As black blended into grey, he looked for rosy sign of the sun's presence below the horizon. "It will be up soon," he thought, and someone will save us." He did not doubt his survival; it was not in his nature to anticipate defeat. Already, his thoughts wandered from his present plight to the time, two months earlier at home in Prague, when he had received notification from an oil refinery in America that they had accepted him for their head chemist position. His happiness had been shortly thereafter marred by the upheaval caused by the Archduke of Austria's assassination. Antonin had set off immediately on his journey to America, hoping to get out of Europe before the world fell apart. By train, he had traveled through Austria without incident and was nearing Montenegro when he learned that Kaiser Wilhelm had declared war. Yet, as a Czech, he held a valid Austrian passport, and with his wits to rely on, he had continued on. After many set-backs and numerous changes in plan, he had finally arrived in Athens and booked passage to Boston.
Now, in the first light of day, the harbor was coming alive with the shouts and activity of rescue. "So," he thought as he was pulled from the water, "here I am, stranded in Athens. What now?"
The next day he visited the Greek authorities. "It was in your harbor that I lost everything," he said, "money, passport, clothes....everything. It is Greece's duty to give me some drachmas so that I may continue my journey. One or two hundred will do nicely."
The Greek official was indignant. "Indeed?" he said. "Just who do you think you are? The King of Albania? We will give you ten, and that is final!"
Antonin smiled his charming smile and accepted the drachmas. "Thank you very much," he said. "I shall always think of Greece with great affection."
He went then to the Russian consulate. "I am an honest Montenegrin citizen," he said. "I was a passenger on the ship that was struck by a mine yesterday. I have lost everything, including my passport. I humbly thank God that Mother Russia is the great and generous protectorate of Montenegro, for I am sure she will advance me three-hundred drachmas or so, until I am able to recoup my losses."
"You are crazy!" the Russian official said. "Get out of here!"
Somehow, Antonin managed to book passage to Boston on another ship, but the ship was stopped and searched on the high seas by the British. Because he had managed to acquire a camera and because he spoke perfect German, they thought he was a German spy. He spent a year as prisoner of war on Gibralter.
"If you MUST be taken prisoner," Antonin years later advised his American children, "be sure to be taken by the British. They expect you to exercise every day and they meticulously inspect how you make up your cot, but they do give you orange marmalade at breakfast, and a beer allowance of two liters per day."
Almost three years after the Gibralter episode, Antonin finally arrived in New York and travelled to Boston by train. Before taking up his new life, he posted a letter to the British government. The letter read:
"Honorable Sirs:
My original booking was for Athens to Boston. Due to
your government's wrongful imprisonment of me as a
spy, I ended instead in New York. I respectfully therefore
request reimbursement from you in such an amount as to
cover the cost of my train fare from New York to Boston.
Thank you."
"What did they say?" his son asked many years later when he told him the story.
"They never answered my letter," he said.