The sea was veiled by the fog, but behind its hazy curtains could be distinguished some silhouettes like islands with great towers and sharp, pointed minarets.  The islands were advancing over the oily waters slowly and majestically, with impressive dignity.  Julio counted eighteen.  They appeared to fill the ocean.  It was the Channel Fleet which had just left the English coast by Government order, sailing around simply to show its strength.  Seeing this procession of dreadnoughts for the first time, Desnoyers was reminded of a flock of marine monsters, and gained a better idea of the British power.  The German ship passed among them, shrinking, humiliated, quickening its speed.  “One might suppose,” mused the youth, “that she had an uneasy conscience and wished to scud to safety.”  A South American passenger near him was jesting with one of the Germans, “What if they have already declared war! . . .  What if they should make us prisoners!”

After midday, they entered Southampton roads.  The Frederic August hurried to get away as soon as possible, and transacted business with dizzying celerity.  The cargo of passengers and baggage was enormous.  Two launches approached the transatlantic and discharged an avalanche of Germans residents in England who invaded the decks with the joy of those who tread friendly soil, desiring to see Hamburg as soon as possible.  Then the boat sailed through the Channel with a speed most unusual in these places.

The people, leaning on the railing, were commenting on the extraordinary encounters in this marine boulevard, usually frequented by ships of peace.  Certain smoke lines on the horizon were from the French squadron carrying President Poincare who was returning from Russia.  The European alarm had interrupted his trip.  Then they saw more English vessels patrolling the coast line like aggressive and vigilant dogs.  Two North American battleships could be distinguished by their mast-heads in the form of baskets.  Then a Russian battleship, white and glistening, passed at full steam on its way to the Baltic.  “Bad!” said the South American passengers regretfully.  “Very bad!  It looks this time as if it were going to be serious!” and they glanced uneasily at the neighboring coasts on both sides.  Although they presented the usual appearance, behind them, perhaps, a new period of history was in the making.

The transatlantic was due at Boulogne at midnight where it was supposed to wait until daybreak to discharge its passengers comfortably.  It arrived, nevertheless, at ten, dropped anchor outside the harbor, and the Commandant gave orders that the disembarkation should take place in less than an hour.  For this reason they had quickened their speed, consuming a vast amount of extra coal.  It was necessary to get away as soon as possible, seeking the refuge of Hamburg.  The radiographic apparatus had evidently been working to some purpose.