It may be wondered why the arrest of the leaders, so much dreaded by Devoy, was not carried out. According to rumour, Mr Birrell, the Chief Secretary, was much swayed by the opinions of the Nationalist leaders, who counselled tolerance under every provocation for fear of precipitating a disastrous conflict.
On 4 March the Germans promised to send two or three trawlers containing 20,000 rifles and ten machine guns to Tralee Bay between 20 and 23 April and a messenger was dispatched to Ireland from America with full instructions. The Irish leaders were very anxious that a submarine should enter the Liffey and go right up to the Pigeon House at the same time.
These preparations on the part of the Germans were not a military or naval enterprise, they were directed by the German Foreign Office. On 26 March Devoy was informed that three trawlers and a cargo steamer would arrive with 1,400 tons of cargo and that lighters must be ready to unload them. These instructions were transmitted to Ireland. The Germans had agreed to arrange a demonstration by airship and naval attack to divert attention from the landing of the munitions and these took place; but the Germans would not consent to the landing of troops, which had been urged so strongly by both Casement and Devoy, nor would they send a submarine up the Liffey, because the naval authorities foresaw technical difficulties.
We must now return to Casement in Germany. Evidence was given at his trial about the manner in which he carried out the first part of his scheme – the formation of an Irish Brigade. His reception by the Irish prisoners of war was not all that he had expected. Many of the men were inclined to give him a hostile reception, but he did succeed in seducing fifty-six men from their oath of allegiance. How far they were impressed by his appeal to patriotism for Ireland or how far by their desire to obtain more liberty and better treatment from the Germans there are no means of knowing. These men were put under the command of Monteith, who obtained a commission as lieutenant and were removed to a camp at Lossen. Rumour says that their behaviour, especially when not entirely under the influence of sobriety, was embarrassing to the Germans, who were compelled to limit their bounds and to impose certain other restrictions. They provided them with a handsome green uniform but not with arms.
A highly placed personage in Germany has since told me that towards the end of 1915 the attitude of the German authorities towards Casement had cooled; so much so that a very strong hint was conveyed to him to leave the capital. However this may be, in January 1916 he went to Munich and from there to Kuranstalt for a health cure. While he was undergoing this cure and was still in bed he received on 3 March a letter from Monteith, asking him to come to Berlin at once. He replied that he could not move and that Monteith should come to him. On 7 March Monteith arrived and told him that on 1 March Lieutenant Frey, of the General Staff, Political Section, had sent for him and told him that they had received a message from Devoy to the effect that something was about to happen and asking for the dispatch of munitions, which the Germans were now ready to supply. Upon this, Casement drew up a memorandum setting out the best means of landing arms in Ireland and Monteith returned with it to Berlin. In the memorandum Casement suggested that he and two picked men should be conveyed to Ireland in a submarine to concert measures with the Irish leaders for landing the arms. On 16 March he went himself to Berlin and had an interview with Captain Nadolny and two other officers of the Political Section of the General Staff, who told him that the Admiralty had declined to furnish a submarine; that Devoy had asked for trained gunners; that instead of 100,000 rifles only 20,000 could be sent, together with ten machine guns and 5,000,000 cartridges. Captain Nadolny asked whether Casement would be prepared to take over with him the fifty-six members of the Irish Brigade from Lossen. To this Casement objected that it was highly improbable that the whole body could equally be trusted.
This news was most disturbing to Casement, who had never dreamed of an armed rebellion taking place so soon. All he wanted was that the Germans should pour arms into Ireland and follow later with a military expedition. After thinking things over, he called at the German Admiralty on 17 March to ask why it was impossible to send a submarine and on learning that the objections were technical he suggested sending a messenger over to Ireland to bring back accurate particulars of the local plans and the scheme for landing the arms. It happened that in the previous November one John M’Govey had come over from the United States as a volunteer. The German Admiralty approved of the suggestion and on Sunday 19 March, M’Govey was sent into Denmark with instructions to reach Dublin without delay. Monteith, meanwhile, was to obtain from the German military authorities an experimental gun with which to train the Irish Brigade at Lossen.
Having made these arrangements Casement returned to Bavaria. As he said afterwards, he felt himself under no obligation to the German government. He thought that the munitions should have been offered much earlier, ‘since the political services of Irishmen in America to the German cause far transcended the value of any possible gift of arms Germany might make to Ireland’. He had always been opposed to any armed revolt in Ireland unless it was backed up by strong German military help. He said that in the ‘Treaty’ of 23 to 28 December 1914 it was stipulated that ‘should the Irish Brigade be sent to Ireland, the German government would support its dispatch with adequate military support of men, arms and supplies’. On 29 March he returned to Berlin very much concerned about his responsibility towards the Irish soldiers whom he had seduced from their loyalty. As he expressed it, ‘They had committed treason under a distinct and formal promise, sealed and delivered, by the German imperial government, that, in the event of their being dispatched to Ireland, they should be supported by an ample German force, a part of an Army of Deliverance.’ He had also an uneasy feeling that if any of them should chance to be captured on the high seas they might, with perfect justice, turn King’s Evidence and establish a very damaging case against himself, who would be regarded as a paid tool of the German government.
With his mind filled with these disturbing thoughts, he called again upon Captain Nadolny, who, to his surprise, addressed him in terms of great discourtesy and accused him of a breach of faith in having sent M’Govey to Ireland without consulting him. Probably the traditional jealousy between the naval and military departments was at the bottom of this outburst. Nadolny further threatened that unless Casement submitted to the conditions a telegram would be sent to Devoy that though Germany was quite ready to send the help she had promised, the whole plan had been frustrated by Casement himself and he would then appear as a traitor to the Irish cause. The next day he was asked to call again and on this occasion he was treated with conventional politeness. Captain Nadolny pointed out that it was the Irish who had decided upon a revolt; the Germans were in no way responsible: they were merely fulfilling their promise to furnish arms to the fullest possible extent at the request of the Irish. He made the aims of the German government quite clear: they were not idealistic but severely practical. They would supply the arms, but they expected them to be used without delay and if Casement opposed the plan he would stop the arms and throw the entire responsibility upon him.
Casement replied that the German government was entirely ignoring the agreement it had made with him in December 1914; that he felt sure that at the most the Irish would be able to put 12,000 men into the field and that the rebellion must fail. He said that a firing party of twelve machine gunners ought to be furnished by the Germans to cover the disembarkation of the arms. In view of all that Captain Nadolny had said, he thought that the arms must be sent on the date fixed, but he still pressed for a submarine in which he would go by himself without the Irish soldiers and, to impress Nadolny still further, he declared that he would take poison with him for use if the steamer conveying him were stopped by a British warship, in order to escape the indignities reserved for him ‘should I fall into the hands of the government I have dared so unwisely to defy’.
Casement had written a letter to von Wedell. A man of this name was captured by a patrol boat
off the north of Scotland in 1915. On the way to the coast the patrol boat struck a mine and foundered and von Wedell, with most of the crew, was drowned. A few weeks later the German government began to inquire about him through the American embassy. Where was he? Was he interned? Did the British government know where he was and was he in a position where he could communicate with his friends? We could say with perfect truth that the British government did know where he was and believed he could communicate with his friends. Great importance must have been attached to this man, for as late as 1917 among the instructions given to a spy was a direction that he should ascertain the fate of von Wedell.
On 1 April, Casement was ill in bed and on that date he read in the Irish World Devoy’s speech at the Irish Convention on 4 and 5 March. On this he modified his views about the rebellion and thought that Devoy’s contention that the British government was determined to destroy the Irish Volunteers and arrest the leaders and that conscription would be applied to Ireland, altered the whole situation. A rising did seem to be necessary and he decided to go. The Germans met him halfway and furnished the submarine, in which he, Monteith and Corporal Bailey arrived in Tralee Bay on Good Friday, 21 April.
Has there ever been a time in history when Irish rebels appealing for foreign aid have not wrecked all by their hopeless incapacity for organisation and administration? For mark what happened. The Germans were true to their promise. They had loaded a small steamer, the Aud, with 1,400 tons of munitions concealed under a deck-load of timber. She had Norwegian papers and professed to be bound for the west coast of Africa and her naval crew were cleverly disguised in the ordinary kit of a Norwegian tramp.
There was ample time for the rebels to prepare for unloading the cargo. They had done nothing. The ship proceeded round the north of Scotland unobserved and anchored in Tralee Bay on Good Friday. Almost immediately a small patrol boat ranged up alongside, went through her papers and made a cursory inspection of the deck, though the Germans alleged that one of the hatches was actually open at the time of the visit and the arms were thus exposed to view. The Germans thought that their presence in Tralee Bay had excited no suspicion, but the captain thought it prudent, as there was no sign from the shore, to put to sea and come in again with his cargo when the coast was clear. But fortune was against him. His ship was sighted by the Blue Bell, who signalled her to stop and then ordered her to follow to Queenstown. For a short time she obeyed the order and then the signalman on the Blue Bell reported that her engines had stopped and that they had run up a flag to the fore. At the same moment there was a dull explosion. The German war flag broke at the top-mast and the ship’s crew were seen leaving in the boats. The Aud was sinking by the head. When the crew were received on board the Blue Bell they were in German naval uniform, but they refused to give any account of themselves and they were sent over to Scotland Yard for examination.
This incident was tinged with romance. There was nothing actually to show what the Aud had on board and why she had put into Tralee. The first step was for the Admiralty to dispatch a diver to the scene of the sinking. Fortunately the sea was calm. I saw the diver on his return. He was a very spruce, intelligent and observant young man. He described to me the sandy bottom of the bay on which the Aud was lying with a great rent in her side and the floor of the Atlantic littered with broken rifles, six of which he had brought back with him. There were Russian marks on the rifles. We sent for the Russian military attaché and then it was found that even this grudging service to the cause of Ireland had been done on the cheap, for the rifles were all Russian, captured at Tannenberg and very much the worse for wear.
CHAPTER 8
THE CASEMENT CASE
THERE WAS A sensation at New Scotland Yard when the entire crew of the Aud, including the officers, were marched over one evening for interrogation. They blocked the passages and a crowd assembled outside. I always found that when German naval prisoners are examined it is better to take the juniors first, for they frequently make admissions which are useful when the time comes for examining the officers, but in this case we reversed the order.
All had agreed to tell the same story – that they were carrying pit-props with a few arms for the Cameroons and that, having delivered their cargo, they were to become an auxiliary cruiser. The limited coal capacity and the slow speed of the boat (in knots) showed this version to be absurd. They said that they had anchored off the Irish coast to re-stow their cargo, but on this their stories differed. No doubt they were actually engaged in preparing the cargo for landing when the patrol boat came up and signalled by wireless for a cruiser. On this the captain of the Aud had taken alarm and steamed away.
The captain was one of the most unpleasant Germans I have ever met, besides being entirely lacking in a sense of humour. He has since written a book about his experiences which, for that reason, is dull reading. During the course of his examination I observed to him that a naval crew who sunk their ship after capture was guilty of piracy. He looked uncomfortable and said that the orders of his Emperor had to be obeyed. ‘We were not a naval crew, we were a civilian crew.’
I said, ‘You cannot be both.’
‘But we were both,’ he persisted. ‘When we wore uniform we were a warship; when we wore civilian clothes we were a merchant ship. I kept the uniforms hanging on a line and when we broke the war flag the men jumped into them and we became a warship.’ He was seriously annoyed when we laughed.
And now to return to Casement. The submarine on which he was originally to cross had broken down and had had to signal for another, commanded, as it turned out, by a less agreeable captain, to take over the passengers. This captain declined to approach the shore, but put his passengers into a flat-bottomed canvas boat without a rudder and, as Casement described it, ‘left them to their fate’. At the last moment the captain asked Casement what clothes he wanted and Casement, describing the conversation, waved his hand with a theatrical gesture and said, ‘Only my shroud.’ The boat upset in landing and they were all wet through. They buried their belongings in the sand and Casement sent his two companions into the country to obtain help. Monteith did find friends, was driven off in a car and eventually made his way to the United States. Bailey, less fortunate, was arrested. Meanwhile, Casement was sheltering in an old ruin called M’Kenna’s Fort, where, on being arrested, he gave the name of a friend with whom he used to stay in England.
On Saturday, I was taking my turn of night ‘Zeppelin duty’ at New Scotland Yard. At 10.30 p.m. my telephone rang and a voice said, ‘You know that stranger who arrived in the collapsible boat at Currahane – do you know who he is?’
I said, ‘You’re joking?’
‘I am not,’ said the voice, ‘and he will be over early tomorrow morning for you to take him in hand.’ It was not necessary for either of us to give a name. We had been expecting Casement’s arrival for many weeks.
At ten o’clock on Easter Sunday I had my first interview with Sir Roger Casement. He walked into the room rather theatrically – a tall, thin, cadaverous man with thick black hair turning grey, a pointed beard and thin, nervous hands, mahogany-coloured from long tropical service. His forehead was a network of wrinkles, his complexion deeply sunburnt. I told him to sit down and asked him his name.
‘Surely you know it.’
‘I have to guard against the possibility of personation.’
‘Well, I am Sir Roger Casement.’
I administered the usual caution that anything he said might be used against him. At first he was reticent, his great fear being that he might say something that would betray other people, or make him appear a traitor to the Germans, whose guest he had been. As long as the shorthand-writer remained he said little beyond admitting acts of high treason, but when we were alone he became far more communicative. He rose from the armchair and sat easily on the corner of my table. The rising in Ireland, he said, was to have been on Easter Sunday; he was to have landed a week earlier. He professed to know nothing of the intrigues i
n America which had fixed the date for the rising. He said that he was lying ill in Munich when ‘a trusted friend’ asked him to go to Berlin, for the time had now come to act. When he found that the Germans intended to send only one ship with munitions and not a single German officer, he said that he charged them with criminal folly and that the officer blushed and said, ‘Well, this is all that the government intends to do. You must go with them, because if you refuse your countrymen shall know that you betrayed them.’ They wanted him to go in the Aud herself, but he stipulated for a submarine, in order, so he said, to warn the rebels that they had no chance of success. The breaking down of the submarine prevented this. He was very insistent that the news of his capture should be published, as it would prevent bloodshed. We felt pretty sure that the Irish rebels knew all about his capture from his companion who escaped, quite apart from the fact that the arrest had appeared in the newspapers on the Saturday. When commenting some weeks afterwards upon the Rebellion, the Germans remarked that Casement had credited himself with possessing superhuman powers; that he imagined that his personality among the Irish would carry all before it, but that, in fact, they could not discover that his personal influence was great. They seem to have read him pretty well. The negotiations had really been carried on over his head and there is nothing to show that any of the leaders thought it necessary to consult him before they came to a decision.
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