he Germans could
not wait, and they had to go away without the skipper. It was an
experience no man would forget; and the British of it is that this same
man, who had a pretty good chance of spending many months in a German
prison camp, is still guiding vessels flying our flag from France to
England and England to France.

"In Boulogne, I had to take a train for Paris. It was the longest train
I ever set eyes on. One end of it seemed to be in the dock station while
the other was on the outskirts of the town. You can get an idea of its
length when I say that it had to stop twice at all stations. There was
no attempt at speed until we got within twenty miles of Paris."

In a railroad station in Paris this officer encountered a friend who was
a commander in the Royal Naval Air Service, and the traveller thereupon
decided that nobody could give him a better idea of the war in the brief
time at his disposal than this man. Hence, after a dash to the hotel and
taking chances of getting his suitcase, the sea-fighter, with only a
tooth-brush and a piece of soap, finally joined the flying man, and off
they went to the war. My naval friend continued:--

"War stared at us after we had passed through Chantilly, and on the way
to Amiens we sped by forty or fifty ambulances. It was at the Cafe
Gobert, in Amiens, that we got out of the automobile and had luncheon.
That town was thronged with nonchalant women and blue-clad poilus.
Following our refreshment, we continued our journey. We ran into
soldiers and guns, aeroplanes, and more guns of all calibres; there must
have been two miles of them in one batch that we passed on the way to
Arras, as well as 'umpty' parks of lorries.

"The first steam engine that I got a chance of seeing since leaving
England was an antiquated London, Chatham, and Dover locomotive attached
to a long train of cars filled with provisions and so forth, helped out
by Belgian and French engines. The rail-head, not far from that
particular 'somewhere,' reminded me of Whiteley's shop in London. Then I
observed a dozen fire-engines painted khaki colour. There were officers'
baths, coal and wood on lorries, tents, and everything you can think
of--and a lot you can't. Ammunition dumps were on our right and left,
and the occasional gleam of a sentry's bayonet let you know that
somebody was on watch.

"As I was the guest of the Royal Naval Air Service, it was naturally
gratifying to come to the home of that service