Aunt Jane's Nieces in the Red Cross

"We have just arrived."

"You cannot see Belgium from here. If you are there – in my country – you will find that the German is everywhere. I have my home at Brussels crushed by a shell which killed my baby girl. My land is devastate – my crop is taken to feed German horse and German thief. There is no home left. So my wife and my boy and girl I take away; I take them to Ostend, where I hope to get ship to England. At Ostend I am arrested by Germans. Not my wife and children; only myself. I am put in prison. For three weeks they keep me, and then I am put out. They push me into the street. No one apologize. I ask for my family. They laugh and turn away. I search everywhere for my wife. A friend whom I meet thinks she has gone to Ypres, for now no Belgian can take ship from Ostend to England. So I go to Ypres. The wandering people have all been sent to Nieuport and Dunkirk. Still I search. My wife is not in Nieuport. I come here, three days ago; I cannot find her in Dunkirk; she has vanished. Perhaps – but I will not trouble you with that. This is my story, ladies and gentlemen. Behold in me – a wealthy landowner of Liege – the outcast from home and country!"

"It is dreadful!" cried Patsy.

"It is fierce," said the man. "Only an American can understand the horror of that word."

"Your fate is surely a cruel one, Maurie," declared Mr. Merrick.

"Perhaps," ventured Beth, "we may help you to find your wife and children."

The Belgian seemed pleased with these expressions of sympathy. He straightened up, threw out his chest and bowed very low.

"That is my story," he repeated; "but you must know it is also the story of thousands of Belgians. Always I meet men searching for wives. Always I meet wives searching for husbands. Well! it is our fate – the fate of conquered Belgium."

Maud brought him a deck chair and made him sit down.

"You will stay here to-night," she said.

"That's right," said Dr. Gys. "He can't resume his search until morning, that's certain. Such a tumble as he had would have killed an ordinary man; but the fellow seems made of iron."

"To be a waiter – a good waiter – develops the muscles," said Maurie.

Ajo gave him a cigarette, which he accepted eagerly. After a few puffs he said:

"I heard the German bombs. That means the enemy grows insolent. First they try to frighten us with bombs, then they attack."

"How far away do you think the Germans are?" asked Beth.

"Nieuport les Bains. But they will get no nearer."

"No?"

"Surely not, mamselle. Our soldiers are there, awaiting them. Our soldiers, and the French."

"And you think the enemy cannot capture Dunkirk?" inquired Jones.

"Dunkirk! The Germans capture Dunkirk? It is impossible."

"Why impossible?"

"Dunkirk is fortified; it is the entrance to Calais, to Dover and London. Look you, m'sieur; we cannot afford to lose this place. We cannot afford to lose even Nieuport, which is our last stand on Belgian soil. Therefore, the Germans cannot take it, for there are still too many of us to kill before Kitchener comes to save us." He spoke thoughtfully, between puffs of his cigarette, and added: "But of course, if the great English army does not come, and they kill us all, then it will not matter in the least what becomes of our country."

Maurie's assertion did not wholly reassure them. The little Belgian was too bombastic to win their confidence in his judgment. Yet Jones declared that Maurie doubtless knew the country better than anyone they had yet met and the doctor likewise defended his patient. Indeed, Gys seemed to have taken quite a fancy to the little man and long after the others had retired for the night he sat on deck talking with the Belgian and getting his views of the war.

"You say you had land at Ghent?" he once asked.

"It is true, Doctor."

"But afterward you said Brussels."

Maurie was not at all confused.

"Ah; I may have done so. You see, I traded my property."

"And, if I am not mistaken, you spoke of a home at Liege."

Maurie looked at him reproachfully.

"Is there not much land in Belgium?" he demanded; "and is a rich man confined to one home? Liege was my summer home; in the winter I removed to Antwerp."

"You said Ghent."

"Ghent it was, Doctor. Misfortune has dulled my brain. I am not the man I was," he added with a sigh.

"Nevertheless," said Gys, "you still possess the qualities of a good waiter. Whatever happens here, Maurie, you can always go back to America."

CHAPTER VII

ON THE FIRING LINE

Next morning they were all wakened at an early hour by the roar of artillery, dimly heard in the distance. The party aboard the Arabella quickly assembled on deck, where little Maurie was found leaning over the rail.

"They're at it," he remarked, wagging his head. "The Germans are at Nieuport, now, and some of them are over against Pervyse. I hear sounds from Dixmude, too; the rattle of machine guns. It will be a grand battle, this! I wonder if our Albert is there."

"Who is he?" asked Patsy.

"The king. They told me yesterday he had escaped."

"We must get the ambulances out at once," said Beth.

"I'll attend to that," replied Uncle John, partaking of the general excitement. "Warp up to the dock, Captain Carg, and I'll get some of those men to help us swing the cars over the side."

"How about a chauffeur?" asked Dr. Gys, who was already bringing out bandages and supplies for the ambulances.

"If we can't find a man, I'll drive you myself," declared Ajo.

"But you don't know the country."

Gys turned to the little Belgian.

"Can't you find us a driver?" he asked. "We want a steady, competent man to run our ambulance."

"Where are you going?" asked Maurie.

"To the firing line."

"Good. I will drive you myself."