I fought me way to me bunk. Over it I'd nailed the picture. I felt with me hands until I found it. I tore it off the wall and stuffed it in me shirt, then I started out. The water was clean up to me waist and pourin' in. The force of it sent the chairs and tables crashin' against the wall. I dodged them and found the stairs. They were submerged. It's on me hands and knees I crawled, until I reached the top. The water poured in on me.
I found the deck deserted. I looked down. A few boats were bobbin' on the waves. I dived off. When I came up it did me eyes good to see a boat a few yards away. I swam toward it and they pulled me in. A seaman named Doyle and another called Hooper were good strokes. They rowed all eighteen of us away out when the cruiser went down.
About a hundred yards from us was a boat full of our officers. It was decidin' to follow them we were, when the submarine came to surface again. She was after knowin' which boat held officers, too—no doubt about that, because she trained her machine gun on the lot of them without wastin' time, and opened fire. Yes, by God! shootin' on men adrift in a lifeboat!
That's a sample of Hun fightin' I won't forget in a hurry! I'd have given me life and that of all me dear ones just then for a chance to cut the throats of those cool devils on her deck, pumpin' death into that boat load of helpless youngsters. . . .
We expected to get it next and it's ready for them we were. I hoped with all me heart and soul that they'd come close enough to hear the names I was callin' them. But they didn't honor us—not them. They figured that we were all enlisted men, not worth wastin' a shot on, for they submerged.
It was growin' dark, but there was still light enough for us to take stock of our fodder. All lifeboats are well equipped—provided with ten gallon barrels of water, and with tins of bacon and crackers. It's glad to find the food and water we were. The chances were pretty fair of our bein' rescued in a day or two. That was good, seein' we hadn't a compass and most of us was green. We couldn't even pick the stars and none of us knew seamanship.
We could do nothin' but wait until mornin' and pray for the sight of a sail. Mornin' came. We were stiff, 'part from wet clothes and 'part from the hard boards on which we'd been lyin'.
There were four boys aboard—just kids, not more than eighteen or nineteen. It's game they were, all right. They were the life of that gang. It's "Cheer up, they'll find us to-day," they'd tell us.
One of them was bubblin' over with spirits. He was a big, blond kid called Terry. He was one of the gun's crew and I'd liked him from the start. He appointed himself C. P. O. in charge of the chow and dished out the crackers and bacon to us, jokin' about our table de hôte and sayin' he'd try to do better next meal.
Some of the older men aboard shook their heads over the way we was eatin'.