He had had chances innumerable. Friends had helped him until their patience had been exhausted. Now that his domestic ship was badly on the rocks, the whole family half-starved, and himself a total abstainer—by force of circumstances—another last chance seemed to his unfortunate wife to fall as the blessed manna from heaven in the wilderness. I treated him generously and trusted him—as far as I could have trusted any ordinary person—but he, an ordinary mortal of this proverbially ungrateful world, at once sold his benefactor to a higher bidder, in so far as it was possible for him so to do. It happened thus-wise.

Not satisfied with the liberal terms I had agreed to give him, which covered full travelling expenses, living expenses and remuneration separately assessed, he approached various carrying firms and tried to wheedle from them free passes. Meeting with no sympathy—probably they knew him by former experience—he visited the police and sold me over to them as an alleged spy. Naturally the police wanted evidence. This the man undertook to get. He made excuse after excuse to delay his departure on my business. He visited me daily with a long list of questions; he suggested the obtaining of information concerning local naval and military intelligence which did not interest me in the least; he pressed for written instructions, special codes, and complicated arrangements regulating the sending and receiving of correspondence—anything, in fact, which would gain him time and which might prove my undoing—all of which, however, I suggested he should prepare himself if he wanted them.

The man's testimonials were excellent upon all points excepting the one weakness before referred to, and I treated him quite unsuspectingly. Little did I know that when he made notes in shorthand they were in fact literal and verbatim reports of our entire conversation, made at the suggestion of the police and for their special benefit. I afterwards heard that detectives had helped to prepare the very code he brought to me and which he was so eager for me to substitute for one I had suggested.