Günther Prien - My Way to Scapa Flow (PDF)

to Kleewitz & Bramfeld – another boxful has arrived!”
I nodded. It was not a very exacting job…but…at least we lived on it. My aunty bought the lace in the Erzgebirge – my mother sold it in Leipzig to small shops and to private customers. There was only a meagre profit…and sometimes none!
I didn’t go until evening. The box was unpleasantly large and I disliked being seen with it by my school-riends! The shop was in the Neumarkt – a small shop with a very tiny window - displaying old-fashioned underwear and nightgowns with embroidery, little doyleys and pillowlace – our pillow-lace!
It looked just as if a clothesbasket of the 1850s had been emptied into the small window… The elder sister Kleewitz – a small dried up woman with a pointed nose and black eyes – was in the shop.
“Good evening” I said – putting the box of lace on the plate-glass of the counter.
“I have brought the lace from my mother!”
“You couldn’t have come sooner, could you?” she asked querulously.
“It’s dark now!” She took the lid off the box and began to dig around in the lace muttering “Of course…unbleached again…and always the same pattern….”God’s eyes…always ’God’s eyes’…NOT a soul wants ’God’s eyes’ nowadays…I just told you that the last time!!” I said nothing! It was better so…..
The street-door-bell rang and a customer came in.
Miss Kleewitz left me standing and went to serve her. It was fascinating to see how pleasant her face became and to hear how melting her voice sounded as she talked to the old lady… I stood there and watched it all. Yes, that was how they were, those miserable shopkeepers – servility for those above them – and kicks for those below!
The customer walked off with a packet of pins!!!! Miss Kleewitz returned to my box and scratched about in it like a hen – digging for worms…murmuring again:
“The patterns were quite different…much prettier…and much more carefully worked…I hardly like to take this rubbish!”
“Well then…” I started!
She raised her head and stared at me…her eyes narrowed to small slits and her mouth gaped open. Another word from me and she would chuck me out – lace and all…
I knew that as surely as if she had said so. I thought of my poor mother, the two kids at home – I kept silent!
“Did you say anything?” she asked,
“No!”
“Well, I wouldn’t like to have heard anything anyhow!” she said triumphantly! She went to the till and counted the money out on the corner. I thanked her and went out…
Outside I lit a cigarette – anxious lest a schoolmaster might catch me!
No – it couldn’t go on like that. I had to get away – otherwise I would suffocate!
Heinz was going to tell his father that we both wanted to go to sea and I was going to tell my mother. Perhaps it would be the best to do so without more delay…
At home I gulped my supper and went to my small and narrow room – overlooking the courtyard – with its camp bed, table, chair, washstand and my small bookcase.
Close to the window you could see a very small bit of the sky.
Above my bed was a picture of Vasco da Gama – my hero - my favourite among all the great seafarers of the past. I read the story of his life again and again – how as a man of twentyseven he started off with three ships – hardly bigger than fishing-smacks – how he sailed around Africa - suffering incredible hardships – how he conquered India and then returned to Portugal – greeted by the king and acclaimed by his people!
If only I could get away to a life of adventure like that! But my mother had no money – that was the biggest obstacle! I had ninety-one Swedish Crowns which I had earned as guide at the Leipzig International Trade Fair. Would ninety-one crowns be enough for the Seaman’s College in Hamburg? Perhaps!
And if not – then I should go to sea without any training! That was my last thought on going to sleep…