Nothing mattered any longer. I pulled out my knife, and at one blow ripped open the boat-cover from end to end; but this time on the deck side. With a deep breath, I stood in the middle of the boat-deck, and expected to be made a prisoner at any moment. But no one bothered about me. The crew was occupied with landing manœuvres; the travellers with their luggage. I now descended to the promenade-deck, where several passengers eyed me with indignation on account of my unkempt appearance and my torn blue stockings, which looked, I must say, anything but dainty. But my eyes must have been so radiantly happy, and such joy depicted on my dirty, emaciated features that many a woman glanced at me with surprise. I could no longer go about like this. I therefore repaired to the fore-deck, fetched my boots (my best hockey boots, kindly gifts from the English), and, though a Dutch sailor blew me up gruffly, I calmly put on my beloved boots, and wandered off to the gangway. The steamer had made fast directly to the pier. The passengers left the ship, bidding farewell to the Captain and the ship’s officers. At first I had intended to make myself known to the Captain, in order to avoid any trouble to the Dutch Steamship Company. But more prudent counsels prevailed, and with my hands in my pockets, looking as unobtrusive as I could, I slunk down the gangway. Nobody paid any attention to me, so I pretended to belong to the ship’s crew, and even helped to fasten the hawsers. Then I mixed with the crowd, and whilst the passengers were being subjected to a strict control I looked round, and near the railings discovered a door, on which stood in large letters “Exit Forbidden.” There, surely, lay the way to Freedom! In the twinkling of an eye I negotiated this childishly easy obstacle, and stood without. I was free! I had to make the greatest effort of my life to keep myself from jumping about like a madman. Two countrymen of mine gave me a cordial welcome, though they would not believe that I was an officer, and, above all things, that I had achieved my escape from England. How horrible the water in my bath looked! I also ate enough for three that night. After I had bought a few small necessaries on the next day, I boarded a slow train for Germany, wearing workman’s clothes. As the train was going to start, a man came up behind me and tapped me on the shoulder (how I did hate this manner of greeting!) and asked me, “Where are your papers?” “Who are you, anyway?” I said. “I am Secret Service.” “Anybody can say that.” “Of course, sir; but here’s my badge.” For a moment I felt dizzy. I explained to this gentleman with great suavity that I possessed no papers, that I was on my way back to Germany, and that I should give no trouble to the Dutch Government. “So,” he remarked, “you come from England, and you have no papers? I suppose that was a bit difficult?” “Yes. Rather!” I said. “Well, I wish you a further pleasant journey.”