k in that year of grace, 1917, did not always wear so peaceful
a garb. There were frequent periods when the shells whistled over or on
to the town, when the earth trembled from the concussion of high
explosives, when buildings collapsed or went heavenwards in clouds of
dust, when the streets were illumined with the yellow flash of picric
acid, or were filled with clouds of poisoned gas, when ambulances
clattered over the cobblestones, trains of wounded rolled in from the
firing line and the killed and maimed were landed from the sea.

The first indication of the change from calm to storm came at the early
hour of 10 P.M., when the air raid warning sounded throughout the town.
On the quayside all was ordered haste. Mooring ropes were cast off with
a minimum of shouting, and the larger ships moved slowly down the
harbour towards the open sea. The few small vessels left seemed to
crouch under the dock walls.

Sentries left their posts to take shelter in the great dug-outs,
constructed of heavy timbers and sand-bags. These were situated at
convenient points throughout the battered little town. In the houses
some people descended to the cellars, but many remained wherever they
happened to be, while in the cabins of the few ships which remained in
harbour the games, the reading, the letter-writing and, in a few cases,
even the sleeping went on undisturbed.

After a short interval of oppressive silence, during which time no light
or sound came from the seemingly deserted town, a faint whir of
propellers became just audible in the stillness of the summer night.
Then it died away momentarily. Suddenly a bright glare, like that of a
star-shell, lit up the roofs and streets, and almost simultaneously
came the dull vibrating report of a bomb. It sounded from the direction
of the cathedral. Searchlights flashed out from various points, but
their powerful rays were lost in the luminous vault above. Guns roared
and bright flashes appeared like summer lightning in the sky. Every few
seconds the town trembled from the shock of exploding bombs, first at
one point and then at another, but nothing could be seen of the raiding
squadron. Pieces from the shells bursting overhead and fragments of
bombs and shattered masonry fell like rain into the streets and into the
waters of the harbour.

On the quayside a big aerial torpedo had made a crater large enough to
bury the horse which it had killed in a near-by stable. A few seconds
later ano