BLACK NIGHTS ON THE THAMES
ALL was silent around us. The rain ceased. The park lay wrapped in
darkness, and only the light of the huge arc-lamps, which lit up the
night-boundary, streamed faintly towards us. The dull sound of the
sentries’ footsteps as they paced up and down in front of their boxes,
and their calls to each other every quarter of an hour, sounded uncanny
in the stillness. At midnight the guard was changed, and I followed it
with strained attention. Upon this, the orderly officer flashed his
lamp over the day-boundary, and at 12.30 a.m. quiet reigned again.
The moment for action had arrived. I crept softly as a cat from my
hiding-place, through the park up to the barbed-wire fence, to convince
myself that no sentries were about. When I saw that everything was in
order and had found the exact spot where we wanted to climb over, I
crawled back again to fetch Trefftz. Thereupon we returned by the same
way.
When we reached the fence, I gave Trefftz my final instructions and
handed him my small bundle.
I was the first to climb over the fence, which was about 9 feet high,
and every 8 inches the wire was covered with long spikes.
Wires charged with electricity were placed 2½ feet from the ground.
A mere touch would have sufficed to set in motion a system of bells
that would, of course, have given the alarm to the whole camp. We wore
leather leggings as protection against the spikes; round our knees we
had wound puttees, and we wore leather gloves.
But all these precautions were of no avail, and we got badly scratched
by the spikes. However, they prevented us from slipping and coming in
contact with the electric wires. I easily swung myself over the first
fence. Trefftz handed over our two bundles and followed me with equal
ease.
Next we were confronted by a wire obstacle, 3 feet high by 30 feet
wide, contrived according to the latest and most cunning devices. We
ran over it like cats. After this we again came to a high barbed-wire
hedge, built on exactly the same lines as the first, and also
electrically charged. We managed this too, except that I tore a piece
out of the seat of my trousers, which I had to retrieve, in order to
put it in again later.
But, thank God, we were over the boundary!
Trefftz and I clasped hands and looked at each other in silence.
But now the chief difficulty began. Cautiously we went forward in the
darkness, crossing a stream, climbing over a wall, jumping into a
deep ditch, and at last slunk past the guard-house which stood at the
entrance to the camp. Only after that were we in the open.
We ran without stopping along the wide main road which led to Donington
Castle. After half an hour we stopped and took off our leggings and
gloves, which had been slashed and torn by the wire. The palms of our
hands, our feet, to say nothing of other parts of our body, were in a
pretty condition. The barbed wire left us souvenirs which stung for
weeks.
We now opened our bundles, took out civilian grey mackintoshes, and
walked down the road in high spirits as if we were coming from a late
entertainment. When Donington Castle came in sight, we had to be
particularly careful. We had agreed upon all we would do in case we met
anyone.
Suddenly, just as we were turning into the village, an English soldier
came walking towards us. Trefftz embraced me, drew me towards him,
and we behaved like a rollicking pair of love-birds. The Englishman
surveyed us enviously, and went on his way, clicking his tongue. Only
then, something in the stocky, undersized figure made me realize that
it was the sergeant-major of our camp! We stepped out briskly, and
after passing the village we were favoured by chance, and came upon the
bridge about which we had been told. But we were at once confronted
with a critical proposition. The highway branched off here in three
directions, and it was impossible to get any farther without knowledge
of the road. At last, in spite of the darkness, we discovered a
sign-post—an extreme rarity in England. Luckily it was made of iron,
and, when Trefftz had climbed it, he was able to feel with his fingers
the word “Derby” traced on it in raised letters.
We now fell into a quick step, and, taking our bearings by the Polar
star, swung along vigorously. Whenever we came across pedestrians and
cars, and especially when the latter drove behind us, we hid in the
ditch and waited until the danger was past. It was quite natural that
we should surmise the presence of a messenger of Nemesis, ready to
swoop down upon us, in any car that came along. When we were hungry
we ate a little of the ham and chocolate we had brought with us.
Unfortunately, the one was too salt and the other too sweet, so that we
were plagued by an unquenchable thirst which soon became so unbearable
that we could hardly advance. Matters were made worse as we had
perspired freely during our exertions, and now we could find no better
means of slaking our thirst than by standing in the ditch and licking
the raindrops from the leaves, until we found a dirty little pool, on
which we threw ourselves with avidity. And wasn’t it good!
Gradually dawn came. About four in the morning, when we arrived within
sight of the first houses of Derby’s suburbs, the sun rose in majestic
splendour, like a crimson ball on the horizon. We stood enraptured by
this glorious spectacle, and we again shook hands and joyously waved to
the sun.
For he came from Germany, straight from our country; he had caught his
red hues from the red battlefields, and brought us faithful messages
from our beloved ones. A good omen!
We now crept into a small garden and made an elaborate toilet. A
clothes brush performed miracles, and a needle repaired the damage done
to my trousers. The lack of shaving soap was remedied by spittle, after
which our poor faces were subjected to the ministrations of a Gilette
razor. We each sported our solitary collar and tie, leaving the brush
as well as other unnecessary impedimenta behind us. We entered Derby,
looking veritable “Knuts.”
Our luck endured, and not only did we soon find the station where we
separated unobtrusively, but we also learned that the next train for
London was leaving in a quarter of an hour. I took a third-class
return ticket to Leicester and, armed with a fat newspaper, boarded
the train. At Leicester I got out, took a ticket to London, and when I
entered the compartment I discovered, sitting opposite me, a gentleman
clad in a grey overcoat, whom I must have met previously, but of whom I
naturally took no notice. I believe his name began with a T.
About noon the train reached London. When I passed the ticket collector
I must admit that I did not feel quite comfortable, and that my hand
shook a little. But nothing happened, and after a few minutes I was
swallowed up in the vortex of the capital.
It was extremely fortunate that I had spent some time in London two
years previously, and knew my way about. I visited four different
restaurants in turn, where I stilled my hunger by eating moderately
in each, so as to avoid comments on my ravenous appetite. After that
I walked along the Thames, recalling all the streets, bridges and
landing-stages which I knew of yore, and took special note of the
localities where neutral steamers were moored.
I had fondly imagined that conditions would be more favourable, and
that I should at once be able to find a boat. But I now saw that all
the wharves and the majority of the neutral steamers were strictly
guarded, and lay in the middle of the river. At this moment everything
contributed to my depression: the strange surroundings, my insecurity
at the start, when I imagined that every one knew who I was, and could
guess that I had escaped from Donington Hall; also the fatigue and
excitement of the night before, and the feeling of utter loneliness in
the immense, inimical city. I had also failed to get a newspaper with
the shipping intelligence, and this was a bitter disappointment.
Was it to be wondered at that at seven o’clock in the evening I stood
weary and downcast on the steps of St. Paul’s Cathedral, waiting for
Trefftz? I waited until nine, but no Trefftz appeared.
Convinced that Trefftz had already managed his escape on a friendly
steamer, I dragged myself, totally exhausted, to Hyde Park which, to
my further discomfiture, I found closed. What should I do now? Where
should I sleep? I could not stay in the streets if I were to remain
unnoticed, and I did not dare go to an hotel as I had no passport,
which, even for English people, had become compulsory, and without
which no hotel proprietor was allowed to receive visitors.
In a miserable bar, which I had entered to fortify myself, I was only
able to get warm stout and one piece of cake. Everything else had been
consumed, and when the bar closed I was again on the street. I turned
into an aristocratic lane where beautiful mansions were surrounded
by carefully tended gardens. I was hardly able to stand on my feet,
and at the first favourable moment I jumped with quick decision over
one of the garden fences and hid myself in a thick box hedge, only
a foot away from the pavement. It is difficult to describe my state
of mind. My pulses were hammering, and thoughts raced wildly through
my tired brain. Wrapped in my mackintosh, I lay in my hiding-place,
stealthily—like a thief.
If anyone had found me here in this dreadful situation—me, a German
officer! I felt like a criminal, and in my heart I was firmly resolved
never to disclose to anyone the details of my despicable adventure. Oh,
had I known then where I should soon have to hang about at night, and
even find nothing odd in it, I should have felt my position less keenly!
After I had lain for about an hour in my refuge, the French window of
the house, leading to a beautiful veranda, opened, and several ladies
and gentlemen in evening dress came out to enjoy the coolness of the
night. I could see them and hear every word. Soon the sounds of a piano
mingled with those of a splendid soprano voice, and the most wonderful
songs of Schubert overwhelmed my soul with longing.
At last total exhaustion prevailed, and I slept heavily, seeing in my
mind the most beautiful pictures of the future.
Next morning I was awakened by the regular heavy tread of a policeman
who marched up and down the street, quite close to where I lay, with
the bright, warm rays of the sun shining down upon me.
So after all I had overslept—it behoved me to be careful. The
policemen ambled idiotically up and down without dreaming of
departure. At last fortune favoured me. An enchanting little lady’s
maid opened the door, and hey presto! the policeman was at her side,
playfully conversing with the pretty dear.
Without being seen by either, with a quick motion I vaulted over the
fence into the street. It was already six o’clock, and Hyde Park was
just being opened. As the Underground was not yet running, I went into
the Park and dropped full length on a bench, near to other vagabonds
who had made themselves comfortable there. I then pulled my hat over my
face and slept profoundly until nine o’clock.
With fresh strength and courage I entered the Underground, and was
carried to the harbour area. In the Strand huge, yellow posters
attracted my attention, and who can describe my astonishment when I
read on them, printed in big, fat letters, that:
(1) Mr. Trefftz had been recaptured the evening before; (2) Mr.
Plüschow was still at large; but that (3) the police were already on
his track.
The first and the third items were news; but I knew all about the
second. I promptly bought a newspaper, went into a tea-shop, where I
read with great interest the following notice:
“EXTRA LATE WAR EDITION
“HUNT FOR ESCAPED GERMAN
“_High-pitched Voice as a Clue_
“Scotland Yard last night issued the following amended description
of Gunther Plüschow, one of the German prisoners who escaped from
Donington Hall, Leicestershire, on Monday:
Height, 5 feet 5½ inches; weight, 135 lb.; complexion, fair; hair,
blond; eyes, blue; and tattoo marks: Chinese dragon on left arm.
As already stated in the _Daily Chronicle_, Plüschow’s companion,
Trefftz, was recaptured on Monday evening at Millwall Docks. Both men
are naval officers. An earlier description stated that Plüschow is
twenty-nine years old. His voice is high-pitched.
“He is particularly smart and dapper in appearance, has very good
teeth, which he shows somewhat prominently when talking or smiling, is
‘very English in manner,’ and knows this country well. He also knows
Japan well. He is quick and alert, both mentally and physically, and
speaks French and English fluently and accurately. He was dressed in a
grey lounge suit or grey-and-yellow mixture suit.”
[Illustration:
EXTRA LATE WAR EDITION
HUNT FOR ESCAPED GERMAN.
HIGH-PITCHED VOICE AS A CLUE.
Scotland Yard last night issued the following
amended description of Gunther
Pluschow, one of the two German prisoners
who escaped from Donington Hall, Leistershire,
on Monday:—
Height, 5ft. 5½in.; weight, 135lb.; complexion,
fair; hair, blonde; eyes, blue;
and tattoo marks, Chinese dragon on
left arm.
As already stated in “The Daily Chronicle,”
Pluschow’s companion, Treppitz,
was recaptured on Monday evening at
Millwall Docks. Both men are naval
officers. An earlier description stated that
Pluschow is 29 years old. His voice is
high-pitched.
He is particularly smart and dapper in
appearance, has very good teeth, which he
shows somewhat prominently when talking
or smiling; is “very English in manner,”
and knows this country well. He also
knows Japan well. He is quick end alert,
both mentally and physically, and speaks
French and English fluently and accurately.
He was dressed in a grey lounge suit or
grey and yellow mixture suit.
London Prisoner Recaptured.
August Arndt, who escaped from internment
at the Alexandra Palace, North London,
on Sunday, has been recaptured.
FACSIMILE OF NOTICE IN THE “DAILY CHRONICLE” AFTER
THE ESCAPE]
Poor Trefftz! So they had got him! I was clear in my mind as to what I
was going to do, and the warrant gave me some valuable points. First,
I had to get rid of my mackintosh. I therefore went to Blackfriars
Station and left my overcoat in the cloakroom. As I handed the garment
over, the clerk suddenly asked me: “What is your name, sir?” This
question absolutely bowled me over, as I was quite unprepared for it.
With shaking knees I asked: “Meinen?” (mine), answering in German as I
naturally presumed that the man had guessed my identity.
“Oh, I see, Mr. Mine—M-i-n-e,” and he handed me a receipt in the name
of Mr. Mine. It was a miracle that this official had not noticed my
terror, and I felt particularly uncomfortable when I had to pass the
two policemen who stood on guard at the station, and who scrutinized me
sharply.
I had escaped in a dark blue suit which had been made in Shanghai and
worn in quick succession by Messrs. Brown and Scott, by the millionaire
MacGarvin and then by the locksmith, Ernst Suse, then again falling on
better days when donned by a German naval officer, and now concluding
its existence on the body of the dock labourer, George Mine. Under the
coat I wore a blue sailor’s jersey which a naval prisoner had given
to me at Donington Hall. In my pocket I carried a tattered old sports
cap, a knife, a small looking-glass, a shaving-set, a bit of string and
two rags which represented handkerchiefs. In addition, I was the proud
possessor of a fortune of 120 shillings which I had partly saved and
partly borrowed; but never, either then or later, did I possess papers
or passports of any kind.
I now sought a quiet, solitary spot. My beautiful soft hat fell
accidentally into the river from London Bridge; collar and tie followed
suit from another spot; a beautiful gilt stud held my green shirt
together. After that a mixture of vaseline, bootblack and coal dust
turned my blond hair black and greasy; my hands soon looked as if
they had never made acquaintance with water; and at last I wallowed in
a coal heap until I had turned into a perfect prototype of the dock
labourer on strike—George Mine.
In this guise it was quite impossible to suspect me of being an
officer, and “smart and dapper” were the last words anyone could have
possibly applied to me. I think that I played my part really well,
and, after I had surmounted my inner repulsion against the filth of my
surroundings, I felt safe for the first time. I was in a position to
represent what I intended to be—a lazy, dirty bargee, or a hand from a
sailing ship.