On the morning of October 5th, Lieutenant Koch and his companions,
having obtained a pass for an unofficial "joy ride" in two motor-cars,
set out for a little country village some twenty miles from Pampeluna.
As they were all on parole and the chauffeurs of the hired cars were
connected with the police, permission was given to the party to remain
at their destination for luncheon. It was understood, however, that
as soon as the meal was over the return journey should be made, so as
to be back well before the day was declining. Koch and his friends,
through intermediaries introduced to him by the Vice-Consul of Vigo,
laid their plans very cleverly. Just outside the village is a rustic
inn where excellent luncheons are served. The dining-room looks out, at
the back of the house, on to a garden with a bowling-alley and arbor,
and this garden adjoins meadows, bordered by the railway line. Not far
away is the little country railway station. What happened can easily be
imagined.
The eleven officers had their luncheon served in the restaurant proper;
the chauffeurs were served in a smaller room adjoining, looking out on
to the front and the road. The landlord had been instructed (and had
been well paid in advance for this and other little services) to ply
these two worthy fellows with as much liquor as they could hold, with
the result that they were deep in their cups long before the boisterous
officers had got through their coffee and liqueurs. They were in such
an advanced state of intoxication, indeed, that they took no heed when
a singular silence followed the noise of voices and laughter in the
adjoining room; and it was not until the appointed hour for departure
had long since passed that they recovered their senses sufficiently to
learn the truth. Their erstwhile "joy riders" had flown! They might
have been seen, fully three-quarters of an hour before, strolling
down the garden and making their way, as unobstrusively as possible,
across the fields to the countryside railway station, where, provided
beforehand with tickets for different stations on the line to Vigo,
they boarded the train, once more in as nonchalant a manner as possible
in groups of twos and threes, in different carriages. By the time the
chauffeurs came to their senses and realized they had been fooled, the
fugitives were well out of danger and, having got together again at
the first big stopping-place, had put themselves _en règle_ as regards
through tickets for their common destination, to which they continued
to travel, however, separately, in order to minimize the risks of
capture. The outwitted chauffeurs had another unpleasant surprise on
rushing to their cars, with the object of dashing back to Pampeluna and
recounting to the authorities their sorry tale of misadventure. Though
they cranked their machines like madmen, the motors stubbornly refused
to work. The reason soon became evident: the sparking-plugs had been
removed by the far-seeing Koch.
Meanwhile, on October 2nd, the interned Sergeant Dietrich Gratschuss
had slipped away from Alcala. His escape, facilitated by the four
uninterned officers from the _Goeben_, who provided him with a suit
of civilian clothes, thrown over a wall into the prison-garden where
he worked daily, was made doubly sure by certain judicious bribes to
a sentry, who kept his back turned and eyes averted at the critical
moment. Gratschuss slipped into his disguise in a tool-shed, and calmly
walked out of the prison-yard--saluted by the unsuspecting man on
guard--as though he had been a visitor. His friends were waiting round
the corner for him with a hundred horsepower motor-car, in which, with
the other uninterned Germans (the naval doctor, the law student, and
the two sailors), he was whirled away at sixty miles an hour. The whole
of the journey to Vigo was made in this powerful car, which the owners
had been able to provide with an amply supply of petrol and food for a
long and rapid flight, lasting well into the night.
The whole of the machinery of the Vice-Consul of Vigo was now in
motion. All the fugitives reached that port in safety and scattered
themselves over hotels and lodging-houses.
A hue and cry was, of course, set up from Pampeluna and Alcala de
Henares; but the Spanish police went off on various wrong tracks before
they thought of ordering a watch to be set at all the ports. Even
when this tardy step was taken, no one ever suspected--so well had the
Vice-Consul and his accomplices laid their plans--that Vigo was the
port from which the escape was to be effected.