Midnight had passed and the thirteenth of August was beginning to break. The sea was as calm as oil, the boat glided smoothly cleaving the water with its broad keel and from afar we heard the voices of the white foamy waves chasing one another. The sky was full of falling stars which furrowed the upper darkness and left behind them luminous tracks; iridescent crests fell like flashes of lightning, dimming suddenly the light of the other stars which trembled tranquilly. Overhead it seemed as if there was a wonderful display of fireworks. The curved shore was now lost in the depth of the night. Along the shore occasional searchlights gleamed, outlining huge semicircles over the water, and whenever their light struck us Italo stopped rowing and we all crouched in the bottom of the boat so as not to be seen. Along the bank the first fireworks began to ascend and their trembling sparks fell back slowly and were extinguished in the water. Afar off towards the west many searchlights scrutinized the sky and their yellow rays intersected on the starry vault. We rowed for several hours. Angelin, rocked by the gentle motion of the boat, rested his head on my knees and was sleeping peacefully. We could not see the beach any longer and to get our bearings we followed the line of the fireworks and the milky way which goes from east to west. Suddenly we heard a strange noise near the boat. This was followed by splashes, gliding rustles; at times it seemed as if something were following us. We were frightened; for a moment we believed we were near a submarine; we anxiously expected to see a periscope rise up near us, but finally the glidings approached us and we noticed several foamy dolphins splashing gaily about us. Surely they were Italian dolphins which had come to welcome us, though at first we did not understand, we did not appreciate them. Dawn rose slowly in the east, the stars faded above the silvery water and a grayish gleam tinged with pink spread over the sky. We did not know whether we had passed the line of the Piave. The fireworks continued to shoot up regularly in the early morning light. We now had to turn our prow towards the shore, even if it be an enemy shore, because anything would be preferable to being seized by the motor-boats which would soon begin cruising. If we landed in enemy territory we should have to try and hide our boat and attempt the feat another night. Italo rowed with powerful strokes and the boat glided swiftly over the calm waves. Again we saw land and it looked like a thin narrow line of violet; its outline became clearer, more definite as we approached. The light was still dim and we were almost on shore. A wagon to which two oxen were hitched passed slowly along the beach and the curved horns of the meek animals were outlined against the grayish sky. “Halt! Who goes there, who are you?” “We are Italians, we are Italians.” On the shore there appeared the figure of a sailor dressed in white.