They appeared to be actually walking through the flames like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.  It was all a glorious and fascinating nightmare.

There was at this time an ominous lull in the moaning pound of shrapnel.

Out of the darkness in the direction of West Antwerp came a new sound-the low methodical beat of feet.  The noise became gradually louder and louder until one could hear the rumble of heavy wheels and distinguish the sound of voices above the crowd.  This was the beginning of the British and Belgian retreat, which started at about eight o’clock Thursday night, and, under cover of darkness, continued unbroken for eight hours.  Following the line taken by the escaping populace this retreat went past our position on the water-front.  Before dawn on Friday morning, when the light became strong enough for the advancing army to make out the enemy’s position, practically the entire Belgian army plus ten thousand Royal British Naval Marines had got across the pontoon bridge and were well along the road to Ghent.  During all these hours squads of gendarmes with fixed bayonets held back such remaining townsfolk as attempted to get near the bridge.  To these wretches it seemed that their last avenue of escape had been cut off.  There were now at the Queen’s, Arthur Ruhl, Hare, and myself, in addition to an English intelligence officer and the recruits from “Fort Thompson.”  We talked over our plans for the next day.  The intelligence officer volunteered to get up with me at sunrise and scour the river for a barge.  It was my idea, in case we could make any kind of arrangements for a get-away, to come back and report to the other fellows.  I remember that Arthur Ruhl was uncertain as to whether he would come with us or wait for the German entry.  He was worried about some friends in the British field hospital, and he decided not to leave without looking them up,—­a pretty white thing to do, it seemed to me.

I tried to sleep, but the rumble of artillery wagons and shouts of the marchers prevented.  So I spent most of the night of the British and Belgian retreat beneath my window.  At daybreak the intelligence officer came to my room and we started out along the water-front, moving in the direction of the Dutch border.  With the rising sun on Friday morning the German Taubes again swept over the city.  When the Germans saw that the whole British and Belgian army had got away from them they moved up their 42 cm. guns and literally gave us hell.  This time they had no mercy on the few remaining noncombatants.

The intelligence officer’s baggage delayed us a long time.  When we got up nearly as far as Fort St. Philippe, we separated.  We saw a barge anchored in the river and he had an idea it would leave about seven o’clock, and that we might be able to get on it.  I gave him my knapsack containing my gold belt, which, in the confusion, I had not had time to strap on, and started to make a dash back to the Queen’s, because I considered that I ought to let the other fellows know what had happened to us.