THE 'LIBAU' SAILS--AND BECOMES THE 'AUD'
The clock in the neighbouring church-tower was clanging out the last of
its six vigorous strokes as the _Libau_, under the mercantile flag,
hauled out from the quay. A pleasant Sunday calm lay over the harbour.
That the start took place on a Sunday was regarded by my men, according
to an ancient sailors' superstition, as a good omen.
Travemünde was passed shortly before dark, and, as we took farewell of
the friendly little town, the engine-room telegraph rang for 'full speed
ahead.' The voyage into the unknown had begun.
I now made the crew acquainted, so far as was absolutely necessary, with
the purpose of the voyage. For the present I said nothing of our course,
or destination, and I avoided naming any names, that the men might know
only so much as the situation demanded.
I did this in the men's own interest, so that if they were taken
prisoners they could truthfully say that they knew nothing. The next
thing was to give each of them a Norwegian name and rating. The
pronunciation of their names gave some of them considerable difficulty,
but I insisted that henceforth no German names were to be used, that
the men might become thoroughly accustomed to their new character.
The enthusiasm with which, for all their astonishment, the crew received
my explanations, gave me confidence that I had made no mistake in my
choice.
Our next care was to see that all articles in common use, clothing,
flags, books, instruments, which all had too brand-new an appearance,
were made to look as aged and venerable as befitted their importance.
More especially, of course, did that apply to the ship's papers, the
various letters and other evidences of the genuineness of our assumed
character. A smoky candle to brown the documents, some dust from under a
floor-mat rubbed in carefully with the palm of the hand, some oil and
grease marks dabbed on with a ball of cotton-waste from the engine-room,
these were the uninviting but effective means that we used in the
operation. Frequent folding and crumpling of the papers gave the
finishing touches.
The books received specially artistic treatment, for, according to the
age which they had to live up to, we threw them one or more times upon
the floor, dog-eared the corners, and loosened some of the leaves. My
men developed a remarkable skill in working up their 'discharges,' and
these were, before long, torn, dirty, and mended up with sticking
plaster. It went to our hearts to subject to the like treatment our
beautiful new kits, but stains of tar and paint, and some roughly put on
patches, soon made them unrecognisable.
The cult of the beard had already made encouraging progress. In cases
where it was too slow, we supplemented it a little with oil and coal
dust.
On the hatches I had dozens of chalk marks, so called tally marks, and
numbers painted on, as though the checkers had been very zealous in
their office. Empty Norwegian preserved-meat tins and old Christiania
newspapers were strewn about in the cabins. In short, we spared no
effort to give our ship and ourselves an appearance corresponding to our
assumed character; and enjoyed ourselves mightily in the process. Now
that the tense expectation and uncertainty of the last few days had
relaxed, and that the men knew what was at stake, and how many thousands
of people were eagerly and anxiously awaiting the arrival of the
_Libau_, they were almost wild with delight. No one thought about the
dangers that lay before us. A single desire animated us all. 'On, on,
into the enemy's territory; and then home again, covered with glory.'
With such a splendid crew one could cheerfully face the devil himself!
About midnight I came to anchor off Warnemünde. The weather had
unfortunately changed for the worse. The rising sea compelled me to
alter my original plan of going through the Sound as a Swede and only
becoming a Norwegian in the Kattegat. Owing to the difficulties of
altering the paint work, that was only possible in good weather. I was
obliged, therefore, to assume the Norwegian mask at once. There was no
sleep for any one that night. Stages were slung over each side of the
ship, and several men swarmed down, and, by the light of their electric
pocket-lamps, painted the name, _Aud-Norge_ in letters a yard and a half
long on the sides.
The work was unfortunately often interrupted by the passing of steamers
and fishing craft, at whose approach we had to put out our electric
lamps, and other difficulties were caused by the rising sea, which often
dashed over the stages and wet us up to our chests, and--worst of
all--washed out at one sweep our laborious efforts with the brush.
Undaunted, however, and stimulated by a couple of tots of spirits to
keep out the cold, we stuck to our posts; for by morning the work must
be done. And done it was. When the first streak of dawn appeared, the
_Aud_, rocking contentedly to the Baltic swell, was ready to the last
paint stroke.