“Do not worry.  I will do all I can for you, and will see you do not want during the time your husband is interned.”

What became of Mrs. C——­ and her child just then I do not know, because at that moment the boat sheered off with a sorrowful and crying list of passengers who waved frantic farewells.  Alas!  I fear that in some instances that was the last occasion upon which husband and wife ever saw one another, and when children were parted from “daddy” for life.

Such was the story related by Mr. K——.  After the boat had left, the detained prisoners, he explained, were formed up on the quay, and surrounded by an imposing guard with fixed bayonets, were marched off.  It was a sad party.  All that was dearest in life to them had been torn away at a few minutes’ notice through the short-sightedness of Prussian militarism or the desire of the Road-hog of Europe to display his officialism and the authority he had enjoyed for but a few days.  Many of these tourists, as one might naturally expect, were sorely worried by the thoughts as to what would become of their loved ones upon their arrival in England, many without money or friends to receive them.  This was the discussion that occupied their minds when they were marching towards Wesel Station, and when the tiny party, of which I was one, being marched from Wesel prison, met them in the street, as already related.

As for ourselves we were soon destined to taste the pleasures of the best traditions of German honour.  No provisions of any kind whatever had been placed on the train for our requirements.  What was more we were denied the opportunity to purchase any food at any station where we happened to stop.  At one point a number of girls pressed round the carriages offering glasses of milk at 20 pfennigs.  As we were all famished and parched there was a brisk trade.  But the moment the officers saw what was happening they rushed forward and drove the girls back by force of arms.

So far as our compartment was concerned we were more fortunate than many of our colleagues.  Our soldier warden was by no means a bad fellow at heart.  In his pack he carried his daily ration—­two thick hunks of black bread.  He took this out and instantly proffered one hunk to us, which we gladly accepted and divided among ourselves.

Those being the early days of the war the German soldier was a universal favourite among the civilians.  Directly one was espied he became a magnet.  The women, girls and elder men rushed forward and wildly thrust all sorts of comestibles into his hands.  Unhappily we did not stop at many stations; our train displayed a galling preference for lonely signal posts, so that the chances of our guard receiving many such gifts were distinctly limited.  But at one station he did receive an armful of broedchen—­tiny loaves—­which he divided amongst us subsequently with the greatest camaraderie.