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I loosened it and then got tangled up in it. Suddenly there was a roaring swish as a rocket soared upward cat the captain's bridge, leaving a comet's tail of fire. Seeking to establish some authority in our boat, I made my way to the stern and there found an old, white-haired sea captain, a second-cabin passenger, with whom I had talked before.

This group had about exhausted available discussion when I projected a new bone of contention. It is now a little over thirty hours since I stood on the slanting decks of the big liner, listened to the lowering of the lifeboats, and heard the hiss of escaping steam and the roar of ascending rockets as they tore lurid rents in the black sky and cast their red glare over the roaring sea.

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Besides being frightened, the man was freezing in the thin cotton shirt that composed his entire upper covering. The vessel lzconia in about forty minutes. Irvine, the ship's commander, I had mentioned that I would like to see a chart and note our position on the ocean. The torpedo had struck at P. A score of hands roojs out, and we were suspended in the husky, tattooed arms of those doughty British jack tars, looking up into the weather-beaten, youthful faces, mumbling thanks and thankfulness, and reading in the gold lettering on their pancake hats the legend "H.

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The boats remained quite close together at first. The question being asked of the Americans on all sides is: "Is it the casus belli? The scenes of reunion were heart-gripping. The occupants of the lounge were just leaving by the forward doors as we entered. The first cabin passengers were gathered in the lounge Sunday evening, with the exception of the bridge fiends cchat the smoke-room.

I feared every minute that oroms in our boat might make a hostile move, fire a revolver, or throw something at the submarine. The wind was cold and seemed to be rising.

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I saw the chief steward opening an electric switch box in the wall and turning on the switch. The weather was a great factor. The story caused a cyat when it appeared in metropolitan dailies throughout the country. We pulled him over the side. She had over two hundred in the crew.

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There were a of women, but only one appeared hysterical - little Miss Titsie Siklosi, a French-Polish actress, who was being cared for by her manager, Cedric P. The injured - all minor cases, sprained backs, wrenched legs, or mashed hands - were put away in bunks under the care of the ship's doctor.

He replied: "Oh, would you? Already the boat was loading up and men were busy with the ropes. According to our ship's time, it was thirty minutes after that hour that another dull thud, which was accompanied by a noticeable drop in the hulk, told its story of the second torpedo that the submarine had dispatched through the engine room and the boat's vitals from a distance of yards.

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Then I made my way to the upper deck on that same dark landing. Then came the five blasts on the whistle.

It was listing to starboard at just the angle that would make it necessary to reach for support to enable one to stand upright. Irvine, but my steward told me later it would be Tuesday after dinner. A hatchet was thrust into my hand and I forwarded it to the bow. It was the give-way of nerve tension. Men who had remained strangers to one another aboard the Laconia wrung each other by the hand, or embraced without shame the frail little wife of a Canadian chaplain who had found one of her missing children delivered up from another boat.

Then we stopped with another jerk and remained suspended in mid-air while the man at the bow and the stern swore and tussled with the lowering ropes. The pulleys twice stuck in their fastenings, bow and stern, and the one axe passed forward and back, and with it my flashlight, as the entangling ropes that held us to the sinking Laconia were cut away.

Then a nodding of that finger of light - a happy, snapping, crapshooting finger that seemed to say "Come on, you men," like a dice player wooing the bones - led us to believe that our lights had been seen. There was a tangle of oars, spars, and rigging on the seat and considerable confusion before four of the big sweeps could be manned on either side of the boat.

Every swell rode clear over us and we had to hold our breath until we came to the surface again.

The latest information from Bantry, the only other port at which survivors were known to have landed, confirms the report of the death of Mrs. You will have to register before you can post: click the register link above to proceed.

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But dream or fact, here it is: The Cunard liner Laconia, 18, tons burden, carrying seventy-three passengers - men, women, and children - of whom six were American citizens - manned by a mixed crew of two hundred and sixteen, bound from New York to Liverpool, and loaded with foodstuffs, cotton, and war material, was torpedoed without warning by a German submarine last night off the Irish coast.

Boat No. The journalist cyat ; some 10 romos before his fateful voyage. He hung heavily over our arms, grotesquely grasping all he had saved from his stateroom - a goldheaded cane and an extra hat. A hand slipped into mine and a voice sounded huskily close to my ear. His name is Captain Dear.

But we were far from being off. As the lowering continued, the other side dropped down and we found ourselves clinging on at a new angle and looking straight down on the water. The cold water just takes the strength out of you. Hoy and her daughter were sitting toward the stern. This was the fact, for immediately the coming vessel flashed on its green and red sidelights and we saw it was headed for our position.

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There was a tilt to the deck. Before the fireplace was a little gathering which had been dubbed as the Hyde Park cht - an allusion I don't quite fully understand. Then it slid silently down and out of sight like a piece of disappearing scenery in a panorama spectacle. We pulled up at a dock lined with waiting ambulances and khaki-clad men, who directed the survivors to the various hotels lacoina the town, where they are being quartered.

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