We often passed and nodded after that, but we never spoke to each other again.
I began however to surmise, that, kind and hospitable as my friends were, they would at heart be relieved if I left them. My repeated ventures and the ominous threats that came from time to time about harbouring an enemy and such like made them hint at the possibility of a way being found to get me across the Channel to my own country. I, too, had quite made up my mind to get away if possible. The everlasting harangues at every meal against the English nation were beginning to affect me seriously, and my patience reached its summit of endurance when I was informed that the English fleet through cowardice had sheltered itself in the Irish Sea. I remember saying on this occasion:
“I have listened to all the other epithets you have heaped upon my nation with as much patience as I can command, but cowards you _shall_ not call them in my presence. Look at your own navy, where is it? Why, shut up in your canal and harbours, frightened even to venture into the waters of the Baltic.”
Although difficulties confronted me on every side, I watched desperately for an opportunity, and soon I heard of a young Anglo-German lady, who wanted to try to reach London, would I accompany her? Of course I would! I must get a passport from the American Consul at Hamburg, and this must be done in person.
The Pastor, somewhat reluctantly consented to this attempt and kindly promised to lend me enough German money; also to drive me to a station at some distance where there was a better connection with the main line.
So early one September morning, after a six weeks’ stay in the little town by the Baltic, I drove through the keen air for over two hours in an open carriage and caught the train on the direct line to Hamburg.
It surprised me much to find scarcely any travellers the whole way to Lübeck, and I can only remember two gentlemen, who, of course, were talking of the war, one telling the other how his eldest son, a boy of fifteen, had begged him to alter his age by two years so that he might go to the front.
At Lübeck all was as dead--the restaurant and catering arrangements, formerly so excellent, had ceased to exist, and only with difficulty could I obtain some lunch. I had three hours to wait, which I spent in nervously walking about the roads near the station, and looking at the disgraceful postcards and pictures concerning English and French; and others showing the bravery and prowess of the Kaiser. One I noticed especially; a huge poster displaying the Kaiser gallantly marching to fight with three sons on each side of him, while our King George sat at Windsor Castle drinking tea and sending messages of encouragement to his men for risking their lives for him; and the Czar shut up in a glass case afraid his own subjects would kill him.
This obnoxious caricature made my blood boil, and I longed to smash the shop window in which it was exhibited.
The journey between Lübeck and Hamburg, though tedious was uneventful. At Hamburg a mountain of difficulties arose. The lady who was to travel with me met me, according to arrangements, at the station. English by birth and education, she possessed a German name from her father, who had been naturalized in England. She with her mother had come to Germany in July to visit her father’s relations, and now she wished to return to their home in London, but owing to the war and the discomforts connected with travelling, the aged mother was to remain in Hamburg.
The daughter had been told that morning at the American Consulate that our passports would not be sufficient to get us across the Dutch frontier, or rather to allow us to leave Germany; that permission from the police authorities must be obtained. She had then repaired to the chief police station, but the permit had been refused as the negotiations between England and Germany, about granting their respective people permission to leave, were not completed. She had also been told that it was possible in the near future, if the rancour on each side continued, that every British subject, old and young, would be ejected from Germany--in which case her mother would have to travel alone to London. I did not think this latter law would ever be enacted, but I surmised that she wavered about leaving.
As the idea of travelling alone, or still worse of being obliged to remain in Germany--perhaps to return to Neustadt--now confronted me, my heart sank within me.
We repaired together to the Consulate to obtain my passport.
I was half dead and faint for the Englishwoman’s greatest comfort--a cup of tea, but there was no time for this luxury, as the Consulate closes on Saturday at 5 o’clock and it was now past 4.
Shall I ever forget the chaos at the Consulate? All kinds of peoples and nations were collected there, and women typists ticked their machines in the midst of the ceaseless jargon of tongues.
Of course we had to wait, and there were no chairs, while, as no windows were open, the heat was suffocating.
When at last we did get a hearing, we were told that there was no hurry about my passport, as I could not leave Germany without police permission, which at present could not be granted.
But I, eager to grasp at any straw, had been listening to some men in another room, and had heard that several women were being smuggled through, therefore I pressed for the filling in of my papers, which, after tedious waiting, and long after the usual hour of closing, was completed.
I took a room in the hotel “zum Kron Prinzen” opposite the station, and then accompanied my new friend to her relations. One glance at the beautiful old face of the mother convinced me that if I were her daughter I would not leave her. She sat like a marble statue, saying nothing, determined not to persuade. Every possible chance and difficulty was discussed, and at the daughter’s urgent request our Sunday travelling was postponed until the Monday.
“Give me a day to think it over,” she whispered to me, looking anxiously at the white face and thinly pressed lips of her mother.
Then I returned to the hotel and went to bed but not to sleep. (At that hotel the things were good, the charges moderate, and the kindness and attention which I received I shall always remember with gratitude).
I was almost the only person besides the staff in the house and the lonely corridors were silent and desolate.
With fresh apprehension I discovered that I had caught cold during that long morning drive, my chest felt sore and breathing was painful. I wondered what would happen if I were taken ill. Most likely I should be put in some German hospital where no one would know anything about me. But, after drinking a hot lemonade and rubbing my chest with camphorated oil, I fell asleep towards the early morning.
About 7.30 I heard a tap at my door and in a startled fright I jumped out of bed and rushed across the room to find my proposed travelling companion standing outside the door. She had come to say that she could not leave her mother, and came thus early to give me an opportunity of going by the Sunday express as had been at first arranged.
We talked a long time together, and I tried to comfort her and impress upon her that she was acting quite rightly. But all the same I was inwardly filled with dismay at the prospect of the long lonely journey.
She endeavoured to persuade me to remain in Germany until the permission was given to quit the country, but I could not consent, I had suffered too much. I so far agreed that should any question be asked when I took my ticket to Rotterdam--England was not to be mentioned--I would not go. As no remark was made and I found my luggage could be booked through to Rotterdam, I left on the Monday morning at 9.15.
As far as Bremen the carriage was full of Germans railing against England. I bought a German paper and read it, only speaking when absolutely obliged.
At Osnabrück, where I changed first, the restaurant was closed, and I could get only a cup of over-salted bouillon, which I dared not drink dreading the thirst that would follow.
No porters were available to carry my hand luggage, which was heavy and cumbrous, as I had packed enough in my hat box to enable me to stay a few days on the frontier if detained there. I also had a bulky bag and an umbrella case. To carry all these myself at once was not possible, so I had to take first one and then the other, risking the stealing of the one left. This I had to do at more than one of the many places at which I had to change trains.
Whilst standing disconsolately on the platform at Rheine (one of these stages of the interminable journey), with my packages around me, a voice sounded with a hiss in my ears: “Wann fährt das Schiff” (When does the ship sail?)
“That is no business of mine, I am going to Rotterdam,” and I pointed to the label on my bag.
Shortly afterwards I arrived at Bentheim, the German frontier town. Here a rigorous investigation of all luggage took place, and I, with my heavy belongings, dragged myself wearily into the custom house.