il steamer, homeward-bound from Java with London as a port of call.

On that sea-route I might have picked up a memory at every mile if the
past had not been eclipsed by the tremendous actuality. We saw the signs
of it in the emptiness of the Mediterranean, the aspect of Gibraltar, the
misty glimpse in the Bay of Biscay of an outward-bound convoy of
transports, in the presence of British submarines in the Channel.
Innumerable drifters flying the Naval flag dotted the narrow waters, and
two Naval officers coming on board off the South Foreland, piloted the
ship through the Downs.

The Downs! There they were, thick with the memories of my sea-life. But
what were to me now the futilities of an individual past? As our ship's
head swung into the estuary of the Thames, a deep, yet faint, concussion
passed through the air, a shock rather than a sound, which missing my ear
found its way straight into my heart. Turning instinctively to look at
my boys, I happened to meet my wife's eyes. She also had felt
profoundly, coming from far away across the grey distances of the sea,
the faint boom of the big guns at work on the coast of Flanders--shaping
the future.

FIRST NEWS--1918

Four years ago, on the first day of August, in the town of Cracow,
Austrian Poland, nobody would believe that the war was coming. My
apprehensions were met by the words: "We have had these scares before."
This incredulity was so universal amongst people of intelligence and
information, that even I, who had accustomed myself to look at the
inevitable for years past, felt my conviction shaken. At that time, it
must be noted, the Austrian army was already partly mobilised, and as we
came through Austrian Silesia we had noticed all the bridges being
guarded by soldiers.

"Austria will back down," was the opinion of all the well-informed men
with whom I talked on the first of August. The session of the University
was ended and the students were either all gone or going home to
different parts of Poland, but the professors had not all departed yet on
their respective holidays, and amongst them the tone of scepticism
prevailed generally. Upon the whole there was very little inclination to
talk about the possibility of a war. Nationally, the Poles felt that
from their point of view there was nothing to hope from it. "Whatever
happens," said a very distinguished man to me, "we may be certain that
it's our skins which will pay for it as usual."