Von Heimburg then praised the British Air Service, with many a pause that invited comment from us. The pauses remained empty, and we managed to exclude the war by pretending to compare painstakingly and assiduously the respective merits of English and Australian girls.
After tea, while bathing in the Mediterranean with the Germans, we saw a strange sight along the sea-front. A line of not less than thirty fishing-craft were left stranded on the beach, with great holes knocked in their sides, so that they might not be floated. This drastic prevention of the use of small vessels, according to Santel, was because many Greek and Syrian fishermen had spied for the British or deserted to Cyprus.
"The same thing has happened over there," he added, pointing across the bay toward Acre, "and at other places, too—Tyre, Sidon, Beyrout, and every port on the coast-line of Asia Minor."
We noticed, however, that three boats were out at sea, presumably fishing for the tables of officers and officials.
"If we could get back here some night," whispered C. as we dressed, "we might collar one of those three boats, tow it out to sea by swimming, and sail to Jaffa." This revived my hopes of escape for the first time since the fiasco at Tul-Keran.
"Thank you a thousand times," I said when Von Heimburg and Santel left us at Nazareth. "It has been a most enjoyable day."
They agreed, without showing enthusiasm.
"But not a very successful one for you, I'm afraid," I added.
They were quiet for a minute, and then both laughed.
"So! You were prepared," said Santel. "Well, I shan't try again."