"I call upon every one of you, my fellow-passengers, to testify to the utter lack of precaution taken by the men in charge of that ship.

And what effort are they making to bring help to us now?
By gad, if I was in command of that vessel I'd be shooting wireless calls to every--Great Scott! What's that ?" "That's a rocket, you blamed old fool!" roared the steward.
"Good God!" gasped the exasperated banker.

"Are we having a celebration with fireworks ?" The dull, hapless occupants of the lifeboats watched with fascinated eyes the first of the giant rockets that whizzed and roared its way up from the deck of the ship, an endless arrow of fire piercing the night.
A loud report, the scattering of a hundred stars, and then--denser blackness than before.
Morning came.

Up out of the east stole a sickly grey.

It turned slowly into pink, and then suddenly the sea once more was blue and smiling.
In the heart of the dancing cordon lay the weirdly camouflaged Doraine, inert, sinister, as still and cold as death.