with passengers pressed shoulder to shoulder at the rail as they stared at us. I was aseat upon my float holding her in my arms; throughout an hour, though she was conscious and had not slept, she had not spoken to me.
"A ship is here," I told her; and she asked, "You must take me aboard; can't you leave me here?"
They sent a boat for us and asked: "What happened to you?"
"Haven't you heard of the Wotan?" I said.
"Heard? Man; the Wotan's been bombed and sunk by airplanes! They bombed her boats, too! It was worse than the Titanic and the Lusitania. . ."
I hugged her to me, trying to stop her ears. So I took her aboard and gave her in charge of a physician.
The air was full of Wotan news. Two thousand passengers were missing. They had gone down with the ship or been in the boats which were bombed—the specks on the sea. Of the twenty airplanes in the raid, eleven had been shot down; of the nine, five had fled pursued and their final fate was yet to be known.
