from the decks of a French mail steamer, torpedoed three days
ago. The passing of the derelict fittings aroused some disquiet, but
the steady routine of our progress and the constant friendly presence of
familiar surroundings has effect in allaying immediate fears. The rounds
of the bridge go on--the writing of the log, the tapping of the glass,
the small measures that mark the passing of our sea-hours. Two days out
from Marseilles--and all well! In another two days we should be
approaching the Canal, and then--to be clear of 'submarine waters' for a
term. Fine weather! A light wind and sea accompany us for the present,
but the filmy glare of the sun, now low, and a backward movement of the
glass foretells a break ere long. We are steaming at high speed to make
the most of the smooth sea. Ahead, on each bow, our two escorting
destroyers conform to the angles of our zigzag--spurring out and
swerving with the peculiar 'thrown-around' movement of their class.
Look-out is alert and in numbers. Added to the watch of the ship's crew,
military signallers are posted; the boats swung outboard have each a
party of troops on guard.

An alarmed cry from aloft--a half-uttered order to the steersman--an
explosion, low down in the bowels of the ship, that sets her reeling in
her stride!

The upthrow comes swiftly on the moment of impact. Hatches, coal,
shattered debris, a huge column of solid water go skyward in a hurtling
mass to fall in torrent on the bridge. Part of a human body strikes the
awning spars and hangs--watch-keepers are borne to the deck by the
weight of water--the steersman falls limply over the wheel with blood
pouring from a gash on his forehead. . . . Then silence for a stunned
half-minute, with only the thrust of the engines marking the heart-beats
of the stricken ship.

Uproar! Most of our men are young recruits: they have been but two days
on the sea. The torpedo has gone hard home at the very weakest hour of
our calculated drill. The troops are at their evening meal when the blow
comes, the explosion killing many outright. We had counted on a
proportion of the troops being on the deck, a steadying number to
balance the sudden rush from below that we foresaw in emergency.
Hurrying from the mess-decks as enjoined, the quick movement gathers way
and intensity: the decks become jammed by the pressure, the gangways and
passages are blocked in the struggle. There is the making of a
panic--tuned by their outcry, "_G