When well at sea, we intended coming out and offering to do whatever we were ordered. Even hard work on a ship was better than starving in London, for sailors are usually given potatoes three times a day, while a penniless man in London knows not whence comes the next meal.
In the bottom of the dark, dirty, foul-smelling ship we lay for hours, thinking every moment that she would start, but to our disappointment it was another half day before she set out on her voyage. All this time we had been without a single mouthful of food or a drop of water. We became desperate and crawled out of our hiding place to the deck, where we were soon spied and despite our pleading and begging, we were ordered ashore.
The ship was now slowly wending its way down the Thames, with the pilot skilfully guiding it through the deep channels. On either side were the banks dotted with the little huts of fishermen and sailors. We were so feeble from our fast and from lying in that cramped position for hours that neither of us could barely move, and when we were told we would have to swim ashore I almost fainted. I had never had much practice in swimming and to undertake such a task at this time seemed suicidal, for I knew that I was too weak to hold out.
The sailors crowded about us, and our delay seemed to excite the anger of the officer who was ordering us around. He shouted that if we didn't make haste he would have us lowered over the side of the ship by ropes. Realizing that the only thing to do was to swim, we climbed down the rope ladder on the starboard side. Max went first and when at the end of the ladder he leaped into the river and began swimming toward the shore. I yelled at him to wait for me, but he kept on, seemingly frightened out of his wits. Now that it was up to me I climbed slowly down to the bottom of the ladder, and there I clung hesitating. What would it be, suicide or murder? I felt that if I should attempt to swim I would surely drown. Yet if I did not the sailors threatened to throw me over.
While clinging to the end of the ladder it was jerked violently out of my hold, and, losing my balance, I plunged backward into the river. As I fell I heard the wild, hideous shouts of the sailors above who were leaning over the deck rail.
It is a well known fact that one can be drawn under a ship by the suction and cut to pieces by the propeller. Naturally, this thought flashed into my mind as I sank into the water. It seemed to me that my time had come, but I was not one to give up all hope. When I came up again to the water's surface I beat desperately and frantically to keep from going under the second time. Fighting for safety, I began swimming toward the bank, some hundred yards away. Before I had gone ten yards, I realized my wet clothes were hindering my progress. I fought with the current more desperately than ever, for the sounds of "Help! Help!" were ringing in my ears.
I reached the bank safely, but so worn out that I could scarcely drag my limp body to dry land. Looking over my shoulder, I saw poor old Max lying on the opposite bank, and when I waved my drenched handkerchief to him, he saluted by a wave of the arm.
Fortunately the sun was shining, and on the grassy banks of the Thames we sprawled in the warm rays while our drenched garments were being dried. When our clothes had been sufficiently dried we proceeded up the banks opposite each other, and it was not long before we were gripping hands.
The following day while strolling along the Strand we met a couple of friends, Bob Morris and Nelson, both of Georgetown University. These fellows had just arrived in London and from them we secured a small loan, which was, at least enough to feed us for several days to come. A few days later our troubles ended, for Goodman received a letter containing a considerable sum and on the first outgoing steamer he sailed for New York.