s story had been verified. Two men were found to be
missing, although, strange to say, they had not been missed up to the
time that noses were counted. They were down on the ship's roster as
Norwegians, New York registry, and had come down with the Doraine on her
trip from the north.

Percival repeated his story, but had little to add in the way of detail.
He had stolen on deck some time after midnight for a breath of air,
risking detection, and from the shelter of a secluded corner well aft
had heard the two men swabbing the deck below. Suddenly they ceased
work, and he prepared to creep back to a place of safety, concluding
that they were on their way to the upper deck.

He went to the rail to listen. The two men were almost directly below
him, and he could see the upper portions of their figures as they leaned
far out over the rail, apparently looking into the swirling waters
below. Quite distinctly he heard one of them say, in English: "We got
to do it now or never." The other mumbled something he could not
distinguish. He was only mildly interested, not anticipating what was to
follow. For a few seconds he heard them scrambling and puffing and then
he saw them quite plainly on the rail, their figures bulky with what he
identified as life buoys, a faint light from somewhere falling directly
upon the grayish-white objects in which they were swathed.

One of them uttered the word "Now!" and to his amazement they shot out,
as one man, into the black-ness below. There was a single splash. For a
moment or two he stood spell-bound. Then he heard some one running
along the deck below. Convinced that the incident had been witnessed by
others, he darted into the companion-way and made his way back to the
stateroom of the sick passenger. Through the lightless porthole he
listened for the terrifying shout, "Man overboard!" It did not come,
but his ear caught the staccato beat of a motor near by, striking
up abruptly out of the swish of rushing waters. In his ignorance, he
decided that it was a boat from the ship going to the rescue of the
daring deserters, and calmly waited for the engines of the mighty
Doraine to cease their rhythmic pulsing. He fell asleep.

When he awoke, he concluded that he had dreamed the whole thing. This
conclusion was justified when he asked his wretched "bunkie" if he
had observed him leaving the room during the night. The answer was a
mournful negative, followed by the sufferer's more or less pos