[Frontispiece: Count Felix Von Luckner, the most romantic and mysterious figure of the World War, with powerful hands tears a telephone book into four parts.] COUNT LUCKNER, THE SEA DEVIL By LOWELL THOMAS _ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS_ GARDEN CITY PUBLISHING COMPANY, INC, GARDEN CITY, NEW YORK COPYRIGHT, 1927, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES AT THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. Y. CONTENTS I. We Meet a Flying Buccaneer II. Felix Runs off to Sea III. Saved by an Albatross IV. Salvation, Kangaroos, and Fakirs in Australia V. Wrestling Champion of Sankt Pauli VI. The Tragic Cruise of the "Cæsarea" VII. The Beach Comber's Adventure with the "_Panther_" VIII. Pitfalls for the Sailor, and the Canary That Spoke Low Deutsch IX. The Runaway Comes Home X. From Pig-Sty Cleaner to Kaiser's Protégé XI. In the Cameroons and the Fairy of Fuerteventura XII. Fake Norwegians for a Pirate Cruise XIII. Running the British Blockade in a Hurricane XIV. We Capture the "Gladys Royal" and the "Lundy Island" XV. Raiding Along the Equator, and an Interrupted Honeymoon XVI. Windjammer vs. Steamer XVII. The Last Cruise of the Poor Old "Pinmore" XVIII. The Life of a Modern Buccaneer XIX. How We Made Our Prisoners Walk the Plank XX. The Battle of the Falkland Islands XXI. Racing the Enemy Around Cape Horn XXII. Raiding the Pacific XXIII. Shipwrecked in Southern Seas XXIV. Castaways on a Coral Atoll XXV. Let's Go Raiding Again! XXVI. From the Society Islands to the Cook Islands in an Open Boat XXVII. Through a Sea of Floating Brimstone to Fiji XXVIII. Caught by the British at Wakaya XXIX. Jailed in Fiji While the Others Escape to Easter Island XXX. The Escape from New Zealand to the Smoking Isle COUNT LUCKNER, THE SEA DEVIL COUNT LUCKNER THE SEA DEVIL I WE MEET A FLYING BUCCANEER It was on a flying field in Central Europe that I first saw the "Sea Devil." We were on our way from London to Moscow by air, and had come as far as Stuttgart with stops at Paris and Basle. While waiting for the mechanics to tune up the big Fokker monoplane in which we were to cover the next stage to Berlin, we lunched in the little tea room on the edge of the flying field, kept by the widow of a German pilot killed in the war. Suddenly, through an open window, from off to the east in the direction of Munich and Ulm, we heard a familiar drone, and a moment later a silvery monoplane darted from a billowy cloud bank, the rays of the afternoon sun glistening now from one wing and now from the other. In a series of sliding swoops, with motor off and noiseless except for the whistle of the propeller, it dropped gently on to the turf and sped across the field.