m before we understood where he was taking
us. We refused, for reasons of a purely personal nature. "Nix," we
said, and when he would not accept our refusal we tried it in
Niederlaender. "No, no." Still he persisted, and his good wife too. So
we led him firmly aside and showed him the indescribably verminous
condition we were in. That convinced him. They appreciated that little
touch and gave us a deep pile of blankets, flung down on three feet of
sweet-smelling straw in an outhouse, where we slept as we had not
slept for many months.

In the morning Letema escorted us down to Aaschen, which was the
nearest large town. A Belgian and a Holland lady, hearing of the
escaped English prisoners, met us within twenty minutes of our
arrival, took us in hand and loaded us down with kindnesses. We ate
only five full sized meals that day, not counting the extras we
absorbed between them. And there were more cigars. The raw oats and
potatoes seemed a long way off.

Our day at Aaschen was a repetition of the previous one at Alboom and
Borger, but on a grander scale. The ladies took us down to Rotterdam
and did not leave us until they had turned us over to the British
consul there, whose name I have forgotten but who, with the vice
consul, Mr. Mueller, was very kind indeed; in fact, all whom we met,
irrespective of their nationality, age or sex placed us under eternal
obligations to them. In particular Mr. Neilson, the rector of the
English church and in charge of the Sailors' Institute there, seemed
to live only for us.

Mr. Henken at the American consulate was equally kind. They lodged us
at the Seaman's Rest, took our painted rags away and clothed us in
blue "civvie" suits which seemed to us the height of sinful luxury.
We were shaved, clean and could eat everything in sight, at any time
of the day or night. And did so. The meals we used to shift! We were
very glad to get rid of our waterproof suits--for that is what they
had become, from the paint.

Mr. Neilson took us sight seeing every day. Once we went out to Mr.
Carnegie's Peace Palace which had been closed on account of the war
but which we were permitted to inspect. I had not thought such
buildings were done, except in dreams. It made our own bitter past
seem unreal. The Italian room, in particular, seemed like a delicate
canvas in marble and done in a fashion the memory of which gripped me
for days and still haunts me. We spent days thus; supremely happy.

We were j