Meantime the big Belgian woman and her children had been helped up the ladder by Henderson, who stood respectfully by, awaiting orders for their disposal.  The mother had her eye on the shore and was scowling steadily upon it when little Maurie came on deck and strolled toward Mr. Merrick to greet him on his return.  Indeed, he had approached to within a dozen feet of the group when the woman at the rail suddenly turned and saw him.

“Aha—­mon Henri!” she cried and made a dash toward him with outstretched arms.

“Clarette!”

Maurie stopped short; he grew pallid; he trembled.  But he did not await her coming.  With a howl that would have shamed a wild Indian he leaped upon the rail and made a dive into the water below.

Even as her engulfing arms closed around the spot where he had stood, there was a splash and splutter that drew everyone to the side to watch the little Belgian swim frantically to the docks.

The woman grabbed a child with either arm and held them up.

“See!” she cried.  “There is your father—­the coward—­the traitor—­the deserter of his loving family.  He thinks to escape; but we shall capture him yet, and when we do—­”

“Hurry, father,” screamed the little girl, “or she’ll get you.”

A slap on the mouth silenced her and set the boy wailing dismally.  The boy was accustomed to howl without provocation.  He kicked his mother until she let him down.  By this time they could discern only Maurie’s head bobbing in the distant water.  Presently he clambered up the dock and ran dripping toward the city, disappearing among the buildings.

“Madam,” said Uncle John, sternly, “you have cost us the best chauffeur we ever had.”

She did not understand English, but she shook her fist in Mr. Merrick’s face and danced around in an elephantine fashion and jabbered a stream of French.

“What does she say?” he asked Patsy, who was laughing merrily at the absurd scene.

“She demands to be put ashore at once.  But shall we do that, and put poor Maurie in peril of being overtaken?”

“Self preservation is the first law of nature, my dear,” replied Uncle John.  “I’m sorry for Maurie, but he alone is responsible.  Henderson,” he added, turning to the sailor, “put this woman ashore as soon as possible.  We’ve had enough of her.”

CHAPTER XVII

PERPLEXING PROBLEMS

Although the famous battle of Nieuport had come to an end, the fighting in West Flanders was by no means over.  All along the line fierce and relentless war waged without interruption and if neither side could claim victory, neither side suffered defeat.  Day after day hundreds of combatants fell; hundreds of disabled limped to the rear; hundreds were made prisoners.  And always a stream of reinforcements came to take the places of the missing ones.  Towns were occupied to-day by the Germans, to-morrow by the Allies; from Nieuport on past Dixmude and beyond Ypres the dykes had been opened and the low country was one vast lake.  The only approaches from French territory were half a dozen roads built high above the water line, which rendered them capable of stubborn defence.