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CHAPTER XXV
in spain and in exile
My journey from Stockholm to Madrid was performed
under conditions unavoidable in a World-War. At
Bergen I had to submit to an enforced halt of a few days
to wait for the English boat in which we were to cross
the North Sea, and of which the day and hour of
departure were kept strictly secret, on account of
German submarines. At last the old Vulture, dirty and
packed with passengers, started, escorted by two fine
British destroyers which awaited her outside Norwegian
waters.
On board I met a few French Socialist
parliamentarians who had been visiting Russia with M. Albert
Thomas; I had made their acquaintance when they
passed through Stockholm on their way to my country.1
At that time they were loudly proclaiming their intention
to talk sense to our extreme Socialists and especially to
fight the propaganda of the Bolsheviks. I was
somewhat disagreeably surprised to find that on their return
from their mission to Russia they appeared to be
upholding the Soviets. The head of the mission, M. Albert
Thomas, had gone on board a French destroyer at
Bergen.
Towards the end of the crossing a thick fog enveloped
the sea, and we were suddenly stopped; signals were
exchanged between us and our escort; we started again,
but when the fog lifted it was discovered that we were
not going into Aberdeen but into Peterhead, a small
1 This was M. Albert Thomas’s second journey, the one that had such
an indifferent influence on our internal situation.
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