When we grew tired of walking we sought little anchorages. By two o'clock any man on deck could have had his pick of abandoned chairs, but they were not good chairs—the extension part too short. One very young Canadian officer opened up his kit, made a bed and what lee he could of the forward smoke-stack. A round smoke-stack makes a poor lee, but once tucked in he stuck, and was there in the morning when clear light came.
The moon went behind clouds, and from the clouds little cold showers of rain came peppering down. Heavier clouds came, and heavier squalls with rain; and a mean little cross sea began to make. Straight ahead, above the little seas a light showed, and soon another—this a powerful one. We were still going at a great clip. We might know it anew by the way that big light jumped forward to meet us. Soon we had it off our bow, abeam, on our quarter; we were inshore.
A destroyer came out to meet us and blinked a message from screened lights. More ships met us. We passed other ships—all kinds of ships, of which in detail a man must not write here.
In good time and in smooth waters we made our landing. There was another long wait, the same passport grilling, but in a different way, and then a fast train to London. A taxi then, a room, a shave and bath, clean linen, and—oh boy!—the roast beef of old England and people you knew to talk to!
THE CENSORS[ToC]
Before a visiting correspondent can do anything on the other side he has to report to a censor somewhere. In London the Chief Admiralty Censor was a retired Royal Navy captain and a Sir Knight, but not wearing his uniform or parading his knighthood. He was quartered in an old dark building where Nelson used to hang out in the days before Trafalgar. There was a sign on the door:
DON'T KNOCK. COME IN