In many groups were to be seen old, old people, grandfathers and grandmothers of a family, and these in their shaking frailty and terror, which they could not withstand, were the more pitiable objects in the great gathering of stricken townsfolk.  This pathetic clinging together of the family was one of the most affecting sights I witnessed, and I have not the slightest doubt that in the mad rush for refuge beyond the borders of their native land many family groups of this sort completely perished.

All day and throughout the night these pitiful scenes continued, and when I went down to the quayside early Thursday, when the dawn was throwing a wan light over this part of the world, I found again a great host of citizens awaiting their chance of flight.

In the dimness of the breaking day this gathering of “Les Miserables” presented, as it seemed to me, the tragedy of Belgium in all its horror.  I shall never forget the sight.  Words would fail to convey anything but a feeble picture of the depths of misery and despair there.  People stood in dumb and patient ranks drawn down to the quayside by the announcement that two boats would leave at 11 o’clock for Ostend, and Ostend looks across to England, where lie their hopes.

There were fully 40,000 of them assembled on the long quay, and all of them were inspired by the sure and certain hope that they would be among the lucky ones who would get on board one of the boats.  Alas for their hopes, the two boats did not sail, and when they realized this I fancied I heard a low wail of anguish rise from the disappointed multitude.

Other means of escape were, however, available in the shape of a dozen or fifteen tugboats, whose destinations were Rotterdam and Flushing and other ports of Holland.  They were not vessels of any considerable passenger carrying capacity, and as there was no one to arrange a systematic embarkation a wild struggle followed among the frantic people to obtain places on the tugs.  Men, women, and children fought desperately with each other to get on board, and in that moment of supreme anguish human nature was seen in one of its worst moods, but who can blame these stricken people?  Shells that were destroying their homes and giving their beloved town to the flames were screaming over their heads.  Their trade was not war; they were merchants, shopkeepers, comfortable citizens of more than middle age, and there were many women and children among them, and this horror had come upon them in a more appalling shape than it has visited any other civilized community in modern times.

There was a scarcity of gangways to the boats and the only means of boarding them was by narrow planks sloping at a dangerous angle.  Up these the fugitives struggled, and the strong elbowed the weak out of their way in their mad haste to escape.  The marvel to me as I watched the scramble was that many were not crushed to death in the struggle to get on board or forced into the river and drowned.  As it was, mishaps were very few.  One old lady of 80 years slipped on one of the planks and fell against the side of the boat, fracturing her skull.  Several people fell into the river and two were drowned, but that is the sum total of accidents as far as I could ascertain.