Las Palmas.  I made a vigorous, though I knew it would be quite a useless, protest against this scheme.  I pointed out that the ship, which by then would be almost empty, was not a suitable one in which to carry women and children into the North Atlantic in mid-winter gales, and that people who had spent many years in the tropics would not be able to stand such weather, unprovided as they were with winter clothing (although the Commander of the Wolf had certainly sent over some rolls of flannelette—­stolen from the Hitachi—­for the ladies to make themselves warm garments!).  Also that in case of distress we could call for no help, as our wireless would only receive and not send messages.  The Captain brushed these complaints aside, saying the ship was in good trim and could stand any weather, that it would only be intensely cold on a very few days, that arrangements would be made that we should suffer as little from the cold as possible, and that there was very little likelihood of our being in distress.

I then pointed out to him that our own Government prohibited our women from travelling through the submarine zone at all, but that he proposed to send them through it twice and to give us a double dose of the North Atlantic at the very worst time of the year.  He replied that going north we should go nowhere near the submarine zone, that he was just as anxious to avoid submarines as we were, and that when we parted far up in the North Atlantic, the Igotz Mendi would be given a “submarine pass,” guaranteeing her safety from attack by the U boats, and special lights to burn at nights.  I replied that I failed to see the use of a “submarine pass,” as U boats torpedoed at sight, and would not trouble to ask for a pass.  He replied by asking me if I had ever heard of a neutral boat being torpedoed without warning.  I answered that I had heard of such being done many times, and reminded him that the Igotz Mendi was painted the Allied grey colour and therefore would not be recognized as a neutral, but regarded by the U boats as an enemy ship.  The Captain became very angry—­the only time he ever lost his temper with me—­and ended the interview by saying that he was carrying out the orders of the Wolf’s Commander, and had no choice but to obey.  This was undoubtedly true, and though Lieutenant Rose told us many lies concerning our destination, we always felt he was acting in accordance with instructions from his senior officer in so doing.  We all recognized that we were lucky in that he, and not the Commander of the Wolf or any other officer of the Imperial Navy, was in charge of us.  He admitted, however, that it was particularly hard luck on my wife and myself being captured like this, just as we had retired from a long period of work and residence in the Far East.  This news of the Wolf’s intentions angered us all, and we all felt that there was very little chance of ever seeing land again, unless an Allied cruiser came to our aid.  We regarded this plan of the Germans as a deliberate one to sink us and the ship when they had got all they wanted out of her, and I told the Captain that my wife and I would prefer to be shot that day rather than face such a prospect of absolute misery, with every chance of death alone putting an end to it.