We had been allowed to send letters for Christmas—­censored, of course, by the Germans—­to our Hitachi friends on the Wolf, and when the two ships were alongside we were allowed to speak to them, though conversation under such conditions was very difficult, as one minute our friends would be several feet above us and the next below us with the rolling of the ships; and the noise of the coaling, shouting of orders, and roaring of the water between the ships was deafening.  There did not seem much point in censoring letters, as the prisoners on the Igotz Mendi and the Wolf were allowed to talk to each other a day or so after the letters were sent, and although a German sentry was on guard while these conversations were going on, it was possible for the prisoners to say what they liked to each other, as the sentry could only have caught an occasional word or two.

I have since been asked why the prisoners and Spaniards on the Spanish ship did not attack the prize crew and seize the ship when we were not in company with the Wolf.  It sounds quite simple, but it must be remembered that although the prize crew was certainly a small one, they were well supplied with arms, bombs, and hand grenades, while the prisoners and Spaniards had no arms at all, as they had all been taken away by the Germans.  Further, an attack of this kind would have been far worse than useless unless its absolute success could have been definitely assured.  There were very few young and able men among the prisoners, while the German prize crew were all picked men, young and powerful.  The working crew of the ship was composed of Spaniards and other neutrals, including a Greek and a Chilian.  It would have been absolutely necessary to have secured the allegiance and support of every one of these.  The plan of seizing the ship, which sounds so simple, was discussed among us many a time, but it was in reality quite impracticable.  What would our fate have been if we had tried—­and failed?  And what of the women and children on board?

CHAPTER VIII

RUMOURS AND PLANS

We had been encouraged by the Germans to think—­they had in fact definitely told us—­that the Igotz Mendi with us on board was to be sent to Spain when the Germans released her.  This news greatly rejoiced the Spaniards, who had naturally become very depressed, more especially as they knew that if no news were received of them for six weeks after the date on which they were due at Colombo a requiem mass would, according to Spanish custom, be said for them at their churches at home.