The anchor was hauled up, and we travelled under the guidance of "Timmins" towards our wharf and resting-place at Locust Point.
Never before, surely, has a boat travelled under such conditions as now fell to our lot, guarded jealously by our "Timmins" and surrounded by a crowd of boats specially hired by the various film companies. On each boat five or six men stood ready with their cameras, and tried to rouse us to suitable cinematograph poses by chaffing remarks.
"Show your face, Cap!"
"Turn your head round!"
"Wave your hand!" These and similar cries arose on every side, while the fellows pushed and shoved and shouted like madmen.
I stood in the conning-tower and looked to right and left, waved both hands, and had no need to force a laugh, for the wild movements of the film hunters were indescribably funny.
Thus in the merriest of moods we reached our resting-place at Locust Point.
Here our Captain Hinsch had spent weeks in making all ready for us. The "Deutschland" found such a safe harbour, and was so protected by booms and netting from the approach of any strange vessel, that according to all human calculations nothing could possibly happen to her.
We lay inside a wooden pier built out into the stream, under cover of a great shed, in which our destined cargo was already piled up in waiting for us. The situation lay so apart that the connection of the pier with the nearest good road must be first explained.
The whole position was shut off from the land by a big trench and a steel wire fencing. In the stream itself the "Deutschland" was protected by the pier and the North German Lloyd steamer "Neckar," which had lain at Baltimore since the beginning of the war and now served us as a place of residence, from which we could watch over our boat.