t in such an absolutely azure funk as that old chap. Pull
yourself together."

Of what followed immediately I have no recollection. I knew vaguely
that the ship rolled and had a serious list to starboard, that orders
were being hoarsely shouted from the bridge, that the moon was shining
fitfully, that the sea was black and choppy; I also seemed to catch
the singing of a hymn somewhere on the forward deck. I suppose I knew
that I existed. But that was all. I had no exact knowledge of what I
myself was doing. There was a hiatus in my consciousness of myself.

The proof of this is that, after a lapse of time, I suddenly
discovered that I had smoked half-way through a cigarette, and that I
was at the bows of the steamer. For a million sovereigns I could not
explain under what circumstances I had moved from one end of the ship
to the other, nor how I had come to light that cigarette. Such is the
curious effect of perturbation.

But the perturbation had now passed from me, just as mysteriously as
it had overtaken me. I was cool and calm. I felt inquisitive, and I
asked several people what had happened. But none seemed to know. In
fact, they scarcely heard me, and answered wildly, as if in delirium.
It seemed strange that anything could have occurred on so small a
vessel without the precise details being common property. Yet so it
was, and those who have been in an accident at sea will support me
when I say that the ignorance on the part of the passengers of the
events actually in progress is not the least astounding nor the least
disconcerting item in such an affair. It was the psychology of the
railway accident repeated.

I began to observe. The weather was a little murky, but beyond doubt
still improving. The lights of the French coast could clearly be seen.
The ship rolled in a short sea; her engines had stopped; she still had
the formidable list to starboard; the captain was on the bridge,
leaning over, and with his hands round his mouth was giving orders to
an officer below. The sailors were still struggling to lower the boat
from the davits. The passengers stood about, aimless, perhaps
terror-struck, but now for the most part quiet and self-contained.
Some of them had life-belts. That was the sum of my observations.

A rocket streamed upwards into the sky, and another and another, then
one caught the rigging, and, deflected, whizzed down again within a
few feet of my head, and dropped on deck, spluttering in a sill