For a while, he does not pick up a little white streak
on the water, not very far away, drawing
rapidly nearer ; A streak like the wake of a shark's fin, cutting along
on the weather bow. He sees it ! Quick, to the signal ! Stop ! Full
speed astern ! Over, there, with the helm !
Too late, too late, captain of ship and lives ;
Away from the little wake springs a broader wake ;
A murderous fish drives straight towards you, churn- ing the water as he goes.
Close compartment doors ! — the last command ;
Then to the end of the bridge, and stand there waiting ;
Press tight the lips, fold the arms on the breast, throw back the head :
Below, along the weather rail, a line of men stands silently, watching death come ;
{Our country calls ! Our country, and our King !)
A whitish object skims on the surface of the blue
sea; The torpedo strikes below the magazine ; The ship is instantly blown in two — she sinks like
lead ; A faint cheer finds no listener but God.
�� �
