There was not enough time. Everyone stamped in the mud. With
the completely washed out Serbian uniforms mixed the
brilliant colors of those of the Montenegrin guard. Seated
on a stone, King Nicholas sat stoically in the falling rain,
awaiting the arrival of the Italian torpedo boat that was
to place itself under his orders. Soldiers from the French
mission arrived and did police duty. The radio-operators
from the Italian post arrived and put their baggage on
board. An officer of the Serbian Army was there with all the
state archives. A crowd of people instinctively pressed
towards us and got mixed up with the soldiers who were
supposed to keep order. In spite of the tempest which
thwarted everything, we managed to embark eighteen .75 guns
and three 100 howitzers, as well as a hundred cases of
projectiles. The weather grew more dreadful, with hail
stones in the icy rain. Blows were necessary to prevent the
crowding aboard of that mob of people whom neither shouts
nor threats could stop. We allowed as many as possible to
embark--about a hundred on the _Petrel_ and twice as many
with us--Serbs, Montenegrins and Allies, of all classes and
conditions, and, despairingly we shoved off to stop the
crowd that remained.
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