“You are cured, aren’t you, Kay?”

“Yes.”

She repeated in a curiously exultant voice:  “You are cured.  All of a sudden—­after that black crisis, too, you wake up, well!”

“You woke me.”

“Of course, I did—­with those guns frightening me!”

“You woke me, Eve,” he repeated coolly, “and my dream had already cured me.  I am perfectly well.  We’ll get out of this mess shortly, you and I. And—­and then—­“He paused so long that she looked up at him in the bluish dusk: 

“And what then?” she asked.

He did not answer.  She said:  “Tell me, Kay.”

But as his lips unclosed to speak a terrific shock shook the saloon—­a shock that seemed to come from the depths of the ship, tilt up the cabin floor, and send everybody reeling about.

Through the momentary confusion in the bluish obscurity the cool voice of an officer sounded unalarmed, giving orders.  There was no panic.  The hospital units formed and started for the deck.  A young officer passing near exchanged a calm word with McKay, and passed on speaking pleasantly to the women who were now moving forward.

McKay said to Miss Erith:  “It seems that we’ve been torpedoed.  We’ll go on deck together.  You know your boat and station?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll see you safely there.  You’re not afraid any more, are you?”

“No.”

He gave a short dry laugh.  “What a rotten deal,” he said.  “My dream was—­different....  There is your boat—­that one!...  I’ll say good luck.  I’m assigned to a station on the port side. ...  Good luck....  And thank you, Eve.”

“Don’t go—­”

“Yes, I must..  We’ll find each other—­ashore—­or somewhere.”

“Kay!  The port boats can’t be launched—­”

“Take your place! you’re next, Eve."...  Her hand, which had clung to his, he suddenly twisted up, and touched the convulsively tightening fingers with his lips.

“Good luck, dear,” he said gaily.  And watched her go and take her place.  Then he lifted his cap, as she turned and looked for him, and sauntered off to where his boat and station should have been had not the U-boat shells annihilated boat and rail and deck.

“What a devil of a mess!” he said to a petty officer near him.  A young doctor smoking a cigarette surveyed his own life-suit and the clumsy apparel of his neighbours with unfeigned curiosity!

“How long do these things keep one afloat?” he inquired.

“Long enough to freeze solid,” replied an ambulance driver.

“Did we get the Hun?” asked McKay of the petty officer.

“Naw,” he replied in disgust, “but the destroyers ought to nail him.  Look out, sir—­you’ll go sliding down that slippery toboggan!”

“How long’ll she float?” asked the young ambulance driver.

“This ship?  She’s all right,” remarked the petty officer absently.