ort of that line has a high upheaval of
debris and broken water suspended over her; it settles as we watch, and
leaves only a wreath of lingering dust over the after part of the ship;
she falls out of line, listing heavily; puffs of steam on her whistle
preface the signal-blasts that indicate the direction from which the
blow was struck. From a point astern of us a ruled line of disturbed
water extends to the torpedoed ship--the settling wake of the missile!
The smack and whine of our bomb-thrower speaks out a second time, joined
by other vessels opening fire.

Events have brought our ship's company quickly to their stations. The
chief officer stands, step on the ladder, awaiting orders. "Right! Lay
aft! Cease fire, unless you have a sure target! Look out for the
destroyers blanking the range!" He runs along, struggling through the
mass of troops. The men are strangely quiet; perhaps the steady beat of
our engines measures out assurance to them--as it does to us. Their
white-haired colonel has come to the bridge, and stands about quietly.
Other officers are pushing along to their stations. There is not more
than subdued and controlled excitement in a low murmur. The men below
crowd up the companionways from the troop-decks. In group and mass, the
ship seems packed to overflowing by a drab khaki swarm; the light on all
faces turned on the one cant, arms pointing in one direction, rouses a
haunting disquiet. However gallant and high of heart, they are standing
on unfamiliar ground--at sea, in a ship, caged! If--

Two destroyers converge on us at frantic speed, tearing through the flat
sea with a froth in their teeth. As the nearest thunders past, her
commander yells a message through his megaphone. We cannot understand.
Busied with manoeuvres of the convoy, with the commodore's signal for
a four-point turn, we miss the hail, and can only take the swing and
wave of his arms as a signal to get ahead--"Go full speed!" The jangle
of the telegraph is still sounding, when we reel to a violent shock. The
ship lists heavily, every plate and frame of her ringing out in clamour
with the impact of a vicious sudden blow. She vibrates in passionate
convulsion on recovery, masts oscillate like the spring of a
whip-shaft, the rigging jars and rattles at the bolts, a crash of broken
glass showers from the bridge to the deck below!

The murmur among the troops swells to a higher note, there is a crowding
mass-movement towards the boats.