Never was there a more dramatic turning of the tables; the Germans were now interned and we were free.  The German officers were sent off under guard to an inland town, and the sailors sent to a camp in another part of Denmark.  The sailors did not attempt to disguise their joy at the turn events had taken.  On their return to Germany they would have had a few weeks’ leave and then done duty in a submarine or at the front.  Now, they were interned in a land where there was at least much more to eat than they could have hoped for in Germany, and their dangers were at an end till the war was over.  They were marched under an armed guard of Danes up and down the village street several times on one of these days; they were all smiles, singing as they marched along.

The next day a hurricane was still blowing, and going aboard was still out of the question.  The ship was blown farther in shore, and it began to look as if she would break up and we should see nothing of our personal belongings.  The day after, however, was beautifully fine, and we left Skagen harbour in two motor barges, almost touching a floating mine on the way.  It took more than an hour to get from the harbour to the ship, for we had to take a very circuitous route owing to the shallow water and many sandbanks.  It was a bitterly cold trip, but at last we reached and with great difficulty—­as no gangway was down and we had to climb a ladder projecting a few feet out from the ship’s side—­boarded the ship, which was in charge of the Danish authorities.  After some difficulty, for the ship was in a state of great chaos, we secured from various parts of the ship all our baggage, which was landed that night at Skagen, much to our relief, as up to that time we had only what we stood up in at the time we landed from the lifeboat.  So that, after all, we lost very little of our baggage, a most unexpected stroke of good luck.  Some of us returned to the shore, only a short distance away, in the salvage tug’s lifeboat, as we did not relish the long return trip in the motor barges, crammed as they would be with baggage.  From there we walked to our hotel.  The baggage was taken to the Custom House, and next day put on the train, so we were unable to open it till we arrived in Copenhagen, by which time we stood badly in need of it.

We had set foot on the Igotz Mendi for the last time.  She had been our “home” for more than three months—­never shall we forget her.  I can picture every detail of her as I write, the tiny cabins, the miserable tiled floor saloon, and the wretched meals taken therein, the dirty condition of the whole ship, the iron decks—­none of it will ever be forgotten by any one of her unwilling passengers.