While we were still lying at the dock we had an amusing experience. Just as the gang-plank was nearly ready to be hauled in, two detectives came on board. I was surprised that they had not appeared before; for it is one of Kaiser Wilhelm's strong points to see that none of his young men, or "dear servants," as he calls them, get out of his domain before they have done their duty in his army. The sailors laughed at them, and told them to go home; meanwhile Ryborg and I were supposedly asleep. That there was method in this drowsiness I cannot deny, for Ryborg had no really current pass, and we were both fearful of being detained. We were finally discovered, and when one of the officers asked me if we were sailors, I rather naturally said, "Yes," being half asleep, and having seen that they had not disturbed the true seamen. The man was determined to see my passport, however, and the long sheet of paper amused him considerably. He called it _ein mächtiges Ding_, and I patriotically told him he was right, and that it was about the "greatest thing" he had ever handled. He failed to see the point, and poked Ryborg. Then I quaked a little, but laughed inwardly too, when Ryborg handed him his student's card; for it did seem odd to find a student of philosophy in that miserable den. The detective thought so too, and claimed that he did not exactly understand the situation. "Are you a sailor, a workman, an American, or what?" said the officer. "Ich bin--ein Studierter" ("I am--a learned one"), gasped Ryborg. That settled the matter. The detectives walked off, and we were left for the following thirty-two hours to our North Sea misery, which was of such a character that, when we landed, we vowed never to go to sea again. Grimsby was uninteresting, so we went straight on to Hull. As this was the point where our vagabondage was properly to begin, I soon had my eye on watch for what American tramps call a "town bum." I found one in a main street, and introduced myself thus: "I say, Jack, can you tell us where the moochers hang out in these parts?" "You're a Yank, ain't you?" said he. This I acknowledged, at the same time asking, "Why?" "Because I know a lot of blokes over in your country, an' I'm thinkin' o' goin' over myself. How d' you think I'd like it?" "Tiptop," I answered; "but you know they're givin' the likes of us ninety days in Chicago now." "O-oh, well, p'r'aps I'll go over later," was his rejoinder; and then he told me where the moochers were to be found. "You see thet corner! Well, just turn thet, an' keep hoofin' along till you come to an alley. Go up to the top, then down on your right to the bottom, an' ask roun' there somewhere for Blanket Row. You'll find all the moochers you want there; but look out for the Robert and the Dee [the policeman and the detective]. They'll give you seven days if they catch you moochin'." [Illustration: A LODGING-HOUSE.]