Off the 'Roter Sand' lighthouse, which so often in thick weather had given us guidance--not seldom at the very last moment--the first metamorphosis took place. The secret hatchway was opened and a couple of large boxes brought up, the contents of which we proceeded to spread out on deck. These consisted of complete outfits of clothing for the crew; Norwegian uniforms, _i.e._ plain blue suits, caps, sweaters, linen, etc., all genuine down to the smallest detail. Even the black buttons were stamped with the name of a Norwegian firm! In a few minutes the dressing-up was complete, and the result was not without its comic side, for, while some of us looked very like Scandinavians, others looked like nothing on earth, for of course not all the garments were adapted to the size of the wearers. One of the stokers, a tall Bavarian, asked indignantly why the stokers did not get fine big knives like the seamen. When I explained to him that these were only for work, and that later on all would have proper daggers and pistols, he was visibly reassured. One consequence of this metamorphosis was that henceforward all military smartness of bearing and movement had to be dropped, for in order to be able to play our parts properly we must gradually accustom ourselves to tramp-ship ways. I had supposed that this would come easy to the men, but that was not the case; and I must say that, desirable as it was under present circumstances, I could not help being pleased to see how extraordinarily difficult it was to get rid of the military polish. I was sorry my former chief was not there to observe it. However, they learned in time to drop the heel-clicking, call me Cap'n, instead of 'Herr Leutnant,' talk a low German lingo that might pass, at a pinch, for Norwegian, and let their beards grow. We signalled good-bye to a group of outpost boats on their way in, and once more entered the Elbe. In the night we passed through the Kiel Canal. Next morning saw us off the Bulk lightship, and a little later we steamed, in glorious spring weather, through the Fehmarn Sound. A few hours later we were in Lübeck. In calling on the firm of shipping agents which had been entrusted with the loading and outfitting of the _Libau_, I decided to assume my rôle of merchant captain, but the first attempt was something of a fiasco. Clad in the go-ashore kit proper to my status, I entered the private office of the firm, only to be greeted with a respectful 'Good morning, Commander'--a nasty jolt! I stuck to it, however, and the interview passed through various stages of incredulity, indignation at my avoidance of military service, and irritation at my boorish manners. In the end, however, we understood each other excellently, and I here record with gratitude the valuable aid I received from the firm and their confidential employees in the fitting out of the _Libau_.