"Well, we're on the water; if we were in it, we all might wish to be
fish--or rather whales."
The next moment all was confusion. Faces that were white became red--
those that were red turned white--even through the colour that art
had given to niggardly nature. Fully half the occupants of the saloon
were thrown violently to the floor in a promiscuous heap. Others
saved themselves from falling by grasping frantically at the nearest
object. Many of the lights went out. Some of the women swooned, while
men who had deemed themselves brave shook like palsied creatures.
A man half ran, half fell, down the stairway that led into the saloon
and stood before the affrighted passengers. No tongue could form a
question, but each eager face asked,
"What is it? What has happened?"
His voice came, thin and husky, "We've been struck by another ship in
the fog!"
At sea, at night, and that a night of winter chill--and the fog! Such
the thought. The fact--ten thousand tons of steel and wood, the
product of man's industry, fashioned by his brain, and blood, and
bone, crushed and useless, and half a thousand human beings--looking
forward to years of happiness--doomed to a terrific struggle with the
elements. Strong, courageous, creative man--now a weak, fear-
stricken, helpless creature!
"_To the boats!_" came the cry from above, and it was echoed by
hundreds of voices.
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