On this day, June 30, travelers who had permits to cross to England proceeded towards Hoch Van Holland, where we arrived at seven o’clock in the evening. Five passenger ships awaited us at the wharf. We went on board, but no one knew the hour of departure–not even the ship’s officers, we were told. Saturday night, Sunday, and Sunday night passed and the boats remained there. Not until a radiograph message was received could we leave Holland. Finally the expected message came, and at eleven o’clock on Monday morning we sailed from the mouth of the Meuse River. The convoy of five ships bearing thousands of passengers of all ages and conditions slowly advanced northwards, nursing the side coast of Holland until we reached Sheveningen. At this point we turned to the west and our boats headed towards England. We were barely out of the Dutch waters when, suddenly, a cloud of smoke appeared at the horizon in front of us. What was it? We did not know. This black spot, hardly perceptible, grew bigger and advanced towards us. It was the convoy which left England that morning and was now entering the waters of Holland. What a grand spectacle it was! Twenty-four ships in three lines cut through the waves, each ship vomiting thick black smoke. In the centre, preceded by a daring cruiser, were the seven ships bearing passengers. On either side were eight leviathans of the sea, boats of a particular model. They ploughed the waters in all directions, seeking an enemy whom they would devour! After some seemingly fine disorder there were exchanges of signals, a run to right here, a run to left there–the whole business taking but three minutes–the outlook was clear again. Seven passenger ships were sailing in security along the Dutch coasts, the protecting warships, seventeen in number, had turned back. The majestic convoy proceeding west, and modeled on the one which had just come east, was negotiating the passage of the most dangerous zone in the North Sea. All went well until two o’clock in the afternoon. Then a mine field was signaled. Some of the mines, not completely submerged, could be seen on the surface of the water. They looked like so many soft felt hats. Cruisers and torpedo boats at once came into action. Their marvelous artillery men pointed their guns and fired. A second afterwards a terrific explosion from a mine, accompanied by a column of water shooting up towards the sky, told us that the aim had been accurate. After an hour’s running fire we had crossed the mine field, and were proceeding at good speed towards England, whose lights we saw at about nine o’clock. We were due to arrive at the mouth of the Thames at dusk. From all sides were heard tributes of high admiration for this marvelous service of protection, extending over the world’s seas and maintained unceasingly, without rest or respite, by the intrepid sailors of the British navy!