Gun running for Casement in the Easter rebellion, 1916

CHAPTER XXI WE PREPARE TO SINK OUR SHIP

Towards midnight there was a slight distraction. A half-flotilla of destroyers relieved our escort-ships—with the exception of the Bluebell, which remained as leader. The other cruisers again turned west. The night was so clear that we could clearly observe every detail in our neighbourhood. Northwards we noticed now and again the lights of passing vessels. If only a submarine would come along now and cut us out! But none came; and as the moon was now beginning to show there could be no doubt that our expedition, which had begun so splendidly, must come to an abrupt termination in a few hours' time.

I therefore ordered the crew on to the bridge and told them with heavy heart that, if unexpected help did not arrive, I should be compelled to blow up the Aud next morning, as the ship must, under no circumstances, fall into the hands of the enemy.

They listened to me seriously and in silence. Then they eased their hearts by raining a torrent of curses on the heads of the English, which proved to me that they were no less disappointed than myself at this unhappy ending. All our brave and splendid dreams had come to naught, and we now lay impotent in the claws of our deadly enemies.

During the short time which elapsed before the moon rose, we busied ourselves in doing some important jobs. In the first place we burned everything of a secret nature. The burning of our papers I looked after personally. All valuable materials which could not be burned were carefully dropped overboard. Of course, it was possible, though not probable, that the explosion might not be effective; and to provide for this contingency I had to get rid of everything that might incriminate us. For an instant I entertained the idea of fetching up a couple of machine-guns out of our cargo and mounting them on deck, but gave it up again. It would have been senseless to attack our heavily-armed escort with a machine-gun and risk a battle, especially as my crew were not used to this weapon, which was of the latest army pattern. Each time when we let some dark object down the side into the water the escorting vessels shot away. They must have been horribly afraid of us. The officers of the Bluebell told me later on that they thought we were dropping mines! All night through they had been expecting us to suddenly open our gun-ports and rain shells on them. They had estimated my crew at 150. What a pity this was not the case! Who knows what might have been the result!

I now made an inspection of the ship and satisfied myself that all preparations had been made for blowing her up, examined the explosive charges, incendiary bombs and detonators, and then got ready our German naval flags, so that they could be run up in an instant.

If an opportunity offered I intended to ram the Bluebell or one of her consorts, and then blow up the ship, so that we should not go down alone. But it looked almost as if the English scented my plan, for they kept at a respectful distance and instantly turned away whenever I altered course even for a moment—a proof that they kept a jolly good look-out.

CHAPTER XXII THE SINKING OF THE 'LIBAU'

It was long past midnight. The moon was fairly high and it was a beautifully clear and calm night. Under ordinary circumstances one could not have wished for a better. Thousands and thousands of stars twinkled in the sky, and there was not a wisp of cloud to dim their glittering light. The sea was almost as smooth as glass, except when a gentle breeze momentarily ruffled its surface.

The silence of this peaceful night was broken only by an occasional subdued word of command or a whistle on the escorting vessels, which unceasingly circled round us like sheep dogs round their flock. With their sharp bows they tore deep furrows, which, resolving into numberless wavelets, grew ever broader and strewed the surface with millions of glittering silver specks. From time to time one heard also louder orders from the various engine-rooms and stoke-holds, followed by the slamming of furnace-doors and the rattle of shovels. And then, a few moments later, the thick smoke-clouds that issued from the funnels of the dark-gray monsters showed that the enemy was not asleep.

More and more numerous became the lights of passing ships, which, far to the north of us, were making for their destination safe in the shelter of the coast. And many ships without lights also met us or crossed our course. These were English patrol-ships and destroyers steaming without lights in order to escape the observation of German submarines which had recently been very active round the south coast of Ireland, causing terror and damage to all who had a bad conscience.

On board the Aud there was absolute silence. We were all busy with our own thoughts. And these were probably all the same. If luck would only come to our aid just this once! But it did not come. The weather showed no sign of changing before morning. The longed-for submarine, for all our anxious look-out, could not be seen. Whenever we looked towards the English we could see on each ship a couple of dark figures with glasses to their eyes keeping us steadily under observation. Thus we proceeded, mile after mile. Northwards, a long, dark strip, like a low-lying cloud-bank, was now visible; we were approaching the coast. Consequently, it was time we started to learn something about Queenstown Harbour; for if we were forced to sink the Aud we ought at least to choose the spot where she would do most damage to the enemy. Unfortunately, when search was made for the proper chart, it turned out that we had special charts of African and American harbours—but none of Queenstown. Naturally, it never occurred to us when we were setting out that we should visit that harbour.

'Oh, damn this Quee-ee-eenstown,' growled the second mate, imitating the voice of the English officer, which was still echoing in our ears. The stout little fellow had not lost his sense of humour in spite of all our misfortunes.

So we were forced to study the details of Queenstown Harbour on a general chart of Ireland. Unfortunately, this chart gave very few details. We discovered, however, that the average depth of the outer entrance to the harbour was twenty to twenty-five fathoms. This suited our purpose admirably. There was enough water to prevent the wreck being raised, and there was still the possibility that we might obstruct the channel if the Aud came to rest in the right position.

As dawn approached, the Bluebell altered course, keeping closer to the coast, which, with its low chalk-cliffs, covered with rich green meadow, was now plainly visible. 'We can celebrate Easter Sunday there,' I heard a voice behind me say. It was Battermann, of course, the signalman of the grinning countenance. And sure enough it was the 22nd of April, and next day would be Easter Sunday! In the excitement of the last few days I had lost count of time. At sunrise the destroyers considered their task finished, for after a short exchange of signals with the leading ship they turned and steamed westwards. The warships patrolling these waters were now so numerous that the enemy judged us to be safe. Nevertheless, the Bluebell (evidently fearing some stratagem on our part) thought it advisable to leave the head of the convoy and move to the rear, whence she could keep a better watch on us, nosing round us now on the starboard side, now on the port side, but always at a respectful distance.

During the night I had ordered the crew to put on uniform under their Norwegian costume. Their naval caps they stuffed into their pockets, so that at the given moment they had only to cast off their heavy leather jackets in order to be recognised as German sailors. The first and second mate and myself followed the same procedure. Galley Lighthouse, which stands below the entrance to Queenstown, was now visible. Shortly afterwards the lightship (which at that time lay in mid-channel) came into view. As there was no traffic of any sort in the western half of the channel we surmised—correctly—that a minefield was laid there.

Fifteen minutes more and we should be there. The quays swarmed with war craft of every description. In order to do the job thoroughly I had ordered the condenser to be smashed before the ship was blown up. The engineer had consequently let the pressure fall so low that we were steaming, or rather crawling, not more than two knots, and our escort did not attempt to protest. In view of the proximity of the harbour and of the other warships they probably felt surer of us now. How confident they were, and how unsuspecting, will be seen from the fact that during the last hour they had been busy getting into harbour trim. Guns were polished and covered with tarpaulins, ropes neatly coiled down and decks scrubbed, and many of the crew might be seen in shore-going clothes, brushing one another down. We could hardly believe our eyes when we noticed their light-hearted carelessness and contrasted it with the deep mistrust they had previously shown.

The moment which was to decide our fate was now at hand. In view of the dangerous cargo which we carried above the explosive bombs, I had to reckon with the fact that when I blew up the ship we might all be blown to bits. I therefore passed the word that I required four volunteers to blow up the ship and hoist the German naval flag, but that the others were free to lower a boat just before the explosion was timed to take place. A unanimous, almost angry, 'No!' was the answer—'we will stay with the captain till the end.' It is a great satisfaction to me to express here to my brave crew my thanks for their fidelity.

Moreover, to ascertain what the Bluebell intended with us I now signalled, 'Where are we to anchor?' And shortly afterwards I received the answer, 'Await further orders.' 'All right, then,' said I to myself, 'you will soon see.' And I had the secret satisfaction that up to the very end it was I that called the tune.

When we were about three-quarters of a mile from the lightship a deep scheme occurred to me. On our port side a large English cargo-steamer was tearing along at top speed. She was a ship of about 8000 tons and in ballast, so that she stood high out of the water. We could send her to the bottom along with the Aud.

'Port ... 10 ... 15.' 'Ease her a little.' 'Steady.' 'Keep her at that!'

Slowly and sluggishly the Aud answered her helm. She had barely steerage way.

'All hands to quarters! Ready with the fuses and incendiary bombs! Stand by to run up the ensign!' Every man was at his post ready for the signal.

We were now within 800 yards of the steamer. Then the unexpected happened. Presumably in consequence of a signal from the Bluebell, on the bridge of which a signalman was busily semaphoring, the steamer suddenly put her helm hard a-starboard, passing us and the cruiser in a wide sweep. So our plan of ramming her was frustrated. Our luck appeared to be right out. Two hundred yards more to the lightship!—150!—100! Eagerly we scanned the surface for the last time, but no periscope was visible.

There was nothing else for it then.

'All ready?' 'All ready!' was the answer from the engine-room and deck. The hands who were not employed were standing unobtrusively in the neighbourhood of the ship's boats. These they had lowered to the height of the ship's rail, lying on their stomachs so as to avoid being observed by the enemy. It might still be possible to make use of them. From the engine-room came sounds of violent hammering—the condenser was being smashed, and there was no retreating now.

'Hard a-starboard!' The engine-room telegraph rang three times in succession, 'Stop!'

This was the pre-arranged signal. With a last effort the Aud swung slowly to starboard and lay exactly across the channel. The ship's pendant was already waving from the main-mast, and next moment the German naval ensign was run up, bidding defiance to the English and all their works. Jackets and greatcoats flew overboard. Three cheers for our supreme War Lord! Then there was a muffled explosion. The Aud shivered from stem to stern, beams and splinters flew up in the air, followed by a cloud of dirty-gray smoke, and flames burst forth from the saloon, the charthouse, the ventilators, and the forecastle. That was all we had time to notice. 'All hands to the boats!' We might be able to get away from the ship before the munitions exploded.

The port side boat, under command of the first mate, had already pushed off, as the starboard boat was just being lowered. 'All away?' 'Ay, ay, sir!' was the answer from the boats. The engineer, the second mate, the helmsman, and I were the last to clamber down. We cut the painter with an axe, and it was high time we did, for within a few feet of our boat was the 'conjurer's box,' which still contained a dozen explosive bombs. The stern was already low in the water, and we were just pushing off when a stoker came running from the burning forecastle with some large object under his arm.

'Good heavens, man, what are you doing on board?'

'I've saved the gramophone,' he shouted, as he swung himself down with the agility of a monkey and plumped into the boat like a sack. But the gramophone which he had rescued at such risk fell into the water and was no more seen.

It required our utmost efforts to get clear of the sinking ship. While we were busy doing this there was a second violent explosion amidships. Several more followed, accompanied by clouds of thick, sulphurous smoke. The munitions were probably catching fire. If we did not get clear soon the whole ship might blow up round our heads. The crew gave way with a will. Suddenly a gun roared. The Bluebell had spoken. We could not see where the shell struck, for the forward part of the Aud, which projected out of the water, interrupted our view. All we could see was that the ships at the quay came steaming towards us. At the same moment we heard loud cries coming from our second boat. Surely the Bluebell would not——. We hardly dared to give expression to the terrible thought.

As any resistance would only lead to foolish and useless bloodshed (for we were defenceless and at the mercy of an infinitely superior force), I had, as instructed by my superior officers, expressly ordered that a white flag was to be shown immediately if we succeeded in launching the boats.

This order was carried out. The Bluebell therefore violated international law if she fired at us now. When, a few minutes later, we rowed round the burning ship, we were glad to find that the second boat was undamaged.

The bow of the Aud was lifting higher and higher out of the water. The stern was already submerged, and the surface of the water was strewn with all sorts of wreckage. Strangely enough, there was no further explosion. The huge charge probably tore such a hole in the ship's side that the water rushed in instantly and drowned out the fuses.

About five minutes after the first explosion a dull, rumbling noise came from the Aud. The cargo and bunkers were shifting. The masts tottered, then the blazing bow rose perpendicularly out of the water, and next moment the Aud, as if drawn down by an invisible hand, sank with a loud hissing noise. Our good old Libau was no more.

CHAPTER XXIII A SECOND 'BARALONG?'

We had no illusions about the future. Imprisonment was the best we could expect. If the English were disposed to be unmerciful, it would soon be all over with us. While more and more ships were hurrying to the spot where the Aud had sunk we rowed slowly towards the Bluebell. We could hardly believe our eyes when on approaching the cruiser we saw the reception prepared for us. The crew stood shoulder to shoulder along the ship's side, most of them with rifles at the ready. Every gun and machine-gun on the cruiser was pointed at us, and followed our movements fairly accurately. Were these men devils incarnate? If the position had not been so dreadfully serious one might have been inclined to smile with pity at these men, who were not ashamed to make preparations to shoot down twenty-two German sailors like dogs. Or were they afraid that we, with our two miserable lifeboats, were trying to ram and sink their great cruiser? I almost had that impression.

In order to make myself known, I stood up and waved my hand. It might perhaps prevent a volley being fired next moment. As this evoked no reply, I shouted at the top of my voice in English that we were men of the German navy, and that we claimed the protection of our white flag. In a few moments the answer came from the cruiser: 'The captain only is to come on board.' So we rowed alongside.

For the first time we now saw the enemy at close range. The impression they made on us was anything but favourable. Unlike the crews of ships of the line, such as I have seen before and since, they presented a most unkempt appearance. Only a part of the crew wore uniform. The other seamen and stokers, with their coloured shirts, unwashed, and unshaved, might just as well have belonged to the crew of a small collier. One of the officers, apparently the ship's surgeon, was actually wearing brown civilian trousers and a black uniform jacket. The arms they carried were still stranger than their clothing. Those who had no rifles were provided with all sorts of lethal weapons. Sabres, knives, pistols, and even cutlasses, with huge basket-handles, dating from the earliest days of the English Navy, formed part of the motley armament. The whole scene, the threatening language, and not least the villainous faces of some of the crew, caused me much foreboding. While I was getting out of the boat the officers followed with their pistols every move I made, and I had a feeling that any moment I might receive a bullet in the back. My crew assured me afterwards that while I was going up the ship's side they had the same feeling. And they had plenty of justification for the feeling, for the Baralong case was not by any means the only blot in the history of English naval warfare to account for the general contempt and mistrust with which the English were regarded in Germany.

At the gangway a small, boyish-looking lieutenant received me. He signed to me to go aft, and, under the impression that the captain wished to speak to me there, I did so. At the same time my boat was ordered to row to a distance of fifty yards from the Bluebell. The crew formed a semicircle round me, and the lieutenant took care that they kept a proper distance from me. Then, upon his order, six men with rifles stepped forward and formed a close guard round me. Strangely enough, all the officers had suddenly disappeared from the deck. Shortly afterwards I accidentally noticed the surgeon peeping at me from behind a searchlight on the upper deck. An indefinite suspicion crossed my mind. Surely it was not possible that the English would show such contempt for the laws of war. I still refused to believe it. The next few moments proved to me that I was right.

The lieutenant gave some order in a subdued voice that trembled a little. The six men, standing in a semicircle before me, brought their rifles to the ready. Behind them the rest of the crew continued to pour on me, as before, a torrent of threats and insults of the most vulgar description, while no one made the slightest move to stop them. 'Shoot him, the German swine!' 'Knock him down, the dog! He is not worth wasting powder on!' And these were not by any means the worst expressions which these scallywags used. There could be no doubt it was now a question of life and death. I was to be shot down without any sort of trial, and then it would be the turn of my brave crew. I therefore requested the lieutenant in a respectful but decided tone to conduct me to his commanding officer before he took any further steps. For answer there was a derisive laugh from the crew and more abuse of the lowest sort. The lieutenant said something to his men which I did not catch, whereupon some of them put their rifles to their shoulders. The others kept handling the breach and trigger. It seemed as if the crew would wait no longer for the horrible drama, and they began to whistle and tramp. 'Fetch the other piratical dogs also,' they continued to shout.

My men in the two boats, who had been watching these proceedings from a short distance, began to get restless and made as if to come on board. I signed to them to do nothing precipitate. Then I summoned up my whole English vocabulary and again asked the officer in the most energetic manner to conduct me to his commanding officer, pointing out at the same time that we were legitimate combatants, and demanded that, in accordance with international law, we should be treated as such.

The lieutenant stood before me undecided, looking first to me and then round to his men, as if seeking advice. Then an idea which suddenly occurred to me proved our salvation. In a voice that could be heard on the bridge of the Bluebell I shouted, 'If, instead of treating us as regular prisoners of war, you want to engineer another Baralong affair, inform your commanding officer at once that for each one of us that you unlawfully shoot the German Government will have two English officers shot. If you think that you can answer before God and your conscience for the murder which you intend, then do what you have to do. I have nothing more to say to you.'

This apparently made some impression on the English, for all the shouting stopped at once and the lieutenant after some delay told his men to order arms. At the same time he sent a man forward with a message. About ten minutes afterwards the man came back and whispered something in the officer's ear. The lieutenant then called my two boats alongside and ordered the crew to come on board. We were then thoroughly searched, and the English had the bitter disappointment of finding neither arms nor secret papers on us. When one of my men was asked if he still had any weapons he answered with a loud 'Yes!' Asked where they were, he pointed with a mysterious air to his big sea-boots. Carefully the English felt down his legs, while two men held the unfortunate fellow fast by the arms. He was, without doubt, a very dangerous man. We followed the proceedings very attentively—and what do you think the English fished out? An enormous German sausage which good old Bruhns had intended to take into captivity with him as an 'emergency ration.' With angry blows they pushed him away.

Then we were taken below. I was separated from my men. The other officers now reappeared, and the little lieutenant assured me again and again in a somewhat apologetic tone that he had just now 'only carried out his orders.' The engines of the Bluebell started—we were apparently entering the inner harbour. Half an hour later a launch took us with a tremendous escort to the cruiser Adventure, the flagship of the squadron based in Queenstown. Officers and crew were on deck watching us. Our reception was extremely cool.

I took the opportunity of again warning my men to give nothing away either in conversation or examination, and above all not to get drunk. They were taken forward, while I and the first and second mate were taken to a lock-up in the after-battery, where we were closely guarded.

The food was good, and our treatment at the hands of individual officers was extremely courteous. The captain and the first-officer especially showed us every consideration possible under the circumstances. I need, of course, hardly mention that this consideration was not due exclusively to sympathy for us; for the English were extremely anxious to learn what details they could from us. At the same time I am convinced that they honestly meant what they said in describing our expedition as 'very smart.'

In the afternoon a steamer took us to Spike Island, which lies in the middle of the harbour. From various conversations and from the continuous rushing to and fro of orderlies we gathered that something serious was on foot. We were taken off the cruiser because it was feared the Irish might help us to escape. Had the revolution broken out already? Where on earth was Roger Casement then?

Our escorts were getting larger and larger. Eight officers and nearly a whole company took our little party to the fort. On the way thither we received several shouts of encouragement from the Irish population, which made me hope that we might still be rescued. This was probably also the explanation of the strong escort. Arrived at the fort we were put in separate rooms, which were heavily barred, and double sentries were posted at the doors. The view from the windows was barred by several high walls. A man disguised as a clergyman visited us in our cells which, with the exception of roughly-made tables and iron bedsteads, contained no furniture. I had a feeling that our execution was to take place inside these walls, and that the clergyman had come to prepare us for our end.

But my anxiety turned out to be unfounded. The man, who had probably never been a clergyman, soon betrayed by his clumsy questions that he wanted to examine us. When he informed me finally, 'in confidence,' that he was 'an enthusiastic Irishman,' I knew enough. Fortunately, our sojourn in the fort did not last long. Two hours later we were again taken on board the cruiser. It seemed to me as if the English authorities in their excitement could not decide on the safest place for us. We remained two whole days on board the cruiser.

During this time I had an opportunity of noting the enormous difference between this ship and the Bluebell. Discipline, order, and cleanliness were simply perfect on the Adventure. The officers and men with whom I came in contact were strictly official, but courteous. I mention this fact specially because the English officers and men whom I happened to meet both before and after this, with a few exceptions, who were aware of the duties of their position, showed to a defenceless prisoner of war tactlessness and offensiveness almost without parallel.

During this time the news filtered through that the Irish revolution was in full swing. From a newspaper, which I succeeded in obtaining in spite of my guards, I learned that Roger Casement had been caught. Unfortunately, no details were given.

I certainly found another official report, which appeared to have been intentionally falsified, to the effect that a disguised German auxiliary cruiser, which had tried to land arms and munitions for the Irish rebels, had sunk in Queenstown Harbour, and that Roger Casement was a member of the crew! This latter statement was a lie; but the other statement showed only too clearly that the English knew all about the business. Our position had therefore become very critical.

Time after time I was invited to a 'glass of whisky'—in other words, an examination—by the first officer. The whole staff of the ship was assembled there. To the great disgust of the English, I refused the whisky with thanks, and drank coffee instead till further orders—a drink that did not appeal to these gentlemen. In answer to their numerous questions I told them the fibs which our position necessitated. Among other things I told them we had arms and munitions on board for our troops in Africa, and heavy guns which, after breaking through the blockade, we intended to mount in order to start commerce-raiding. A remark which was dropped in the course of these conversations confirmed my conjecture that the reason why the crew of the Bluebell were so angry was that our action in sinking the Aud had deprived them of the prize money which they would have earned by bringing her safely into port.

Late next day the Adventure weighed anchor. I now occupied the first officer's cabin, which he had very kindly placed at my disposal. A sentry came in and screwed down the dead light of the scuttle, so that I could no longer see out. So we were passing the spot where the Aud sank.

Manœuvring from side to side for what appeared to me to be an eternity; and keeping close in to the lightship (as I was able to see through a crack) the cruiser gained the open sea. Numerous craft were busy round the spot where the Aud sank. Apparently, then, I must have sunk her at a useful spot, for if a small vessel like the Adventure had so much trouble in passing, how would it fare with really big ships?

If I am not mistaken divers were also busy. They were welcome to all they could find, for the water where the Aud lay was too deep even for divers. For this reason I also thought it would be impossible to salve the ship, especially as the strong under-currents would soon bury her in sand.

CHAPTER XXIV LAWFUL COMBATANT OR PIRATE?

About 5 a.m. I was taken on deck. We were now at Milford Haven, on the south-west coast of England. A strong escort of Marines, which had been sent in all haste from Chatham, came to fetch us. A long, unpleasant journey by special train then followed. Our food during the eighteen hours' journey consisted of two slices of bread with a suggestion of butter. I could not discover where we were going. At various stations the people came to the carriage windows and shouted and spat at us, and the officer in charge of the escort angrily drew the curtains. The soldiers escorting us filled the passages of our two corridor carriages, and when asked where we were going I heard them repeatedly answer, 'To London. They are to be shot in the Tower!' This did not sound very hopeful.

After midnight on a pitch-dark night we arrived in Chatham. We could see nothing. All the lights were masked in consequence of a recent Zeppelin raid. Nothing could be heard but the rattle of rifles and bayonets. Now and then the silence was broken by a muffled word of command. We were then surrounded by a squad of Marines and marched through the dark streets to the barracks. We halted before a large building. My crew had been taken off in another direction, only the first and second mates remaining with me. We were taken up two flights of stairs.

All the proceedings had taken place in uncanny silence. Several cells were opened. The middle one was mine. I had hardly crossed the threshold when the door was again barred, and a heavy key turned in the lock. I was left to myself.

Early next morning I received a visit from an Admiral and his A.D.C. As a well-bred man and as the junior in rank, I saluted in curt military fashion. But this gentleman did not consider it necessary to return my salute, not even with his stick, as is the custom of most English officers. I therefore answered his questions so curtly and evasively that he soon left.

This day and the succeeding ones dragged heavily. I tried to while away the time with physical exercises, but as I could not go on for ever with these I was left most of the day to my reflections. Next night I chanced to overhear a conversation between two of my guards, who were standing directly opposite the peephole in my cell-door. They were speaking of an attack on Lowestoft by the German Fleet. To my joy, I gathered from their conversation that the English had suffered heavily.

Twenty times during the night a sentry came into my cell, in order to make sure that I had not hanged myself, and went out again with a loud rattle of keys. When I entered the cell my first thought was, 'How am I to get out of this?' But I was soon convinced that there was not the slightest possibility of escape. I had not even that most necessary of all tools, a knife. At meals (which were good and abundant) I was given only a spoon.

The most unpleasant feature of this captivity was that I had too much time to think about our ultimate fate. I had no idea what was happening outside, or what was to happen to my men and myself. I had discovered that the room on my right was occupied by the officer of the guard, and that on my left by the sergeant of the guard. Farther on, on each side, were the cells of the first and second mates. It was therefore impossible to communicate with them by tapping on the wall.

Next morning when I got up all my clothes had vanished, uniform, linen, shoes—in fact, everything I had taken off. I was just about to knock and ask the explanation when an English petty-officer appeared and explained to me that my things were still in the tailor's and shoemaker's shops, and that they were being sewn together again. He told me they had taken everything apart during the night and had discovered a large quantity of English, Norwegian, and Danish banknotes in our clothes. It would count against me that I had sewn my money in the lining. They had unfortunately found no secret documents, he added regretfully. This put all possibility of bribing our guards out of the question. It was what you might call very hard luck. As soon as I was dressed I was taken downstairs. The escort was already waiting to take us to the railway station. On the way to the station we were joined by my crew with another escort. I was glad to see that they were in good spirits. They had no idea yet what was on foot.

The Chatham mob behaved so badly to us that the escort were repeatedly forced to interfere. We went by train to London, and were taken from the station in two open motor-lorries. The whole business reminded me of cattle being taken to the slaughterhouse. A halt was made at Scotland Yard, the headquarters of the English Police, where we were to be examined. A big crowd received us with abuse and threatening language.

As was to be expected, our reception at Scotland Yard was icily cold and unfriendly. I was at once taken before the high officials of the Admiralty. Three sides of the big room were occupied by naval officers. General Staff officers, police officials, and detectives. The Commissioner of Police for London was also present. Commander Brandon and his colleague Captain French,[17] who, some time ago, spent several years in a German prison after being convicted of espionage, acted as interpreters and members of this court. As Captain French translated not only badly but also intentionally wrong, I refused his mediation and henceforward spoke in English.

Each of us was examined separately. Of course, we 'fooled them to the top of their bent.' They tried by every possible means to pump us by kindliness and by threats of the meanest description.

My men naturally told them the same fairy-tales as I. Even comic interludes were not lacking. For instance, one of the crew when asked where the German Fleet was, answered, after some reflection, 'Yes, I can tell you exactly. It has been at sea for a long time looking for the English Fleet, but so far has not been able to find it.' The English did not take the remark very kindly, for which we could hardly blame them.

Right at the beginning of the examination I expressly told the President of the Tribunal, a naval captain, that he need not expect a single word from me or my men which would prejudice German interests. As he continued, in spite of this, to ply us with questions, he need not have been surprised if we answered falsely.

Unfortunately, it became quite clear in the course of the examination that the English not only had got wind of the arrival of the Libau, but also possessed exact information on practically every detail. Their information on the preparations for the expedition were particularly accurate.

There were traitors and spies at work! I cudgelled my brains in vain to think where they had got their information. From what the English told me of my sojourn in the different German ports and in Berlin, I concluded that a male or female spy was following every step I took at that time. It was a complete mystery to me. In answer to repeated questions about Sir Roger Casement, I answered each time that I did not know the man at all, whereupon they read out to me out of a big file some passages which were word for word identical with my secret orders! I had, personally, burned my copy of the orders. They must, therefore, possess the only extant copy. Casement's!

Should I continue to deny all knowledge?—I reflected for a moment. Yes, in the interests of my men I must; for I judged by the conduct of the English that they intended to treat my crew and myself in the same illegal manner.

That Casement was a prisoner I already knew, but I did not know where he was imprisoned. The English captain told me—probably as a bluff—that Casement was a prisoner in the next room, and that I should be confronted with him in a few minutes. There was no further object, he said, in my denying knowledge of the business as Casement, in order to save his neck, had betrayed everything! I had to pull myself together in order to conceal the effect on me of this statement. Luckily I kept my head. Bluff against bluff! Only the utmost assurance could help me now. So I answered in a quiet tone that I should be glad to be confronted with him at once, so that the officers could see for themselves that we were strangers.

It was a risky game I was playing. If Casement had really betrayed everything we were lost. If not, my effrontery might perhaps save the situation. The English, taken aback, looked at one another for a moment; and then all turned their eyes on me; they wished to note what effect Casement's name had on me. A long, uncomfortable pause followed, during which I made every effort to preserve an attitude of indifference. At last the examination came to an end. And—nothing more, either then or later, was heard about confronting me with Casement! The manner in which the English conducted the inquiry provoked me several times to declare that they should not forget they were dealing with a German officer and German sailors. I had told them that I had sealed orders which were not to be opened till we had left German waters, so that my crew knew nothing about our objective when they followed me. The English captain was intensely angry with me for having carried out these orders. I ought, he said, as soon as I had read them, to have turned back at once and refused to carry out such a commission! The only way I could answer such a disgraceful suggestion was with a contemptuous shrug and with the remark that such a thing might be possible in England, but not in Germany, where every soldier at once carries out every order of his superior officers without moving an eyelid.

After this interrogation I was taken to an adjoining room, carefully guarded by several detectives. The English had not been able to prove that secret intercourse had taken place between us and the Irish in Tralee. They may therefore have come to the conclusion that they could not, as they had threatened, shoot or hang us without a gross violation of international law. They therefore looked round for some other excuse to vent their anger on me and catch me. They soon found one, and when I was again brought in the English captain explained to me that I must be shot because I had blown up my ship after I had been taken prisoner!

This, of course, was nonsense. When I followed the English cruiser to Queenstown I was by no means a prisoner; I was simply a neutral obeying their command because no other course was open to me.

Nevertheless, the English captain continued to point out that they were not violating international law, but that we ourselves had violated international law by misuse of a neutral flag. We could not, therefore, claim to be treated as lawful combatants, and must expect the treatment always meted out to pirates, hanging or shooting. As before, when on board the Bluebell, I tried the effect of the threat that the German Government would make reprisals. Then the inquiry ended. Before I was led away, however, the captain informed me that he could no longer regard me as an officer, as I had not told him the truth! These English really had a very naïve conception of a German officer's honour and sense of duty.

When I arrived in Chatham I soon found that the English captain had not spoken empty words. The treatment which I now received left much to be desired. Of the much-vaunted chivalrousness of the English towards their captive enemies I saw no trace.

For several days we remained in this solitary confinement without knowing what our fate was to be. None of us will ever forget these days of anxious uncertainty. I was examined several times in my cell also. From the ever-increasing strictness of the guards, their constant whispering, the sidelong looks they gave me when they thought they were observed, I concluded that we were in a very serious position.

On four successive nights Zeppelin attacks were made on London, and Chatham also got its share. The excitement of the English, when it was announced, 'The Zepps are coming,' can hardly be described. My nerves had gradually become so dulled that I hardly took any notice of the attacks.

After long, anxious days, we were released from this nerve-racking confinement. I had already given up all hope. An escort came early one morning for us and took us first to London and then to an officer prisoner-of-war camp. I learned that the rest of the crew had been moved the day before. When, after a long railway journey, we arrived at Castle Donington, near Derby, we at last discovered that we were being taken to Donington Hall Camp. So they had realised that they could prove no charge against us. All the same, I was not convinced of this until I saw German uniforms moving about in the distance inside the camp. Until that moment I had been ready for any new, unpleasant surprise; for this time the escort, contrary to previous custom, had been provided with handcuffs.

The road to the camp took a good half-hour, and then the great gates closed behind us with a loud bang. A large number of English officers and Tommies took us into their keeping as 'very dangerous criminals.' Shortly after my arrival at Donington Hall the court-martial on Roger Casement began, lasting for several months and ending with his condemnation. During this time the voyage of the Aud was the subject of constant inquiries on the part of the Government and the Press.

As I learned, partly through the inquiry proceedings, and afterwards from the commander of the U-boat, Sir Roger Casement had reached Tralee Bay late on the evening of our arrival. The U-boat had seen from a distance in the dark the outline of the Aud at Innistooskert, but mistook it for an English destroyer. Thereupon Casement, despairing of the arrival of the Aud, went ashore in a collapsible boat and was arrested next morning by the English who were waiting for him. His arrest had caused so much excitement among the Irish that no one dared to get into communication with us. But Casement's arrest caused the outbreak of the Irish revolution. As, however, the Irish lacked the most necessary things, rifles and heavy artillery, the revolution, bloody and serious as it was, could only fail. Sir Roger Casement was sentenced to be hanged. On the 3rd of August the sentence was carried out. The brilliant defence which Casement made had been of no avail. He died every inch a man, and with the consciousness that the idea for which he had fought and suffered would sink deeper in the hearts of the Irish and bring them nearer to freedom.