CHAPTER IV

TAKEN PRISONER

“Your ships sailed away in the direction of Zanzibar just before dawn this morning.”

This was the unwelcome news with which the steward greeted me at 6 a.m. on the morning following that adventurous 28th of November. It was a facer! I could not understand why they had abandoned me, and it was not until long afterwards that I learned that when I had crouched down in the boat to shelter from the flying bullets those in the pinnace thought that I had been killed.

I got up, washed and dressed, and just as I was leaving my cabin the captain came to me and said: “A guard has come to take you ashore. You had better have some coffee before you go.” I thanked him, drank the coffee when it arrived, and then said “good-bye.” I should like here to put on record that Captain Gauhe treated me throughout the whole business with the utmost consideration.

When he saw me, the man who had been sent to fetch me grinned all over his face. He was of a German Colonial type, and was wearing ordinary clothes, with the addition of a badge of black, white and red on his shoulders. He also wore a bandolier and carried a rifle. A small motor-boat conveyed us to the shore, and I was taken first to the house of Herr Human, one of the civil officials. To him I explained my case, and he took down full particulars in writing. He then assured me that in due course I should be returned to Zanzibar, but that in the meantime I must be kept nominally under arrest until arrangements could be made for sending me back. He gave some instructions in German to my guard, who then marched me through the town. It was Sunday morning, and the bells were ringing for service. We met many German women on their way to church, and they stared at me with undisguised curiosity.

I looked eagerly around for signs of the bombardment, but in the part of the town through which I was taken there was not much damage to be seen. Here and there a branch was broken off a tree, or there was a hole in the ground, and I saw one house with a corner knocked away and the room within exposed to view, but nothing more.

Proceeding in a northerly direction, we soon left the houses behind, and passed the great enclosure originally destined for the Dar-es-Salaam Exhibition of 1914. Beyond this we came upon some native troops encamped in a cocoanut plantation. Here I was taken before an officer who spoke no English, but he gave me a seat and a glass of iced soda-water while he conversed with my guard. I gathered that the officer did not want to take charge of me, so, after a short rest, we went on.

We now wandered about on the outskirts of the town from one point to the other. I was taken before many officers, who glanced at me curiously, shook their heads, and directed us elsewhere.

I noticed that my guard was getting “fed up,” and no wonder! It was now about 11 a.m., and fearfully hot, and he was weighed down with his rifle and equipment. At length we struck an officer who spoke a little English. He was one of a group standing in a little glade, and they were passing beer-bottles around while their ponies cropped the grass. To him my guard explained the situation, after which he flung himself on the ground firmly refusing to go any further! There was a great laugh at this, and another man—a black-bearded fellow from the backwoods—was detailed for my guard. After a bottle of beer, which temporarily put new life into me, I started off once more with my new escort. He seemed to have a much clearer idea of where to go. We returned to the town, and I was taken to a large building which proved to be the terminus of the Central Railway.

Here I was given a seat in the waiting-room, which appeared to be used as a military depôt. Some badged clerks were employed in sending and receiving telegrams, and officers of various ranks kept popping in and out. They looked at me with curiosity, but evidently I was no concern of theirs, for they left me in peace.

I began to get very bored, and wished something would happen. Also I was very hungry, for it was past midday and I had had nothing to eat since the biscuit with my coffee at 7 a.m.

Then there entered an officer who knew English, and evidently thought it would be interesting to exchange views about the war. He was a tall, spare fellow with close-cropped red hair, a fair, bushy moustache, and extraordinarily blue eyes—what I believe are sometimes called “china blue.” We had a long chat, and I found him very amicable, though grossly misinformed. He seemed to think me even more ignorant!

The conversation began by his asking me: “Are you from the —— or the ——?” naming our ships.

I parried by saying: “What makes you think those ships are here?”

“Oh,” he laughed, “we know the ——, she has often been here, but we did not know the name of the battleship until we took your men prisoners yesterday; then we read it on their caps.”

“What! have you other prisoners?” I exclaimed in surprise, for I thought I was the only man left behind.

“Why, yes,” he answered; “we took three officers and eight men from the steamer _Koenig_.”

“What are their names?” I asked.

“Ah, I don’t know the names,” he answered; and then went on to enquire: “Do you get the news every day in your ships?”

I replied that we got it by wireless.

“Ah! then you know how splendidly our armies are doing in Europe.”

“You have not yet reached Paris,” I said.

“Our army will be in Paris within a week. We have taken Calais,” he affirmed.

“When did you take Calais?”

“The day before yesterday. Did you not know?”

“No. I saw the news yesterday morning, before I left the ship. Then you were many miles from Calais.”

“Ah! they are hiding it from you. They do not let you know the truth.”

“What of the Russians?” I asked.

“Oh, the Russians!” he laughed. “The Russians are finished—absolutely.”

“I do not believe that.”

“Ah, that is because you do not know the truth.”

“I think your information must be wrong,” I maintained. “We receive Reuter’s news daily, and it is quite different from what you tell me.”

He snatched up some papers from a table. “Do you read German?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“Ah, that is a pity,” he said. “If you could, you might have read it here. But what I have told you is the truth.”

I, too, felt that it was a pity, for it would have been interesting to see the sort of stuff they were being fed with.

He tapped the papers in his hand: “This is German official news—it cannot lie. We know your Reuter also, but Reuter is lies—lies—all lies. After the war Reuter will have to pay heavily for trying to conceal the truth from the world.”

I smiled and said: “I am sorry I cannot agree with you.”

He flung the papers back on the table, shrugged his shoulders, and said: “You do not want to believe; but one day you will know that I speak the truth.”

Then, changing the conversation, he asked if I had had anything to eat. On my replying that I had had nothing since seven o’clock, “Have you any money?” he queried. I answered: “Not a coin!” He spoke for a moment in German to my guard, and then turning to me said: “I have told the guard to take you to the hotel. You can order what you like, and England shall pay—after the war.”

I laughed. “I don’t care who pays so long as I get something to eat now!”

I was taken to a small hotel just across the road from the station. I forget its name, but it was not the palatial “Kaiserhof.” We took seats at a table in a sort of portico. As my guard could not speak English, conversation was limited, and we both applied ourselves to the fare in front of us. I made a good meal, but missed the bread and pudding, neither of which is here considered essential to the midday repast.

There were several Germans lunching at different tables, and I was interested to note that the majority of them drank whisky and soda in preference to beer. Later I found that the former was the most common beverage throughout the Colony. I and my guard also drank whisky—more than one! I believe his was also at the expense of England. I wonder when the proprietors will be paid!

After our meal we returned to the station, and there had another long wait. It was a very hot afternoon, and there was not much business doing. The clerks apparently could not leave their posts, but a native boy was kept busy the whole time running over to the hotel and returning with whiskies.

While sitting in the waiting-room I was startled by a loud explosion, followed at intervals by others. The natives who had been lounging round the doorway and in the street promptly fled. I imagined that the ships had returned and opened fire, but to my anxious query the answer, given with a pitying smile, was: “Oh no! It is only the military exploding your shells which failed to burst yesterday!”

At length, about 4.30 p.m., a little dark officer arrived, accompanied by a so-called “interpreter,” whose knowledge of English was extremely elementary. He was a dirty little man, with two or three days’ growth of stubble on his chin. He said to me:

“This officer commander. He say you go with him now, and he give you good supper, and good room to sleep.”

The officer then dismissed my armed guard, offered me a mauve silk tipped cigarette, and motioned me to enter a double ricksha which was in waiting. He then got in himself, and we started down the road. In a few minutes the ricksha stopped opposite a large barrack-like building. We dismounted, and entered through a gateway guarded by native soldiers. I had thought, from what the interpreter told me, that I was to be taken to a private house for the night, but now it struck me that perhaps this was the military barracks, and I should be accommodated in the Officers’ Mess.

I was speedily undeceived!... Crossing a courtyard in which several native soldiers were standing, we entered an echoing stone-flagged corridor with small but solid doors on either side. Here we were met by a WARDER! ... unmistakably ... a Warder! ... armed with a revolver, and having a heavy bunch of keys at his belt. I was ushered through one of the doors into a cell. An English-speaking German—a prisoner—was brought to interpret. He said:

“The Commander apologises that he cannot offer you better accommodation. This is the prison, but you must not consider yourself a prisoner. It will be necessary to lock you in to-night; that is not because we think you want to escape, but because there are other English prisoners and you might let them out. The Commander is sorry it is necessary to take this precaution.”

I answered that I understood, but that I would like to see the other English officers, and that I would like something to eat.

Having translated, he said: “Your supper will be brought to you presently. The Commander is sorry he cannot allow you to see the other English officers to-night. Is there anything else he can do for you?”

“Thank him, please, and tell him that I do not think there is anything more he can do for me.”

I felt grimly that he had done little enough, but at least he was civil, and I supposed that that was something to be thankful for! He now bowed, and they all withdrew, but, presumably with the intention of keeping up the fiction that I was not a prisoner, they left the door open.

I now had leisure to examine my cell. It was big and roomy, about twelve feet by eighteen feet, and fairly lofty. Opposite the door was a large unglazed window covered with mosquito-netting, and guarded by iron bars. In the centre stood an iron bedstead with a straw mattress and pillows, and two sheets; it also was fitted with mosquito-curtains. The rest of the furniture consisted of a table, a chair, a camp washstand, and a mirror. The latter was screwed to the wall, on which also hung a printed card of rules and regulations to be observed by the prisoners. As this was in German I could not read it. The window gave upon a small gravelled courtyard bounded by a high brick wall, above which I could just see the trees of the free outer world.

There were several mosquitoes dancing up and down on the blind, and recognising among them the fever-bearing Anopheles, I made haste to lower the curtains round my bed in preparation for the night. Then I sat down on the hard-bottomed chair and spread out my few possessions on the table before me. They comprised the toothbrush and the tin of “Three Castles” cigarettes given me by the captain of the _Tabora_, a small note-book and indelible pencil, two briar pipes and a large pouch full of navy tobacco, and a box half-full of matches. These, with the clothes I was wearing, formed the sum of my worldly wealth. Not much, it is true, but later I found that the others were even less well equipped. They had been searched, and deprived of the few things they had on them, including in one instance a silver cigarette-case. Some months later there was an enquiry about this, but the missing articles were never recovered. We were informed that they must have been taken by one of the Askaris, as “no German would steal.”

While I was thus employed, I noticed some of the prisoners taking exercise up and down the corridor; among them I recognised S——. As he passed the door he made a grimace at me, as though to say: “What do you think of this?” I waved back to him. We did not know if we were allowed to speak, so did not risk it.

Presently my supper was brought in by the young German who had acted as interpreter. I discovered that he was a bank-clerk undergoing a term of imprisonment for embezzlement.

The supper consisted of a most unappetising mess of fat pork, and potatoes fried in fat, the whole being served up in a tin pannikin with a metal spoon to eat it with. There was also a mug of black coffee and a lump of _schwarzbrod_. Hungry though I was, I could not tackle the greasy mess of meat and potatoes, so made my supper off the bread and coffee.

Here, in the tropics, the sun sets between six and half-past all the year round, and I was smoking a contemplative pipe by the light of a small paraffin lamp when a warder entered, wished me a curt “_Gute nacht_,” and snatching up my lamp, went out, slamming and bolting the door behind him. What did he care if the _Engländer_ was so ignorant as not to know the hour that indicated “Lights out”?

I had to undress and get to bed as best I could in the dark. As I had no sleeping garments I wrapped myself up in one of the sheets, and having carefully tucked in the mosquito-curtains, settled down for the night. I slept fairly well, but at intervals I was dimly conscious that someone came and slipped back the grille in the door to have a look at me.

At daybreak I was awakened by the warder, who opened the door with a great rattle of bolts and keys. He said something to me in German, but I did not understand, and as I was still feeling very drowsy, I merely rolled over in bed and listened lazily to his progress down the corridor, punctuated by the noise of the unbolting of other doors. By and bye, on his return journey, he glanced into my cell and discovered me still in bed. In he strode with a mighty bluster, shouting: “_Aus! Aus! Stehen sie auf._” I gave him to understand that I was just about to get up, so he left me. Slipping out of bed, I looked out into the corridor. There I saw T——, who told me we were allowed to have a bath, so I picked up the small towel provided and followed him to the bathroom.

In this room, which had a cemented floor, a bath with a spray was fitted. We were allowed to talk, but not to close the door, and we commiserated with each other while we washed.

By the time I was dressed one of the German prisoners brought in my breakfast of black coffee, blood-sausage and black bread. After breakfast the other English officers were brought to my cell and we were all locked in together. When we asked the reason for this, we were informed that our men were just going to be brought down from an upper storey, and we must be locked in until they had been escorted to the station. I wonder if the Germans thought that we should incite them to make trouble?

Now at last I had an opportunity of hearing the adventures of the others. They told me that they had been left on board the _Koenig_ with orders to complete the destruction of her engines. When the firing started they were still below in the engine-room. They all rushed up on deck, but for a long time could see no sign of the steamboat. At last they spotted her, but she was already a long way down the creek and steaming away from them. They shouted and waved, but could not succeed in attracting her attention. After she had disappeared they remained hidden on deck, hoping that when night fell they would have an opportunity of escaping. However, just before dark they realised that a force of German and black troops had mustered on the bank and were deliberating on the best method of attack. They quickly took counsel together, and decided that as they had no rifles, and not even a revolver apiece, it was futile to offer any resistance.

Therefore when the Germans appeared on deck they had to surrender with the best grace they could, and without firing a shot. It was a bitter business.... Thereafter they were marched through ranks of threatening and shouting Askaris to the local gaol: so they had had one night more in prison than I. They told me that they were as surprised to see me brought in on Sunday as I had been to hear of their capture.

By the time they had finished their recital the door was opened once more to admit a native barber, who asked if we would like a shave. We all had two days’ growth of beard, and were feeling dirty and uncomfortable in consequence, so we were only too pleased to avail ourselves of this opportunity—more especially as it was at the expense of the German Government. Indeed, had it been otherwise, we should have had to forego that luxury, for none of us had any money.

While we were being shaved, one of the German prisoners came in and chatted with us. He was a good-looking, well-set-up, bearded young fellow, and he told us he was a planter, and was undergoing nine months’ imprisonment for beating natives. It appeared that in German East Africa they have a system of importing native labour from distant parts of the Colony to work on plantations where the local labour obtainable is insufficient. Various contractors, mainly of Greek and Italian nationality, undertake to supply native labour. The hirer has to pay a certain sum down for each man hired; this is to cover the cost of collecting and delivering him. Well, some of the imported labourers on this young German’s estate ran away, and he, knowing that if he applied to the Government it would be a long time before the men were returned, determined to take the law into his own hands. So he followed the runaways, caught some of them, and brought them back. Then, as the law in German East Africa allows, he beat them. But unfortunately the punishment he meted out to one of them was so severe that the wretched man died.