ire. A hit will be sheer murder. It is a problem! We return
to the deck and make three figures of that ninety miles.

The pulse of the ship beats high in the thrust and tremor of the
engines, now opened out to their utmost speed; the clean-cut bow wave
breaks well aft, shewing level and unhindered progress. In the calm
weather, the whirl of our black smoke hangs low astern, joining the sea
and sky in a dense curtain; we are prompted by it to a wish for misty
weather when day breaks--to make a good screen to our progress. Though
dark, the night is clear. A weak moon stands in the east, shedding
sufficient light to brighten the lift. We overhaul some west-bound
vessels in our passage and warn them by signal. Two have already taken
Bermuda's message and are alert, but one has no wireless, and is heading
up across our course. We speak her; her lights go out quickly, and she
turns south after us.

Daybreak comes with the thin vapours of settled weather that may turn to
a helpful haze under the warm sun. We zigzag in a wide S from the first
grey half-light, for we are now due south of the Lightship. In the
smooth glassy surface of the sea we have an aid to our best defence--the
measure of our eyes. We note a novel vigilance in the watchkeepers, a
suppressed anxiety that was not ours in the infinitely more dangerous
waters of the channels. The unusual circumstance of zigzagging and
straining look-out for a periscope almost in American waters has gripped
us. Every speck of flotsam is scanned in apprehension. The far-thrown
curl of our displacement spitting on the eddy of the zigzag, throws up a
feather that calls for frequent scrutiny. We have no lack of unofficial
assistance in our look-out. From early morning, the passengers are
astir--each one entrammelled in a life-jacket that reminds them
continually of danger. For the children, it is a new game--a source of
merriment--but their elders are gravely concerned. Gazing constantly
outboard and around, they add eyes to our muster. Every hour that passes
without event seems to increase the tension; the size and numbers of
enemy vessels grow with the day. A telegraph-cable ship at work is
hailed as 'a raider in sight'--a Boston sea-tug, towing barges south, is
taken for a supply-ship with submarines in tow.

The wireless operator reports from time to time. The 'humming bird'
(whoever he is) has ceased jamming. The air is full of call and
counter-call. Halifax is working with an