One night, while the ships were lashed alongside, a great uproar arose on both ships.  The alarm was given, orders were shouted, revolvers and side-arms were hastily assumed, and sailors commenced rushing and shouting from all parts of both ships.  Most of us were scared, not knowing what had happened.  It appeared that a German sailor had fallen down between the two ships; his cries, of course, added to the tumult, but luckily he was dragged up without being much injured.  We could not help wondering, if such a commotion were made at such a small accident, what would happen if a cruiser came along and the real alarm were given.  The ship would bid fair to become a veritable madhouse—­evidently the nerves of all the Germans were very much on edge.  The only thing for the prisoners to do was to get out of the way as much as possible, and retire to their cabins.

In addition to the transference of coal and cargo which went on without cessation, day and night, our ship was gradually being stripped.  Bunks and cabin fittings, heating apparatus, pianos, bookcases, brass and rubber stair-treads, bed and table linen, ceiling and table electric fans, clocks, and all movable fittings were transferred to the Wolf, and our ship presented a scene of greater destruction every day.  The Germans were excellent shipbreakers.  Much of the cargo could not be taken on board the Wolf; it was not wanted, and there was no room for it, and some of this, especially some fancy Japanese goods, clothes, gloves, and toys, was broached by the sailors, and some was left untouched in the holds.  The Prize Captain secured for himself as a trophy a large picture placed at the head of the saloon stairs of the Hitachi.  This represented a beautiful Japanese woodland scene, embossed and painted on velvet.  The Germans said the Hitachi was due to arrive at her destination between November 4th and November 8th.  They told us she would still do so, but that the destination would be slightly different—­not Liverpool, but Davy Jones’s locker!  Some of the prisoners aft had seen several ships sunk by the Wolf.  They told us that on more than one such occasion a German officer had gone down among them whistling “Britannia Rules the Waves.”  They will perhaps admit by this time that she does so still, the Wolf notwithstanding!

Longing eyes had been cast on the notice published by the Germans concerning rules and regulations on board, and most of us determined to get possession of it.  When first fixed on the notice-board it had been blown down, and recovered by a German sailor.  It was then framed and again exhibited.  Later on, it was again taken out of its frame and pinned up.  It remained on the notice-board till the day before the Hitachi was sunk.  After supper that evening I was lucky enough to find it still there, so removed it, and have kept it as a memento of the time when I was a “detained enemy subject.”