From where I used to sit on deck outside my quarters I could see the other prisoners aft on the poop, at that time some two hundred of them. Over half of them had no shoes, socks or overshirts, and fully one-fifth of them wore no undershirt. I asked a couple of them why they did not wear a shirt in that blazing tropical sun. They told me that they had only one shirt apiece and that the sweat rotted them so fast, that they were going without shirts at present and saving them till the weather got cold. Three times a day each squad flunkey (a squad consisted of fourteen prisoners) would troop up to the galley amidships and get their rations for the meal--a kettle of alleged tea or coffee, black bread, and at noon a kettle of goulash, resembling a soft stew. I had been on board the _Wolf_ for some time before I finally got the chance to sneak down below aft and see what the prisoners' quarters were like and have a talk with some of the men. The prisoners' quarters on the _Wolf_ were located aft in the cargo hold, and had their only entrance under the poop, on the main deck. The quarters themselves were reached by means of a narrow ladder only, and this ladder was built in such a manner that not more than two persons could pass up or down at the same time, or one person up and one down simultaneously, thereby guarding against a concerted rush in event of an escape being planned. Over the entrance or hole in the deck leading to these stairs was slung a heavy iron hatch or cover, in such a manner that it could be dropped into place instantaneously by one of the guards. This hatch would effectually close the only exit from the quarters where there were over two hundred prisoners confined. Also the closing of this hatch would cut off nearly one-half the air supply; during the times when this hatch was closed, when the _Wolf_ was passing through some danger, the suffering in the hold from lack of air was often intense. Even under normal conditions the air supply was inadequate. It was probably 8:30 P.M. when I was there, and I would judge the temperature to have been between 118 and 120 degrees Fahrenheit, and the reek of feet, breath and bodies was something awful. On this particular night, I should judge from one-quarter to three-eighths of an inch of sweat was on the floor, and when the vessel rolled there would be a thin scum of liquid running from side to side. The walls and ceiling were literally running water, which was caused by moisture drawn from the bodies of the men by the hot iron sides of the ship and the deck overhead. Combine stale tobacco smoke with this atmosphere, and it was a wonder to me that a human being could exist in it.