We also heard
that a submarine had been in the port the day before and had tried to
torpedo the ships lying there--but had missed.
We cantered on, pressing along a stony road which was almost level with
the salt marshes on either side. San Giovanni appeared after about an
hour and a half. We rode down on to the beach. The motor-boat was
getting up anchor. We yelled to the skipper, but he understood no Serb;
so we translated through a Turk who was lounging about. The skipper said
that he could not embark us there as it was Montenegrin territory, but
that if we would go back to Alessio he would wait for us at the mouth of
the river and take us down that very night. This seemed too good to be
true and we hurried back, passing an Austrian torpedo which had run up
on the brown sand--a present from yesterday's raid. We turned the others
and cantered ahead to get a boat; reached the bridge once more and
crossed into Albania. Officials ran from all sides to stop us, but we
ignored them, dismounted, and ran to the side of the river where boats
were loading, overloading with passengers.
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