occupied, a few of the men reading while the rest were either seated at the tables, playing poker, or standing round watching the play.

At the same hour a little party of the ship’s officers who were off duty, of whom Dick Cavendish was one, were gathered in the ward-room, engaged in the conduct of an informal smoking-concert, and Dick was standing at the piano warbling “Dear Heart” to the doctor’s accompaniment—it is no longer the fashion for sailors to sing sea-songs—when the proceedings were abruptly interrupted by a jolt—it was scarcely severe enough to merit the term “shock”—instantly followed by a perceptible lifting of the ship’s bows and a slight list of her to starboard, while to her smooth, steady, gliding progress succeeded a rapid succession of jerks, accompanied by a sound of rending, distinctly audible in the ward-room in the dead silence that suddenly fell upon the party. Then the bows of the ship were felt to dip and her stern to rise, while her speed slackened so abruptly that those who were standing only retained their footing with difficulty; a final jar, succeeded by a crash, came, and the ship once more settled to her bearings, floating smoothly and tranquilly as before.

By this time the occupants of the ward-room were all upon their feet, staring at one another, speechless, with horrified eyes. But as the stern of the ship settled and she again came to her bearings, Mr Brown, the chief officer, who was one of the party, exclaimed:

“Ice—by the Living Jingo!—and we’ve hit it! More than that she’s torn the bottom off herself, unless I’m very greatly mistaken; and in another minute there’ll be the deuce and all to pay—a panic, as likely as not. To your stations, gentlemen, and remember—the first thing to be done is to keep the boat deck clear. Come on!” And he led the way up the companion-ladder to the deck.

As Dick emerged into the open air, the first thing of which he became conscious was a distinctly keener edge of chill in the atmosphere; next, that the ship’s engines had stopped; and third, that the second-class passengers were swarming out of their quarters like angry bees, each demanding of the other to be told what had happened. They were evidently heading with one accord for the promenade deck, doubtless en route for the boat deck; and Dick only reached the foot of the ladder in the nick of time to meet the rush of the foremost.

“Hillo!” he cried, good-humouredly, planting himself square in front of the ladder. “Whither away, good people? No, no; that is the first-class quarters; you know that you have no right on the promenade deck. Keep to your own part of the ship, please.”

The crowd checked at the cool authoritativeness of Dick’s tones; but a big, burly man elbowed his way through the crush until he came face to face with the young officer.

“Out of the way, youngster,” he shouted. “Who are you, to talk of ‘right’ at a time like this? The ship is on the rocks and sinking, and—”

“Oh, my dear good man,” interrupted Dick, wearily. “You make me tired. Why do you start talking about things of which you know nothing, and try to frighten your fellow passengers? You are the sort of chap who yells blue murder if the lights in a picture theatre go out before you think they ought, and starts a panic in which a lot of women and children get badly hurt. Rocks! Why, we’re hundreds of miles from the nearest land. And as to the ship sinking, don’t you know that she’s unsinkable—that she can’t sink? The fact is that we’ve hit a bit of ice in the darkness, and all the bumping that you felt was just the ice being broken up by the ship as she ran past it. Now, take my advice, all of you; go back to your cabins and turn in, or some of you will be catching bad colds. Where are the parents of those children in night-dresses? Whoever they are, they ought to be ashamed of themselves for bringing the poor little kiddies into the cold in that rig! Take ’em below and put ’em to bed again, there’s good people. And go to bed yourselves; it’s the most comfortable place in the ship on a night like this. I wish I had the chance to go there.”

Dick’s one idea in talking had been to subdue the tendency towards panic which he had observed in the crowd before him, and to a certain extent he had succeeded. That is to say, the parents of the children in nightgowns had sheepishly herded their flock back into the deck-house, while a few of the other passengers had followed them. But the majority still lingered, waiting perhaps to hear further particulars. And these the big, burly man—who, from his somewhat “loud” costume, might be taken for a pugilist or a doubtful frequenter of race courses—seemed determined to have. Dick’s sarcasm had produced no more effect upon him than rain does upon a duck, and he still stood staring aggressively at the young officer.

“That’s all very well,” he declared truculently; “but if there’s no danger, what are all them sailors so busy about the boats up there for?”

The boat deck was by this time a scene of feverish but orderly activity, every available seaman being mustered there, busily engaged, under the supervision of the chief and second officers, on the task of stripping the boats of their canvas, casting them loose, hoisting them out of their chocks, and swinging them outboard ready for lowering.

“Why, you chump,” answered Dick, “they are doing that for the express purpose of reassuring people like yourself, who always go badly scared if they get half a chance. Besides, it is one of the standing orders of the ship, and gives the men a bit of exercise in handling the boats. They will hang there for a bit, and then they will be swung inboard and stowed again. Now,—please go back to your cabins, all of you, and make yourselves comfortable. Or, if you don’t care to do that—if you are determined to hang about out here on deck in the cold, at least go and put some warm clothes on. For I tell you candidly that it may be an hour or more before those boats are swung in and stowed.”

“All right!” returned Dick’s opponent, “I’ll stay where I am until that’s done, and chance it. I’d rather have a cold than be drowned in my cabin, like a rat in a trap.”

“Very well,” retorted Dick. “Do as you please, by all means. It’s your look-out, not mine. Only you are setting a very bad example to the others. And by this time to-morrow you will all be sorry that you did not take my advice.”

Meanwhile, from where Dick stood, at the foot of the ladder leading to the promenade deck, he could hear the purser up there suavely assuring a crowd of first-class passengers that there was not the slightest occasion for alarm, that the boats were merely being swung out as a precautionary measure always adopted in such cases, and that if they would kindly retire to the dining-saloon they would find a hot supper awaiting them which he had taken it upon himself to order, just to fortify his charges against any possible ill effects from the cold to which they were so foolishly exposing themselves. And while he spoke, the purser was busily but very politely shepherding the promenade deck crowd toward the doorway giving access to the dining-saloon.

But above the suavely jocular accents of the purser’s voice Dick’s quick ears caught other and more sinister sounds, to wit, the persistent crackling of the ship’s wireless installation, and he very shrewdly suspected that that meant something much more serious and important than “Sparks” swapping good-nights with some other operator—that, in short, it meant nothing less than that most urgent of all wireless calls, the S.O.S. of a ship in dire distress summoning other ships to her aid. Further than that, although the work of preparing the boats for lowering was proceeding in a perfectly quiet and orderly manner, Dick was conscious, even above the roar of escaping steam, of a strenuous haste in the movements of