We reached the cross-roads, near Alessio, at 6 p.m., and much regretted that the darkness hid from us the ideally beautiful little town, built picturesquely on the mountain-side by the swift River Drin. The town was only distinguishable by the lights in the houses, and by the eternal camp fires on the mountain, on the other side of the bridge. The girls, and the men too, were exhausted, and would have liked to halt for the night, but the possibility of that walk to Durazzo, gave me courage to be hard, and we pressed on, leaving Alessio on our left. Once or twice, murmurs of "Can't go any further" were audible, but I pretended not to hear; we could not be beaten on the last lap. Would the lights of San Giovanni de Medua never come in view, and what should we find when we arrived? The last stretch of road seemed interminable. On our right were the usual bare and rocky mountains, and caves, and between them and our road, a narrow belt of grass, on which soldiers and refugees were camped. And then, at last, we saw ahead of us, lights--of Medua? And to the left of this, apart, a collection of lights like those from the cabins of a big vessel, and above, were those the mast-head signal lights? Then, thank God, this was the harbour, and this was a boat to take us home. But look! Was it only we who were moving? Or--no--there was no doubt, the huge vessel was slowly gliding out of the harbour, and making for the open sea. We were just too late. CHAPTER XLV It was 8.30 p.m. when we marched into Medua. We were not allowed to take the ponies through the village, which was crowded with soldiers and refugees, and amongst these we had to jostle our way. I left the party, and the ponies, and went to find Admiral Trowbridge, who was in charge of the port. I found him sitting at a table in a tiny room, about five feet square, in a cottage on the quay. I sent in my name, and when I entered the room he said: "Good God! Mrs. Stobart, why are you so late? I have been expecting you all day. The last British boat has just gone." I explained that the Germans had a trick of dropping bombs on parties who were starting to catch boats, and that Albanian peasants didn't always play the game, etc. But here we were now, and what should we do? "Well," he said, "there is a small Italian boat, already overcrowded, leaving to-night, in half an hour's time, and I have been spending a very uncomfortable day telling 3,000 people that I can't find them room on a boat which only holds 300. But, of course, you shall have places." He then amused me, for he warned me that travelling by this boat involved grave risks; to-day, all day long, submarines from below, and bombs from Taubes above, had been trying to destroy her, and had fallen within five yards of her. Medua had also been attacked, and all the Admiral's windows were smashed. The sea outside the harbour was thick with submarines, and----. "But is there any alternative way of getting home?" "No. This is probably the last