More studying and then more studying. It seemed as though I never
would get through. I served as a mate with the Hamburg-American Line
for two years, and prepared myself for the captain's examination.
More mathematics, more astronomy, more mechanics. I plugged and
plugged. Study is no good, but you've got to do it. Finally, I was
ready for the test. I went to a school for a little more
preparation, and succeeded in passing the examination with flying
colours. I was proud, but I was also glad that there would be no
more studying for me now. I was eligible to become a captain. What
further rank was there to make me study again? I served the
Hamburg-American Line until 1911.
Then more school and studies!
I often spent an afternoon with several comrades sailing on the lower
Elbe near Neumuehlen. One day we saw a small catboat and in it a man
who obviously did not know how to sail. He was, in fact, a merchant
of Cologne possessed of more courage than sense. Pretty soon a
jibbing boom knocked him overboard. He couldn't swim, either. He
sank out of sight. I swam and dove for him. I got hold of him and
pushed him up above me, so that he would reach the surface before I
did. When I came up he seized me, wound his arms and legs around me,
and dragged me down. I struggled free, and everything turned black.
I came to the surface, caught my breath, and dove again for him. I
reached him, but an eddying current dragged us both down and down.
Luckily, he was unconscious now, and I was able to grasp him and
fight my way with him to the surface. I swam with my burden to
shore. I was in reaching distance of the pier when I collapsed. Men
waiting there pulled the drowning man out. An old gentleman claims
he fished me out with his umbrella.
A week later, I was called before the authorities who awarded
life-saving medals. They asked me to produce witness of my
life-saving feat. That formality was necessary before they could
give me a medal. I didn't want to bother producing any witnesses,
The matter was dropped there.
I had the good fortune to be able to rescue three other people from
drowning, and then a fifth. That occurred on Christmas Eve, 1911. I
attended a celebration in Hamburg, and returned late to get aboard my
ship, the _Meteor_. I waited on the slip for the ferry. Next to me
stood a customs official. It was bitterly cold. In the flickering
light I saw a man in the water some distance out. He was struggling
faintly. I started to throw off my great-coat. The customs official
held me.
"Are you crazy? Into that icy water? Is it not enough for one man
to drown?"
"But surely I cannot let that man go down."
I slipped out of my overcoat, which he held, and jumped. By Joe,
when I was in there I had the sensation of somebody holding a red-hot
wire around my neck. After a hard swim, I reached my man. It was
lucky for him that it was so cold and that he was so drunk. He was
perfectly rigid now. If you lie still, you don't drown easily. It
was no trouble to swim in with him, except that it was so cold. The
customs man pulled us on to the pier. I could never have got up
alone.
"What a crazy fool," the customs man said. "If I had not been here
you would have jumped in just the same, and you would have drowned."
They took us to a saloon, where they put us between blankets and gave
us grog. I soon got my strength back, likewise my man, an English
sailor named Pearson. He soon had his second load of liquor.
After that exploit, the Hamburg newspapers made much of me,
particularly since I still refused to bother about producing the
witnesses necessary before I could get a life-saving medal. The
editors denounced this instance of red tape. The controversy came to
the notice of Prince Henry of Prussia. A little while later, when I
took part in the yearly manœuvres for reserve officers, I received
an order to appear before him, and he asked me whether I should like
to enter active service. That, I replied, was my greatest desire,
but I was afraid I was too old. He kindly bade me not to worry about
that, and on February 3, 1912, I received the official dispatch:
"Count Luckner is ordered to the navy for active service."
By Joe, now I would have to study. I would have to learn in a few
months what cadets ordinarily learned in three and a half years. The
Emperor had heard of me from Prince Henry and had interested himself
in my case. My tuition was paid for out of his private purse. If I
did not make good marks in my classes, what kind of a Luckner ...
well, by Joe. This was the climax of my whole unhappy career of
study.
After an infantry course came a torpedo course. A torpedo has a
thousand complexities for the student to master. There were four
kinds of torpedoes. One had a hundred and fifty screws. You had to
memorize the names of all the parts and familiarize yourself with the
apparatus so well that you could put it together without help.
"Luckner," I thought, "you will never learn all that. You are as
stupid as when you were in the third grade."
I was afraid and felt pretty bad. I did not do so well with my
studies.
One of my teachers was Lieutenant Commander Pochhammer, whose father
was a professor of Italian literature. His especial subject was
Dante. He gave lectures to the naval students on the _Divine
Comedy_. Strange, I hated study, but I liked these lectures on Dante
and I liked to study Dante. I did not understand much of it, but I
found great pleasure in it. It was because of Beatrice, the Divine
Maiden. I thought she must be the same as my fairy princess.
Whenever Professor Pochhammer spoke of her in his lectures, or
whenever I read about her in the pages of Dante, I was reminded of
that fairy princess I knew must live on the green island the _Niobe_
had sailed by, the fairy princess I had dreamed of aboard the
_Cæsarea_, when old Smutje had whistled "My Heart Is Like a Beehive"
and I had taken up the refrain. The fairy princess, of whom I had
had visions many another time, had been a blessing to me before, and
surely, in a singular way, she was a blessing to me now.
My interest in Dante and Beatrice, as propounded by Professor
Pochhammer, made an excellent impression, not only on the professor
himself, but also on his son Lieutenant Commander Pochhammer and my
other teachers. For Dante's and Beatrice's sake they winked at some
of my most glaring deficiencies. They built up my confidence. I
passed the necessary examination. The Emperor ordered that my
commission be antedated, so that I might have seniority rights of a
longer service than I had actually rendered.
I was assigned to duty aboard the _Preussen_, and there, during my
leisure time, built models of sailing ships.
One night, in a Hamburg café, I sat talking with a friend, a
shipowner.
"When I crossed the harbour to-day," I said, "and saw the sailing
ships. I remembered how I used to sit on a spar while the sun was
setting and listen to a fellow playing a squealer. You know what a
squealer is? An accordion. I wish I could be a sailor back on a
ship again."
"Don't be foolish," my friend replied. "I have never yet heard of a
certified engineer wanting to go back to the anvil."
"But," I insisted, "I want to be a sailor again if only for a few
days, and you must help me."
I made him give me a muster certificate for one of his ships, the
_Hannah_, which was lying in port and taking on a crew. I went to a
seaman's supply store and bought a pair of overalls, a shirt, a blue
and white blouse such as sailors wear, a cap, a blanket, and a
mattress. The blanket and mattress I had sent to the _Hannah_. The
clothing I took with me. I took a cab, and bade the driver go to the
docks. Inside, I took off my naval uniform and packed it in the bag
I had with me, and donned my sailor's togs. At my destination, I got
out. The driver, a decent old fellow, opened his eyes wide.
"Are you the naval officer who got in?"
"Yes."
"Say, what are you going to do? You have changed your clothes so
they won't recognize you when they find you. You are going to drown
yourself."
Rather baffled, I tried to assure him that I had no intention of
drowning myself.
"No, don't tell me that. I know what you are going to do. Please
tell me your troubles. You should not throw away your young life
like that."
I had to give him a long and convincing story about some confidential
mission for the government that I was engaged in, the truth of which
statement I had to swear to solemnly. Then he agreed to leave me and
take my satchel back to the hotel. As he started his horse, he
turned around once more imploringly.
"You are surely not going to do it?"
I rubbed my hands in the dirt, rehearsed my old-time rolling sailor's
gait, and tried to forget my fine manners. I practised an especial
bit to see if I could still light my pipe and spit like a jack-tar.
Hands in pockets, I sauntered on to the ship.
"Ahoy there," I called to the mate, and handed him my muster
certificate.
After a few questions, he bade me the usual welcome.
"All right, Phelax Luedige, come on and get to work."
"No. In the morning I start."
You can tell an old-time competent seaman by his argumentative
independence. The mate gave me a bad look, but was convinced that I
would not go to work until morning.
I strolled back to the galley. The cook, a broad fellow with a red
beard, was standing there. I watched a little fellow washing dishes,
and thought:
"He is just as clumsy as you were once, Phelax."
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[Illustration: The Sea Devil overtakes the _Charles Gounod_.