along day after day without
meeting any danger. At night, all of the lights were put out and the
ship slipped along through the darkness.

On Sunday, after we had been sailing for eight days, we entered the zone
that had been prohibited by the Kaiser. We sailed into it full steam
ahead and nothing happened. That day was February the twenty-fifth. In
the afternoon, I was seated in the lounge with two friends. One was an
American whose name was Kirby; the other was a Canadian and his name was
Dugan. The latter was an aviator in the British army. In fights with
German aeroplanes high over the Western Front he had been wounded and
brought down twice and the army had sent him to his home in Canada to
get well. He was returning once more to the battle front "to stop
another bullet," as he said.

As we talked, I passed around my cigarette case and Dugan held a lighted
match while the three of us lighted our cigarettes from it. As Dugan
blew out the match and placed the burnt end in an ash tray, he laughed
and said,

"They say it is bad luck to light three cigarettes with the same match,
but I think it is good luck for me. I used to do it frequently with my
flying partners in France and four of them have been killed, but I am
still alive."

"That makes it all right for you," said Kirby, "but it makes it look bad
for Gibbons and myself. But nothing is going to happen. I don't believe
in superstitions."

That night after dinner Dugan and I took a brisk walk around the
darkened promenade deck of the _Laconia_. The night was very dark, a
stiff wind was blowing and the _Laconia_ was rolling slightly in the
trough of the waves. Wet from spray, we returned within and in one of
the corridors met the Captain of the ship. I told him that I would like
very much to have a look at his chart and learn our exact location on
the ocean.

He looked at me and laughed because that was a very secret matter. But
he replied:

"Oh, you would, would you?" and his voice carried that particular
British intonation that seemed to say, "Well it is jolly well none of
your business."

Then I asked him when he thought we would land in Liverpool.

"I really don't know," said the ship's commander, and then, with a wink,
he added, "but my steward told me that we would get in Tuesday evening."

Kirby and I went to the smoke room on the boat deck well to the stern of
the ship. We joined a circle of Britishers who were seated in front of a
coal fire in