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CHAPTER XV
V/A GHENT AND BRUGES TO OSTEND
DURING the time I stayed at Antwerp news kept
reaching us almost daily of the rapidity with which
the Germans were approaching the sea. " Ghent
is taken," " Bruges is taken," and finally, " To-day our troops
have entered Ostend." On my return to Brussels it looked as
if the Allies were going to do their utmost to drive the Germans
out of Ostend, and a rumour was in circulation that the
British had bombarded the town.
Accompanied by the ever-charming and delightful Consul
Petri and his Belgian friend, who took charge of the steering
wheel, I proceeded on October 20th to Ostend, equipped with
a special pass from the Governor-General. The weather was
dull and rainy and dark curtains of heavy clouds hung over
the bleak landscape. We drove through avenues of elms along
a road paved with Swedish granite, so it might be said that we
were travelling on Swedish, Belgian and German ground.
Every inch of the country is cultivated or built upon, nothing
but houses and farms, hop-fields, corn-fields and kitchen
gardens. The draught dogs are very busy, since the war has
taken all the horses. One sees remarkably few German uni-
forms, but a good many natives walking along under their
umbrellas. As in Malines, the people wear wooden shoes,
and we still come across great numbers of returning fugitives.
At Alost we cross the Dendre by a bridge. Here we find
numerous marks of shell fire. At Ouaterecht many houses
have been destroyed. From Melle the road is lined with an
uninterrupted string of nurseries and flower gardens. Horti-
culture has here reached a high pitch of perfection and potted
plants are exported to the United States tö the tune of millions.
In Ghent nothing has been destroyed. The town retains its
customary appearance. The tramcars are running, all shops
are open and there are crowds of people about in spite of the
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