his feet.

"We're hit," shouted Mr. Chetham.

"That's what we've been waiting for," said Mr. Jerome.

"What a lousy torpedo!" said Mr. Kirby. "It must have been a fizzer."

I looked at my watch; it was 10:30.

Five sharp blasts sounded on the _Laconia's_ whistle. Since that night,
I have often marvelled at the quick coordination of mind and hand that
belonged to the man on the bridge who pulled that whistle rope. Those
five blasts constituted the signal to abandon the ship. Every one
recognised them.

We walked hurriedly down the corridor leading from the smoke room in the
stern to the lounge which was amidships. We moved fast but there was no
crowding and no panic. Passing the open door of the gymnasium, I became
aware of the list of the vessel. The floor of the gymnasium slanted down
on the starboard side and a medicine ball and dozens of dumb bells and
Indian clubs were rolling in that direction.

We entered the lounge--a large drawing room furnished with green
upholstered chairs and divans and small tables on which the after-dinner
liqueur glasses still rested. In one corner was a grand piano with the
top elevated. In the centre of the slanting floor of the saloon was a
cabinet Victrola and from its mahogany bowels there poured the last and
dying strains of "Poor Butterfly."

The women and several men who had been in the lounge were hurriedly
leaving by the forward door as we entered. We followed them through. The
twin winding stairs leading below decks by the forward hatch were dark
and I brought into play a pocket flashlight shaped like a fountain pen.
I had purchased it before sailing in view of such an emergency and I
had always carried it fastened with a clip in an upper vest pocket.

My stateroom was B 19 on the promenade deck, one deck below the deck on
which was located the smoke room, the lounge and the life-boats. The
corridor was dimly lighted and the floor had a more perceptible slant as
I darted into my stateroom, which was on the starboard and sinking side
of the ship. I hurriedly put on a light non-sink garment constructed
like a vest, which I had come provided with, and then donned an
overcoat.

Responding to the list of the ship, the wardrobe door swung open and
crashed against the wall. My typewriter slid off the dressing table and
a shower of toilet articles pitched from their places on the washstand.
I grabbed the ship's life-preserver in my left hand and, with the
flashlight in my ri