Just as they were landed
on the opposite bank the rope broke. So all the Montenegrins and
Albanians who were working the ferry went off to a midday meal, leaving
the two with the pangs of hunger growling within, sitting on the bank.
After two hours' waiting the rope was repaired, and they got back to
lunch famishing. We then arranged sleeping places and locked up all the
baggage in an empty shop. Our room was one of those ordinary Montenegrin
bedrooms plastered with pictures. Amongst them was a postcard, and on it
was printed large in English in blue crystalline letters, "Never
Again."
Whence did it come, this enigmatic postcard, and what did it mean? It
seemed almost a solemn warning; yet in a hotel bedroom. What did the
hostess think it meant?
"Never Again."
Some of the men came in cheering, having found Turkish delight in one of
the shops. We were sadly needing sugar, as our last tin had been stolen
along with lots of other things. So we indulged in "Turkish" not wisely.
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