"Never mind, let her have it," I yelled.

Down the hills she rocked and swayed like a drunken thing. If there had happened to be anything in the way--well, I don't know what would have happened; but there would have been "some" mess! Anyway, nothing did happen, and I arrived at the dock in due course. No, the boat had not gone, but by the appearance of every one there, it was just on the point of moving off. To get on to the quay I had to pa.s.s over a swing bridge; a barrier was across it, and soldiers on duty were posted in order to send all cars round, some distance down, over the next bridge. Knowing that if I went there I should be too late, I yelled out to the man to allow me to pa.s.s.

"No, sir," he said. "You must go the other way."

Well, what I said I don't know, but I certainly swore, and this evidently impressed the fellow so much that he removed the barrier and allowed me to pa.s.s. I literally tumbled out of the old "bus," and shouting to L---- to bring along my tripod, I rushed to where the boat was lying against the quay.

All the French, British, and Belgian officials were lined up, and the King was shaking hands as a parting adieu. Whether it was right or not I did not stop to think. I swept by and rushed up the gangway as the King turned with a final salute.

So close a shave was it that I barely had time to screw my camera on the stand ere the Prince of Wales saluted the King and went ash.o.r.e. The gangway was drawn away and, amid salutes from the officers and allied representatives, the boat left the quay. I had filmed it all. Not an incident had pa.s.sed me.

The King with the Admiral in charge of the ship, entered the cabin, and only then did I have a moment's respite to realise what a narrow squeak I had had.

We were just leaving the harbour. The sea looked very choppy, and just ahead were seven torpedo boats waiting to escort us across.

I went up on to the top deck, and obtained some very interesting scenes of these boats taking up their positions around. Then the King came up and mounted the bridge. How happy he looked! A King in every sense of the word. Who, if they could see him now, could ever have any doubts as to the issue of the war? I filmed him as he stood on the bridge. In mid-channel the sea was getting rather rough, and to keep my feet, and at the same time prevent the camera from being bowled overboard, was rather a task, and this compelled me at times to call in the help of some blue-jackets standing near by.

At last the white cliffs of old England hove in sight, and to make my film-story complete I filmed the cliffs, with Dover Castle perched high above like the grim watch-dog it is.

And then, as the boat drew into the harbour, I got near the gangway in order to land first and film His Majesty as he came ash.o.r.e. I managed to do this, and entering the royal special (by which I was permitted to travel) I reached Victoria in due course with what, in my humble judgment, was one of the finest kinematograph records that could possibly be obtained of an altogether memorable and historic journey.

CHAPTER XXI

THE HUSH! HUSH!--A WEIRD AND FEARFUL CREATURE

Something in the Wind--An Urgent Message to Report at Headquarters--And What Came Of It--I Hear for the First Time of the "Hush! Hush!"--And Try to Discover What It Is--A Wonderful Night Scene--Dawn Breaks and Reveals a Marvellous Monster--What Is It?

I had been busy in London preparing the film of the King's visit to his troops in France, when I received an urgent message to report immediately at General Headquarters--most important. I reported to Captain ----.

"Can you get away in the morning, Malins? The boat train leaves early."

"If there is something doing I wouldn't miss it for worlds!" I replied.

"It's quite evident there is," he said, "or they wouldn't want you so urgently."

"I've only got to get my supply of film stock," I said; "I'll manage it during the night somehow, and meet you at Charing Cross in the morning."

No, I certainly was not going to miss a fight, for undoubtedly another offensive was about to take place.

That night I managed to get sufficient film stock together. In the morning we proceeded to France. The following morning at General Headquarters I got the news. Reporting to Colonel ----, he told me of the coming attack. "Do you want to get it?" he said.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE FIRST "TANK" THAT WENT INTO ACTION, H.M.L.S.

"DAPHNE." SEPT. 15, 1916]

"Yes, sir, I do; and from the first line if possible. I want to improve on the Battle of the Somme film. What time does it come off?"

"I don't know; but if you will call on--mentioning a captain at the Headquarters of one of the corps--he will be able to put you right on the section of the attack." With that information I left, and packing my apparatus left for Headquarters. The captain was there.

"You are the 'movie' man, eh? Come in. Now tell me what you want."

"Where is the attack taking place, and at what time?" I asked.

"Look here," he said, unfolding a map, "this is our objective," pointing to a certain place. "We are going to get up to the yellow line, and I suggest that you go to ---- Brigade Headquarters. They are in a wood just below ---- Redoubt. I will ring up the General and tell him you are coming. He will give you all the information and a.s.sistance you require.

They know the ground more intimately than we do back here. You are prepared to stay up there, of course?"

"Of course," I said. "I always carry my blanket with me."

"Well it comes off on the fifteenth, rather early in the morning. The General will give you zero hour."

"Do you know the exact time?" I said. "Do you think it will be too early for me--so far as the light is concerned?" I added hurriedly, with a laugh.

"Well no. I think you will just manage it," he said.

Thanking him I hurried off to Brigade Headquarters. They were in an old German dug-out of huge dimensions. There were three distinct floors or rather corridors, one above the other. The galleries wound in and around the hill-side, and the bottom one must have been at the depth of eighty feet. Scottish troops were in the trenches, which were being held as support lines. I entered the dug-out, and around a long table was seated the General and his staff.

"General ----, sir?" I enquired.

"Yes," he said; "come in, will you? You are 'Movies,' aren't you? They have just rung me up. Have some lunch and tell me what you want."

During lunch I explained my mission.

"Well," he said, "I am glad you are giving us a show. There is no need to tell you what the Scottish battalion have accomplished."

Lunch finished, the General with the Brigadier-Major went into details as to the best position from which I could see the show.

"I want, if possible, to get an un.o.bstructed view of the Brigade front."

"'---- Trench,' is the place," he said. "What do you say? you know it."

"I think, sir, that's as good as anywhere, but it's strafed rather badly."

"How far is that from the Bosche front line?"

We measured it on the map. It was eight hundred yards.

"Too far off; I must get much closer," I said. "Isn't there a place in our front trench?"

"There's a machine-gun position in a sap head," said an officer. "I am sure that would suit you, but you'll get strafed. Bosche cannot fail to see you."

"What time is zero hour?" I asked the General.

"At 6.20," he said.

Great Scott, I thought, 6.20 summer time--real time 5.20, and in September only one chance in a million that the sky would be clear enough to get an exposure. Certainly if the mornings were anything like they had been during the last week it would be an absolute impossibility.