"Never mind, let her have it," I yelled.
Down the hills she rocked and swayed like a drunken thing. If there had happened to be anything in the way—well, I don't know what would have happened; but there would have been "some" mess! Anyway, nothing did happen, and I arrived at the dock in due course. No, the boat had not gone, but by the appearance of every one there, it was just on the point of moving off. To get on to the quay I had to pass over a swing bridge; a barrier was across it, and soldiers on duty were posted in order to send all cars round, some distance down, over the next bridge. Knowing that if I went there I should be too late, I yelled out to the man to allow me to pass.
"No, sir," he said. "You must go the other way."
Well, what I said I don't know, but I certainly swore, and this evidently impressed the fellow so much that he removed the barrier and allowed me to pass. I literally tumbled out of the old "bus," and shouting to L—— to bring along my tripod, I rushed to where the boat was lying against the quay.
All the French, British, and Belgian officials were lined up, and the King was shaking hands as a parting adieu. Whether it was right or not I did not stop to think. I swept by and rushed up the gangway as the King turned with a final salute.
So close a shave was it that I barely had time to screw my camera on the stand ere the Prince of Wales saluted the King and went ashore. The gangway was drawn away and, amid salutes from the officers and allied representatives, the boat left the quay. I had filmed it all. Not an incident had passed me.
The King with the Admiral in charge of the ship, entered the cabin, and only then did I have a moment's respite to realise what a narrow squeak I had had.
We were just leaving the harbour. The sea looked very choppy, and just ahead were seven torpedo boats waiting to escort us across.
I went up on to the top deck, and obtained some very interesting scenes of these boats taking up their positions around. Then the King came up and mounted the bridge. How happy he looked! A King in every sense of the word. Who, if they could see him now, could ever have any doubts as to the issue of the war? I filmed him as he stood on the bridge. In mid-channel the sea was getting rather rough, and to keep my feet, and at the same time prevent the camera from being bowled overboard, was rather a task, and this compelled me at times to call in the help of some blue-jackets standing near by.
At last the white cliffs of old England hove in sight, and to make my film-story complete I filmed the cliffs, with Dover Castle perched high above like the grim watch-dog it is.