THE MYSTERIOUS HARBOUR
FRONTIER PROWLING--STARTLING RUMOURS--TERRIBLE WEATHER--EVADING
SENTRIES--MAPPING THE WORKS--REFUGE WITH SMUGGLER--CONFIDENCES ON
SUPER-SUBMARINES AND ZEPPELINS--A COUNTRY INN--PREPARING
DESPATCHES--FORCIBLE INTRUSION--ARRESTED FOR A GERMAN SPY--SEARCH
AND INTERROGATION--SUMMARY TRIAL--TRICKING THE SEARCHERS--COMMITTED
FOR TRIAL--ESCAPE.
Whilst prowling along the northern frontier of Germany in the early
spring of 1915, with a companion whom I would have trusted with my life,
we quite unwittingly got caught in a manner least expected.
I had been over the frontier more than once, but never far into the
interior. I had neither occasion nor object in so doing. I was at the
time on the lookout for some Danish workmen who I knew had been employed
on some of the important and secret war material of Germany. If I could
meet them on German soil, so much the better; they would then be much
more likely to open out and talk more freely than they would do if met
elsewhere. I had had experience of this and was at the time most anxious
to get corroborative evidence of some rather startling rumours which I
had recently heard regarding the (later on called) Paris Big Gun.
Whilst so prowling, as before mentioned, we heard speak of a certain
harbour. The mysterious harbour, it was called, which no one might
visit, which was jealously guarded, and which the Germans had every
intention of occupying at an early date. Wild, speculative talk,
perhaps, but it was enough to determine me to go and see for myself and
so learn the truth and judge the possibilities from the facts gathered.
Not so many miles from the Island of Femern, where the German warship
_Gazelle_ was torpedoed by an English submarine in the spring of 1915,
although the fact was never communicated to the English Press, it was
said to be situated. A small, exceedingly convenient harbour, with at
least eighteen feet depth of water at all tides, and it was said to be
capable of great developments.
Its existence was not chronicled in ordinary guide-books nor on the maps
in general circulation. Visitors were not welcomed and the local
inhabitants were fearful lest their neighbourhood should be seized and
overrun by undesirable foreigners.
During the period with which we are concerned frost at night was
intense. All open marshland was frozen as solidly as if encased in iron,
whilst the ice-bound ditches, canals, and drains were levelled to the
headland with drifted snow. Storms, of varying magnitude, were of daily
occurrence. Cruel winds swept the bleak area visited, cutting through
the thickest of garments till the marrow in one's very bones seemed
congealed. No one at the time, acting from his own free will, would have
appreciated either a business or a pleasure trip to the harbour in
question. Yet early one eventful morning, when the weather was at its
worst and everyone else had sought shelter, we braved the elements and
attempted to lay a course through the maze of marshland roads, dams and
banks, which would not have been an easy task to many of the natives.
Our struggle to win through these and other unseen difficulties seemed
hopeless. But our minds were made up. We were both determined,
obstinate, persistent. Many times we were blown flat by the violence of
the storm. Many times we fell, sunk to our necks, in a snowdrift. Many
times we lost our way and had to retrace our steps or correct our
course. But all the while we proceeded forward, with lips compressed and
faces set in grim determination, to accomplish the task we had in hand;
to view, to inspect, and to survey roughly the harbour and its works.
Not a soul was observable upon all that vast flat area stretching away
uninterruptedly to the horizon as far as the eye could command on either
hand. The distant, dull, booming, angry roar of the sea upon the
breakwaters and the shrieking wind made conversation impossible. No
cover was available until the great embankment was attained. It guarded
some tens of thousands of acres of reclaimed land. What a relief it was
to us poor wayfarers to reach this comparative haven of peace, an oasis
in the desert of howling storm! We had traversed many, many weary miles
of most awful walking, under most exhausting circumstances, and a long
rest was indeed welcome. Having reached the embankment unobserved, the
remainder of the venture was, comparatively speaking, an easy matter.
With such a gale in progress no vessel was likely to brave the mines
laid out under the Admiralty administration of several nations and to
attempt a passage from the sea. On the land side, the temporary railway
and all roads concentrated upon a point where a cluster of new houses
had sprung up, which at the moment in question were full of
individuals--refugees from the storm and others. The windows of these
houses commanded every road within miles. Was it likely, the sentries
undoubtedly argued within themselves, or to be suspected for a moment,
that anyone in sane senses would attempt to avoid these solid paths and
risk an approach to the harbour through the swamps (although they were
frozen) and by way of the embankments thus reached, to the east and
west? If there were such rash and foolish people about then they ran a
good chance of being lost and frozen to death.
So it was that even the sentries were under cover, making life as
pleasant as could be, drinking coffee heavily strengthened with brandy,
and playing cards for small stakes.
Having rested and eaten and drunk from a thermos flask, we proceeded
along the sea side of the embankment with as much caution as though
travelling in an enemy's country. Somewhat to our surprise we
encountered not a living being, not even a stray dog to exercise his
lungs at strangers. On arrival at the harbour, which was concealed from
view of the houses by the height of the embankment before mentioned, we
quickly and dexterously got to work, free from observation or
interruption. My companion kept watch on the main entrances whilst I
overran the works, mapped and thoroughly investigated them, sounded and
checked water depths, accommodation calculated, and the quay head-room,
and roughly surveyed and noted to the minutest detail all the
surroundings, in a very short space of time.
As soon as this work was accomplished we left the danger zone. It was
unwise to linger a moment longer than was necessary in such a situation.
Retracing our steps until we were quite convinced there was no chance of
trouble from possible prying followers, we paused on the outskirts of a
small wood. It was the first rest since our objective had been left, it
was the first opportunity we had had to exchange a sentence.
"Why not look in and see old Pedersen, the smuggler? He may know
something."
"Good; let us go then." This was all I had to say.
In a lonely hut, in still more lonely and uninviting surroundings,
resided the interesting individual sought. He was a friend of long
standing with my companion, whom he received with every outward sign of
cordiality and pleasure. But how deceptive can be the ways of men time
will show. Coffee was at once put on the hob to boil, and a liberal
supply of potato-brandy and eatables forthcoming. The glow of the fire
and warm food after long exposure caused my blood to tingle in my veins,
down to toe- and finger-tips. The sensation was glorious, and a quiet
smoke crowned the extreme bliss of the moment.
In due course ordinary generalities of conversation broadened further
afield. The grey-haired, bright-eyed old deluder of Revenue officers
dilated upon the war pickings and opportunities which seemed to be
bringing him a rich harvest. It appeared he had many relations living
and working in Germany. They helped him not a little. Custom officials
on that side also knew him well. They winked at most things now which
before the war would have been suppressed with an iron hand. His goings
and comings were of more frequent occurrence. His business proceeded
almost openly, and he was accumulating money as he had never done in
his life before.
No, he did not fear the mines. It was true there were plenty of them.
Danish, German, Russian, and English. He knew exactly where each group
was laid; thus he avoided them.
Yes, he believed the English had laid out some mines. He could not say
for certain, but he had seen English submarines in the Femern Belt. He
had spoken them and he knew English when he heard it. Of course they
must have laid out some mines.
Everyone knew of the existence and whereabouts of the Danish and of the
German mines. Fishermen who were daily at sea, fishing or cruising
around after one thing and another, had seen and heard quite enough
about them; but the Russian mines were another proposition. He believed
most of the Russian mines were floating ones, either from design or
accident. Anyway, there were plenty of them about. The more the merrier
so far as he was concerned. They kept a lot of people away and they did
not frighten him. It was all good for business.
For some time the old man ran on with the utmost freedom of speech,
which tended to disarm any suspicions we might have entertained against
him. We, however, gave no hint of our doings. We preferred to pose as
good listeners.
When he turned his conversation to the building of new submarines and
airships, and events and happenings in the interior of Germany, I drew
into deeper reticence and avoided asking questions which might have
raised possible suspicions of the deep absorbing interest such knowledge
carried. The veteran smuggler apparently had two brothers working on war
machines in German territory, and they had told him----
Here he broke off in the middle of a sentence to ask his long-lost
friend who I was, where I came from, and all about me.
It appeared that overcome by the strong wind, coupled with perhaps the
stronger alcoholic libations, I had fallen asleep.
"Oh, you need not trouble about him. He's a Norwegian ship's captain,
whose ship is stranded up at Marstal. He is visiting a few friends
hereabouts and doing a little duck-shooting with me. He's a real good
sort and quite all right." "Of course," replied the smuggler, "I knew if
he was with you he must be all right. But in these times you never know,
so you'll have to excuse my asking"; and he continued to describe all he
had heard and knew concerning the building of the new improved German
submarines, which were claimed to be able to run at great speed on the
surface and to traverse a distance of some thousands of miles
independent of base reliance for resupplies.
When the subject had been exhausted he switched off to the 1915
Zeppelins, upon which another brother had been for some time employed.
These engines of destruction, he stated, would be a wonderful
improvement on all former known airships of their kind. They would be
very much larger; have their cars covered in; there would be more of
them; their speed would be materially increased and their capacity for
weight-carrying considerably augmented. There were many other minor yet
important details which the old man, in his enthusiasm, enlarged upon in
garrulous volubility.
At last there seemed nothing more to tell and a renewal of the journey
was suggested, but so soundly did the pseudo Norwegian captain sleep
that it took the combined efforts of both of them, with much prodding
and shaking, before he could be aroused from his lethargy. When
apparently I was only half awake we left the hut, cursing the
belligerents generally for upsetting everybody's livelihood, instead of
thanking our late host for the friendly shelter and hospitality; nor did
I offer any apology for having slept throughout his most interesting
discourse upon these unknown things.
The old smuggler audibly expressed an unsought opinion that the liquor
had got the better of my senses. I was gratified by that.
Later in the afternoon we found ourselves in the neighbourhood of a
small township. We made our way to an inn in the main street, where we
ordered something substantial to eat.
To specially prepare a meal anywhere on the Continent takes time. At a
remote country inn where nothing is kept in readiness it takes much more
time than elsewhere. An hour is the minimum. I sought my bedroom with an
excuse for forty winks, giving orders to be awakened as soon as the soup
was on the table.
Every hostelry bedroom in the north of Europe is provided with a table,
pens, ink and writing materials. A few minutes after the door had been
locked I might have been seen seated at table preparing a despatch and
puzzling deeply over certain sprawled hieroglyphics which had apparently
been made on rough paper, _possibly inside my pocket with a pencil stump
when perhaps reclining in an awkward position and unable or unwilling to
see to guide the fingers which gripped the active stump of lead_. Be
that as it may, the writing was awfully bad and very difficult indeed to
make out. I studied it with the greatest of care all ways, upside down,
and at every angle; whilst the smiles on my face may have portrayed
evident satisfaction at the result.
Suddenly a heavy tread caused the solid stairs to creak, and loud
knocking, equivalent to peremptory demands, upon the door of my room
caused me to jump in my chair as though a guilty conscience plagued my
peace of mind. Quick as lightning I removed and concealed certain
precious belongings, doubled up the sheet of paper upon which I was
working, and started to scribble silly messages upon some picture
postcards I had purchased at the village store to people of no
importance who lived at no great distance away.
Again the knocking was repeated, this time louder and more emphatic than
before. "All right, my friend, no hurry. Take all things quietly and all
things will be well." But the impatient visitor would not and did not
wait. He placed so much force behind the lock that it yielded, and he
nearly fell on to his nose as the door gave way.
Recovering himself he came quickly forward, and I rose to meet him half
way.
"You know who we are?" he said to me.
"My dear sir, I exceedingly regret to say that I have not that
pleasure," I replied.
"We are police officers." As he spoke, another burly individual appeared
in the opening of the doorway, who, without sign of interest in the
preliminary conversation, proceeded to prop up the broken door to some
semblance of its former state. "You have just landed from Femern and we
arrest you as a German spy."
At these words my eyes glittered, I clenched my hands in a way which did
not augur well for the visitors.
"My good sir," I muttered through compressed lips, "you may do what you
please, and you may assign me to any nationality in the wide, wide
world, except that one. I am not in any way related to the barbarians,
nor will I permit you to take me for one. If you repeat such an
insulting accusation again I shall throw you out."
"You forget, sir, you are under arrest," he snapped.
"I do not forget that, if I am anything at all, I am an Englishman, and
that I am in a private apartment. If the door is guarded, the window is
not; you will observe that it is an unpleasant height from the ground to
fall."
"Anyway, you pass yourself off as a Norwegian, now you say you are
English, but we know you are German. Search his belongings, sergeant,
and search thoroughly." Saying which the senior officer coolly proceeded
to take up and to read the postcards on the table.
It was not a pleasant position to be in, and well I knew it. The new law
was very elastic. It made it an offence to use the telegraph, the
telephone or the postal facilities, or to enlist directly or indirectly
any assistance from any native for the purpose of conveying any
information which could be considered likely to be of use to any
belligerent power; whilst the only literature which had recently found
favour in the eyes of the reading public seemed to relate to spies and
espionage, whether in fact or in fiction. Hence every local junior or
senior police or other officer seemed to imagine himself a born Sherlock
Holmes. In vain I indignantly protested against the intrusion. It
merely seemed to whet their appetite for investigation. Every belonging
I had with me was turned inside out, even to the lining of my raiment.
Hats and boots were separately and collectively opened up, whilst the
marks on my linen, off and on, were compared and commented upon.
"Perhaps a cigar would cool you down a bit?" I remarked somewhat
sarcastically, but the suggestion was refused with an indignant snort.
"Well, I presume there is no objection to my smoking, even if _you_
don't care about it," I added, as I bit the end off a big black cigar
and hunted round for matches. Blindly ignoring a box on the table, I
eventually extracted some from the pocket of my greatcoat, which was
hanging on a peg. In doing so I pulled out a glove which fell to the
floor.
Of course my every action was watched. But I did not appear to notice
this until I had twice paced the floor smoking. Then, seeing the glove
lying there, I picked it up and sarcastically offered it for
examination, after which I placed it in my side pocket. Quite a natural
thing to do.
Meanwhile, it should have been recorded that I had purposely left the
folded piece of paper containing the partly-written message lying on the
table and in sight during the whole interview. When the officer had
advanced to read the postcards I had taken care to be there first. I had
carelessly picked up the aforesaid paper and played with it; twisting it
round my fingers as though it were a piece of string. When the officer
was out of reach of the table I threw it down again. If he came closer I
annexed it and played with it as before.
After the glove incident, the officer, evidently in command, made a dash
to secure it. I reached and picked it up just a second before him and
proceeded to twist it with even greater vehemence than before round my
fingers, as though my nerves were somewhat strained.
The officer held out his hand for it. Instead of giving it to him direct
I first passed the paper from one hand to the other. A very simple thing
indeed in itself to the uninitiated, but that little act covered an
operation which if bungled might have provided me with solitary
confinement for a period of many years. As the officer unrolled the
twisted paper I had handed over it proved to be utterly devoid of
interest or utility; it was, in fact, a piece of blank paper, in size
about the thickness of a man's thumb. By way of explanation to the
reader I must add that in years gone by I had been an adept in the art
of legerdemain, thus it was easy for me to deceive him and also to
dexterously convey the original document into the thumb of the glove
which lay conveniently for such purpose in my right-hand coat pocket.
After an hour and a half of search and interrogation the two officers
engaged in whispered conversation and the venue was changed.
In due course I was arraigned before the head magistrate of the
district, a stern but just man who appeared to carry much weight and
influence in local affairs. He was the equivalent to our lord lieutenant
of a county in England, and probably to a State governor in the U.S.A.
His first step embraced a bodily search to the skin in which I, the
prisoner, helped by turning out my pockets and opening up my clothes,
and giving all seemingly possible assistance.
After three and a half hours' interrogation I was dismissed, but
informed I must not leave the inn without a permit. Meanwhile my
travelling companion was also thoroughly overhauled and examined apart
from me and _in camera_.
Whilst this second act of the drama was in progress I was chuckling in
my room. With most satisfactory smiles I extracted my various treasures.
From the roll of my collar I drew forth a document of value. It looked
uncommonly like a rough sketch plan, as indeed it was--quite a good map
of the mysterious harbour which had so suddenly sprung into existence.
My handkerchief was not without a crumpled paper within its folds;
whilst my glove was sought and relieved of its twisted draft despatch.
But what amused me most of all was a book entitled _King Alcohol_, a
discourse on the curse of drink. I had called special attention to this
book, a Danish edition of Jack London, and it had been indignantly cast
upon the table both by the magistrate and the officers.[9] It had lain
there with my glove, pocket-handkerchief, pipe and tobacco-pouch as
uninteresting and neglected throughout the proceedings. This book was
bound in a paper cover, but even an ordinary paper cover can hide more
than some people would give credence to. In this it concealed
blocked-out silhouettes on very thin paper of every fighting vessel in
the German Navy. I had been using them--oh, so recently!
Laughing softly to myself, I reflected on the deception; the very
openness of which was its greatest safety. The repacking of my disturbed
belongings was necessary, and then I wondered how my companion was
faring at the hands of the authorities, whose exasperation and
disappointment at not finding any of the evidence they had expected with
such seeming certainty upon me was badly concealed.
One reflection led to another. How, when, and where had the local police
or the military been led to suspect us, to hit our trail? Who had given
information and what did they really know? The more I turned the matter
over in my mind the more puzzled I became. Could the old smuggler have
communicated possible suspicions? Could we have been seen at work on the
harbour? Was my companion everything I believed him to be? It was one of
those riddles which Secret Service agents are constantly being called
upon to face, but if they seriously trouble themselves trying to solve
them they are apt to fall early victims of brain fever.
The examinations had been severe as to past movements, intentions,
motives, and present occupation or pastime. The mention of wild-fowling
had been received with ridicule until an argument convinced the
magistrate that I knew far more about that sport than he did; whilst
addresses of certain local fowlers, which had been given him with
seeming reluctance, were at once tested by telephone with results not
unfavourable to his temporary prisoners.
Our interrogators either knew, or had assumed a knowledge, that the
harbour had been visited; whilst they had searched diligently and
persistently for any trace of a plan or particulars relating to it.
When the magistrate returned from his second search he announced his
final decision to send us both as prisoners under an escort to
Copenhagen to be tried by the higher tribunal which handled these
affairs. This sentence would have been acted upon forthwith had I not
questioned the authority and the wisdom of carrying any further so
delicate a matter as interference with our personal liberty when there
was no evidence whatever for him to go upon. My criticisms were
pleasantly and playfully worded, but they were also concise and crushing
in their logic; besides which they carried throughout a quiet
threatening undertone that portended possible international trouble,
with severe punishment upon unauthorised officials who tampered
unlawfully with the freedom of a loyal subject of His Gracious Majesty,
King George the Fifth of England.
Thus it came about that the informal court adjourned until the morrow,
and our long-deferred meal was the more appreciated.
Discussing an after-dinner smoke, my companion unanimously agreed with
me that wild-fowling in that particular neighbourhood hardly augured
well, nor did it hold out promise or comfortable prospects; that
although the suspicions which had been aroused had been checkmated for
the moment, there seemed every probability that further trouble was
likely to develop. Perhaps it would be better far to solve the
difficulty and ease the minds of all parties concerned if a rapid,
mysterious departure, which left no traceable trail behind, was taken.
* * * * *
Later in the day, as the twilight darkened into night, two shadows might
have been seen for a moment as they angled the corner of the inn in
that southernmost Danish township and disappeared in the surrounding
gloom; travellers once more amidst the flotsam and jetsam of life's
highway; travelling they knew not whither, with but one mind and one
paradoxical thought--to seek for, and at the same time to avoid, the
unknown.
FOOTNOTE:
[9] The Danes being a race of notoriously hard drinkers resent any
literature savouring of Prohibition.