It was a cool October night when we were chased off the bridge, and the only warm place on deck would be near the funnel. Nearing the funnel we heard talking and the language was German, so we joined the group to find 5 more stowaways. The night we spent on the grating near the funnel, and towards morning I saw land on the starboard side of the ship. From my knowledge of geography I reasoned that this must be England, and England it was, and we were sooner there than we wished. During the forenoon we noticed the hoisting of some signal flags, then we saw a sailboat coming toward us. We were lined against the rail and put on board the small sailboat and soon landed on solid soil again, then we were marched into town. We were dirty from the coal dust not only our faces, but body and clothes as well, besides being hungry and thirsty. We were an attraction when we were marched into town.
At last we stopped before a building with a large sign above the door, it read POLICE STATION. I had an intense dislike for police stations, and the first house I was to enter in this land was another police station. Was this a bad omen?
In Germany, Handwerksbursche (traveling Journeymen) could not travel from one place to another without having papers of identification, such as Arbeits buch (record of work book), social security card and certificate of vaccination, etc. The conversation in the police station was one sided. When they found papers on us they started to ask questions. I knew the meaning of yes and no in the English language, and now I know what a Police Station is.
When my turn came I answered sometime yes and sometime no. When they had my certificate of vaccination, they said to me 'passport', and I answered yes. After a short conversation they handed me back my papers and said get out. Having said 'yes' before, I said this time 'no'. The next thing was that I was grabbed by the cop on seat and neck and before I could open my mouth I was out on the Street, now I know what 'get out' means.
I was the only English spokesman who was bodily removed, all others walked out unassisted. But where are we? What is the name of this town? A man who had been watching us introduced himself as a German. He informed us that we were in Dover. To our question where we could buy some food, he said that his brother-in-law had a butcher store a few blocks away and he gave us directions. I had about 35 Mark in my possession. It was decided that only one of us was to go to the store, because of our dirty faces. No one cared to be the purchaser, so I being the most hungry offered to go to the store, but they must keep out of sight.
The butcher was surprised when I addressed him in German. I told him that I had met his brother-in-law, and that I had wanted to go to America by stowing away on a British steamer, which dumped me at Dover. He was very sympathetic, told his wife to heat some water so that I could wash. The sight of bread and bologna made me more hungry than I was but he kept asking me about Germany. When I turned to look at the store window, I almost fainted, there stood six dirty faces looking in. My motion to them to keep away was ignored. When the butcher saw them he shouted to his wife not to heat the water and demanded an explanation. I told him that 5 of them were strangers, and only one was my friend; I came to buy some food, as we had not eaten since Bremerhaven, and the America was our destination and not England. He then filled a paper bag with bread bologna and hambones and when I offered to pay he said 'no charge and my God be with you'. The first thing was to get out of town, we wanted to eat. We found a brook and after eating we wanted to wash, but I had forgotten to ask the butcher for soap. Soon they started to argue, and my friend and I said goodbye to them, never to see them again. Walking along the street, we saw a milestone which said 'Dover one mile, London 71'. Many roads lead to Rome, and this one to London. On to London.
The next town was Canterbury, we saw the Cathedral, but knew nothing of her fame. If only we had a piece of soap, and we did not know the English name for it. We spent the night in some shed and we had to have something to eat again. In a bakery I saw some bread, I pointed to a large loaf, and when it was handed to me, I gave her a Mark. She said the Mark was no good and no bread for me. This happened a few times, and the more bread I saw the more hungry I got. In the next store I pointed to the largest loaf that I saw, and when she handed it to me I quickly took a big bite before I handed her the Mark. She said the Mark was no good, and she did not want the bread either. There was no other way that I knew of.
From Canterbury to Sittingborn and Rochester. In Rochester I saw a piece of soap in a show window, and one of my Marks bought it. The next thing was to find water, so that we could wash. Our handkerchief was our combination towel and wash rag. We had our face, the upper part of our body, and shirt washed. We could not wait until our shirt was dry, so we let the body do it. The first time that we had a clean face since Bremerhaven. We left Rochester behind and were on our way to Gravesend, and from there to Greenwich. In Greenwich we rested below the Observatory walls before we entered the worlds largest city: London.
We planned to go to the German Consul first, to get some information. We asked a policeman for the German Consul. After he understood our request, he consulted his little book and said 'Picadilly Circus'. We did not understand, we wanted the consul and not the circus. Let's try another, again the answer was Picadilly Circus.
We found Picadilly Circus after a few days, it was a round Park with a tall iron fence, and fancy residences. One of those houses had a sign above the door, it said Kaiserlich Deutsches General Consulat (German Imperial General Consulate). While we walked up the stone steps, the door opened and about a dozen men tumbled down laughing, followed by a policeman. When I asked the reason for the disturbance, I was told that Neff was not feeling good today.
Neff was the secretary to the consul and when he felt good he gave his destitute countrymen 2 shilling, and when he didn't he called the police to have them thrown out.
We decided not to consult the consul for the present, but followed our countrymen to their place of lodging, which was important to us too. A sign in a window read 'Money exchange Geldwechsler', we exchanged our Marks for Shillings and were given 10 pence for a Mark.
The habitation of our countrymen was in the Whitechapel and Limehouse districts of London east.
Lodging houses were far different from the German Herberge. Here you can do your own cooking. They have tea and coffee pots, cups and frying pans, etc. You could also have a little closet of about a cubic foot by paying a deposit for the key, deposit returned upon return of key.
We still had our clothes full of coal dust, and here was an opportunity to wash our pants. It had to be done at night, it was not easy to wash your pants, if you have nothing to replace them.
Beds in those lodging houses rented for 4 pence for single beds and 6 pence for double beds. My pal and I shared a double bed in spite of the fact that I swore never never to sleep with another since I had the Kraze in Kiel. We learned to make toast, and had coffee and sometimes eggs and bacon. Life was rosy again.
We were told that chances to get to America were no good from London. The main and better port would be Liverpool. So we decided to go to Liverpool while we still had a few shilling. London is an ocean of houses, and difficult to find the way out. We were at Hyde Park, near the Prince Albert monument when we asked a policeman where we could find the road to Liverpool. He looked in his little book, then asked if we intended to walk; we did not understand so he made motions with his feet; when we nodded that we understood, he said something like 250 miles, put his finger to his forehead and said "Crazy crazy".
It was a long walk before we reached the open country, and the first milestone told us that we were on the road to Oxford. From Oxford to Birmingham. It was late in October, the weather not too cold and the countryside beautiful.
We spent a few nights in a British work house. A work house is like a German Verpflegungs station (lodging and feeding station). Here the British tramp, and there were many given shelter for the night, and a tin of cold oatmeal for breakfast, then he has to do manual labor, and using the same tact as the German philanthropists, discharge them an hour before dinner, and save a meal. Sometime we found an apple or pear tree with some fruit still in the grass, we would fill our pockets and stomach.
In lodging houses we often learned of the hospitality of the poor, they invited us to a cup of tea or a slice of toast, while themselves had first to beg for it. From Birmingham on to Manchester. In a lodging house in Manchester we were told that we were only 36 miles from Liverpool. We planned to leave early in the morning to be in Liverpool by night. About noon we were in Warrington 18 miles from Liverpool. I had a surprise that day, the road made a turn and in the field about a mile distant I saw an Ocean liner and no water. I did not know of the Manchester ship canal.
Dog tired we reached Liverpool that evening, and took lodging on London road. Hungry as a Bear we planned a good supper. We bought liver and suet and a large loaf of bread, and we wanted fried onions with our liver. My friend said go and buy some onions and I have tea and toast ready when you come back.. The store keeper did not know what I meant when I asked for Zwiebel, and I did not know that a Zwiebel was an 'Onion'. I walked from store to store looking for onions but did not see any. At last I saw some pickled onions in a jar. I went into the store and pointed at the onions, but the lady put her hand on everything but the onions. Finally she pointed at the onions and I nodded my head. "Oh", she said, "Onions", but I did not want them, I wanted large ones she did not have, but showed me a place that did have some.
Now I have my onions, but where in h--l is my lodging house? I had lost all directions, I would recognize the house if I see it again. At last I stood before it with my onions, but my partner had tired of waiting and had eaten the liver, and now there was nothing for me but tea and bread, nothing in the world could get me out again that night. But anyway we are in Liverpool, and there is only the Atlantic Ocean between Liverpool and America.
continue reading: Grandpa in Liverpool, England.