The Death Ship Read Online Free PDF Page A

ask them for a bottle of that fine stuff they used to prove that they still wore the pants. But really, I thought, what does it matter whether my throat’s dry or not? What difference does it make whether I go to hell with a drink or without one? I had always pictured hangmen as morons, not the sort these two guys were. Anyway, hanging for money and as a profession is a dirty business. I don’t know why people do it when there are so many other jobs in the world just as interesting, as, for instance, being a piano-player during the rehearsals of the Follies, or something like that.
    Never before in my life had I realized how beautiful life really is.
    “Oui, oui, mister. We have to say good-by,” the interpreter said again. “We have no doubt you may be a fine fellow and a good sailor, but right now we have no use for you here in Belgium.”
    For such a simple reason they hang a man in Belgium. What people!
    He raised his arm, apparently to throw the noose over my neck and to strangle me first so as to make me entirely helpless, as I could see that they had not spent any money to erect real gallows. I wasn’t worth the gallows, because I had not committed a murder, and so no newspaper was interested about the way I was executed.
    With his outstretched arm he pointed in a certain direction, and said: “Over there, just where my finger points, there is Holland. The Netherlands, you know. You have heard of the Netherlands, haven’t you?”
    “Yes, officer.”
    “You go right in the direction I am pointing out. See? I don’t think you will meet a customs officer or patrol on the way. But if you should see someone hovering around, then take care not to be seen yourself. Keep out of his way and don’t mind him at all. After going in this direction for about one hour you will come to a railroad track. Follow this track for a while in the same direction until you reach the depot. Hang around until dawn, but be careful. Avoid being seen. Early in the morning large groups of working-men will come to take the train to Rotterdam, where they work. You go then to the ticket-office and say: `Rotterdam, derde klasse.’ Don’t say one word more. There, take this money, five gulden.”
    He gave me five coins and then said: “Here is a bite to eat. Don’t buy anything at the station. Your talk would betray you. Somebody might get suspicious and start to question you. Then everything would be lost and you’d be done for. Understand? Take this.”
    He handed me a couple of sandwiches wrapped up nicely, two packages of cigarettes, and a box of matches.
    “You see, you don’t have to buy anything. Here is everything you need. Soon you will be in Rotterdam. Don’t talk to anybody. Pretend you’re deaf.”
    I was overwhelmed with joy. Ordered to hang me, they helped me to make off and clear out. I am glad we helped them win the war. These Belgians are people who really deserved to be on our side during the war. I don’t care if they never pay back the money we loaned them. I am paid in full, and whether others get their money or not certainly does not concern me any longer.
    I jumped like a spring chicken and cried: “Thank you, thank you ever so much, and if you should ever come to Cincinnati or some other place up there in Wisconsin, be sure and call me up. Thank you, boys.”
    “Don’t make a fuss,” he interrupted me; “one of those boneheads over there might hear you yelling. And I tell you that would be no good for you, nor for us either. Now, listen carefully to what I have to tell you.” He whispered, but he repeated every word three or five times so as to impress me with the full meaning of his warning. “Don’t you ever dare to come back to Belgium. I warn you, sailor. If we ever find you in our country again within the next hundred years, I swear we will lock you up for life, and ninety-nine years more. Life imprisonment. That’s something, sailor, believe me. I have orders to warn you properly so that you