"All together; push for all you are worth!" exclaimed Kenneth desperately.
Inch by inch the boat was urged onwards, till with a sudden jerk it dropped across the sill into deep water. Rollo, faint with pain, sat limply in the for'ard well; then, concealing his injuries, he assisted the girls to the doubtful shelter of the cabin.
Kenneth, too, was in a sorry plight. Setting his teeth tightly he restarted the engine; then, taking up his post at the wheel, he guided the swift little craft towards the centre of the River Scheldt.
In spite of the still pressing danger the crew were enthralled by the scene that presented itself to their gaze. Antwerp was in the throes of its death-struggle. Dominating the houses on the river bank rose the spire of the cathedral, its delicate tracery silhouetted clearly against the dull red glare of the burning oil-tanks. Overhead the thick pall of smoke had spread far and wide, its lower edges tinted blood-red by the blaze of the numerous fires. High above the roofs were the rapid, seemingly interminable brilliant flashes of the exploding shells, while away to the southward the sky was stabbed by the incessant lightning-like glare of the bombarding guns.
Antwerp had fallen. Belgium as a country had practically ceased to exist; Belgium as a nation, still undaunted, had made a supreme sacrifice. She had saved Europe—and Europe's task was clear. Not until the brave little nation was rehabilitated, and the German menace crushed once and for all time, could the Allies hope to lay down the sword that they had been reluctantly compelled to unsheathe.
CHAPTER XXIX
On the North Sea
The crew of the motor-boat had no great difficulty in finding their way down the river. The glare on the water, and on the underside of the enormous expanse of smoke overhead, enabled them to see objects ahead with comparative ease. The actual channel was well defined, at first by several barges still at anchor in the stream, and later by hundreds of small craft making their way to safety.
Those who depended mainly upon sail to propel them were quickly overtaken, for the night was particularly windless and their brown canvas hung idly from the yards. Satisfied with having got beyond the danger zone, the crews of these fishing-vessels were content to drift, save for the occasional assistance of their heavy sweeps. The decks were literally packed with refugees, who, glad to have escaped with their lives, exhibited an uncanny calmness.