I had sailed on the Canadian schooner, _Flying Fish_, bound from
Novia Scotia to Jamaica with a cargo of lumber. We had already
entered the harbour of Kingston when the wind left us. While we were
becalmed, we made ready for discharging the cargo. The ship lurched
with a slight but unexpected roll. A beam slipped and fell against
my leg. The bone snapped just above the ankle. They took me to a
hospital ashore. On German ships, the owner is responsible for all
accidents aboard, but on Canadian ships, you pay your own hospital
bills.
"How much money have you?" they asked me at the hospital.
I replied that I had six pounds coming to me from the ship, which,
according to regulations, the captain would deposit for me with the
German consul, together with whatever articles of property I had on
the ship. The hospital was not expensive, and the surgeon said the
money would be enough.
Three weeks after I entered the hospital, they sent to the German
Consulate for my money. Only three pounds was to my credit there.
The captain of the _Flying Fish_ had sailed away, taking half of my
money with him. None of my belongings were at the Consulate either.
He hadn't even bothered to leave them for me. At the hospital, they
called me a liar and threw me out into the street. The plaster cast
was still on my leg and foot. For clothing I had only what I had
worn to the hospital, trousers, jacket, and one boot.
I could not walk unaided, but I dragged myself to a stick of bamboo,
which I broke into a length that I could use as a cane. With this
support I could limp along.
"Phelax," I said to myself, "you must go to the ocean. It is your
element. You must go to the beach."
I went to the sandy shore and lay there. When night came, I buried
myself in the sand and slept all night, slept well. In the morning,
I was half starved. I found some cocoanuts. Although terrible food
for an empty stomach, I tried to eat them. While sitting there
wondering what would become of me, a steamer arrived.
"Phelax," I said, "you are a sailor and there is a ship."
I took my stick and hobbled along the beach and down the long pier.
The ship was a British collier, and they were making ready to unload
coal. I went to the mate, told him what had happened to me, and
asked him for a chance. The plaster cast was still on, and below my
trouser leg my huge white foot looked like a club. In the hospital,
I hadn't had a haircut or a shave. My hair was long and matted. My
beard was half grown. My face was burned red from lying in the sun.
The mate eyed me up and down.
"You look like a bum, by Joe. Clear out, by Joe, get out."
So they kicked me out, kicked me off a dirty collier, by Joe.
The collier discharged its coal in bags, and I found an empty bag. I
was glad to have any new possession, even a gunny bag. I washed it
out on the beach, and at night used it for a pillow. I still had my
sheath knife, and a Negro helped me cut the plaster cast from my leg
and foot. Half of the skin went with it. The tropical sun burned
the raw flesh until it swelled and ached dreadfully. The coal sack
did me good service now. I stepped into it and wrapped the rest of
it around my leg. It was a stocking and a shoe for me.
I saw a Negro cutting bamboo and gave him a hand. He took me to his
hut and handed me sixpence and some maize to eat. It was cooked and
warm. For days I had had only cocoanuts to eat. It was delicious.
Rain began to fall, a heavy, tropical rain. It would not be good
sleeping on the beach that night. I asked him to give me shelter in
his hut. He looked at me just like the mate of that collier had
done. Although he wouldn't have me in his hut, he said I might sleep
in an old shanty covered with palm leaves where he kept his tools.
It was dry, but all night I could hear cockroaches running around, on
the walls, on the palm leaves, and big rats chasing them. Whenever I
fell off to sleep, they ran over my face. Next morning the Negro
gave me cooked maize again, and then we went out to cut bamboo.
Over the bay I saw a white boat, a wonderful white boat. It looked
like a yacht. Oh, by Joe, if I could only get a chance on a
beautiful boat like that. I hobbled down to the pier. The boat was
coming in. It was a warship. Then I recognized the flag, the German
flag. It was the _Panther_, the first German warship I had ever
seen. It was so white and clean, oh, home, so white and clean! I
was miserable and hungry, and there were my countrymen, a warship of
my country. I felt my tangled beard and my long tangled hair. I
looked down at my tattered clothes and the coal sack on my foot.
Could I go to my country's ship looking as I did? I only stood and
watched. Four officers in white uniforms came down the gangway and
down the pier. I went toward them to hear the sound of German, and
when I heard it I was never so ashamed of myself. They passed near
me, but did not look at me.
"Phelax," I said, "that was what you might have been if you had
stayed at home and studied those lessons."
I felt I could not look at the _Panther_ any longer, and went
wandering miserably around the town. It was dark. Three or four
sailors came down the street. They were talking and laughing. One
of them, a gigantic fellow, spoke in broad Saxon. When I heard my
native dialect, I thought to myself: "In the darkness nobody can see
how you look. It would be good to talk a few words in Saxon."
"Hello, _Landsmann_," I sang out, and I never let myself go so
broadly in the Saxon dialect as I did then.
He stopped and talked with me. He was a stoker on the _Panther_ and
hailed from Zwickau in Saxony.
Those fellows made me tell them about my plight. Could they spare me
a piece of bread? I asked.
"Sure," replied the Saxon. "Meet me at the end of the pier at six
bells. I have no more time now. I must go back on board."
I was at the end of the pier fifteen minutes ahead of time. The
Saxon came off the ship and gave me a great loaf of rye bread.
"Come to-morrow at the same time," he said, "and there will be
another loaf for you."
I did not sleep that night, but passed the hours on the beach eating
that bread. I nibbled it in slow bites so that I might not lose any
of the delight.
The Saxon gave me a loaf of bread every night, and finally said:
"To-morrow is Sunday, and on Sunday we have coffee and cakes aboard.
Come aboard the _Panther_ at half-past three to-morrow, and have
coffee and cakes."
"By Joe, mate, can I come aboard a German warship like this?"
"Never mind, boy, we'll receive you." And he persuaded me to do what
I wanted to do more than anything else.
When the sun rose the next morning, I started to make my toilet. The
beach was my dressing room. The ocean was both mirror and wash
basin. I scrubbed my hands and face with sand and water. I ran my
fingers through my hair and beard, trying to comb them. I tried to
smoothe the wrinkles out of my coat and trousers. I tucked the coal
bag around my leg and foot fifty times, to make it look its best. I
sneaked on board like a criminal. The sailors gave me a good
reception. Everybody sat on benches, and had coffee and cake. There
was a cannon under a tarpaulin. I tried to get a glimpse of it. I
was bashful and ill at ease. I felt as though I was among rich
people in a mansion.
The young officer of the watch passed and saw me. The sailors jumped
up, and stood at attention. I stood up, putting the foot with the
coal sack behind the other one to hide it. The officer called the
boatswain.
"In the future," he said, "I want you to see that no such tramps get
aboard. Throw this unspeakable creature off.
"Get out of here," yelled the boatswain.
I slunk across the deck to the gangplank like a beaten dog. I had
seen this beautiful ship. I had seen a German warship for the first
time. Poor castaway that I was, the sailors had welcomed me aboard.
Holy feelings had been aroused in me. And now...