thy
aristocrats, worthy _proteges_ of a high official. He insisted on our
bringing our cushions to dry at his house, and to get rid of him we
consented, for we were wet, hungry, and longing to change and wash.
He talked himself away at last, and we hid the log and charts; but he
returned, in the postmaster's uniform this time before we had
finished supper, and haled us and our cushions up through dark and
mud to his cottage near the quay. To reach it we crossed a small
bridge spanning what seemed to be a small river with sluice-gates,
just as we had thought.

'He showed his prizes to his wife, who was quite flustered by the
distinguished strangers, and received the cushions with awe; and next
we were carried off to the Gasthaus and exhibited to the village
circle, where we talked ducks and weather. (Nobody takes us
seriously; I never felt less like a conspirator.) Our friend, who is
a feather-headed chatterbox, is enormously important about his
ridiculous little port, whose principal customer seems to be the
Langeoog post-boat, a galliot running to and fro according to tide. A
few lighters also come down the stream with bricks and produce from
the interior, and are towed to the islands. The harbour has from five
to seven feet in it for two hours out of twelve! Herr Schenkel talked
us back to the yacht, which we found resting on the mud--and here we
are. Davies pretends there are harbour smells, and says he won't be
able to sleep; is already worrying about how to get away from here.
Ashore, they were saying that it's impossible, under sail, in strong
north-east winds, the channel being too narrow to tack in. For my
part I find it a huge relief to be in any sort of harbour after a
fortnight in the open. There are no tides or anchors to think about,
and no bumping or rolling. Fresh milk to-morrow!'

XVI. Commander von Bruening

TO RESUME my story in narrative form.

I was awakened at ten o'clock on the 19th, after a long and delicious
sleep, by Davies's voice outside, talking his unmistakable German.
Looking out, in my pyjamas, I saw him on the quay above in
conversation with a man in a long mackintosh coat and a gold-laced
navy cap. He had a close-trimmed auburn beard, a keen, handsome face,
and an animated manner. It was raining in a raw air.

They saw me, and Davies said: 'Hullo, Carruthers! Here's Commander
von Bruening from the Blitz--that's "meiner Freund" Carruthers.'
(Davies was deplorably weak in te