It was evident from this that the Germans intended sinking the ship if we came across a British or Allied war vessel.  We were of course unarmed, as the Germans had removed the Hitachi gun to the Wolf, but the German Captain anticipated no difficulty on this score, and assured me that it was the intention of the Commander of the Wolf that we should be landed in a short time with all our baggage at a neutral port with a stone pier.  We took this to mean a port in either Sumatra or Java, and we were buoyed up with this hope for quite a considerable time.  But, alas, like many more of the assurances given to us, it was quite untrue.

There were now on board 131 souls, of whom twenty-nine were passengers.  On Saturday, October 6th, the seaplane returned in the afternoon and remained about half an hour, when she again flew away.  She brought a message of evidently great importance, for whereas it had been the intention of our Captain to sail away on the following afternoon, he weighed anchor the next morning and left the atoll.  He had considerable trouble with the anchor before starting, and did not get away till nearly eight o’clock, instead of at daybreak.  Evidently something was coming to visit the atoll; though it was certain nothing could be looking for us, as our capture could not then have been known, and there could have been no communication between the Maldives and Ceylon, or the mainland.  Before and for some days after we sailed, the ship was cleaned and put in order, the cargo properly stowed, and the bunkers trimmed by the German crew, aided by some neutrals who had been taken prisoner from other ships.  Some of the sailors among the prize crew were good enough to give us some pieces of the Wolf’s shrapnel found on the Hitachi, relics which were eagerly sought after by the passengers.

The passengers were now under armed guards, but were at perfect liberty to do as they pleased, and the relations between them and the German officers and crew were quite friendly.  Deck games were indulged in as before our capture, and the German Captain took part in them.  Time, nevertheless, hung very heavily on our hands, but many a pleasant hour was spent in the saloon with music and singing.  One of the Australian prisoners was a very good singer and pianist, and provided very enjoyable entertainment for us.  The Captain, knowing that I had some songs with me, one afternoon asked me to sing.  I was not feeling like singing, so I declined.  “Shot at dawn!” he said.  “Ready now,” I replied.  “No!” said he.  “I can’t oblige you now.  Either at dawn, for disobedience to Captain’s orders, or not at all.”  So it was made the latter!  On Sunday evenings, after the six o’clock “supper,” a small party met in the saloon to sing a few favourite hymns, each one choosing the ones he or she liked best.  This little gathering was looked forward to by those who took part in it, as it formed a welcome break in the ordinary monotonous life on board.