he could opposite the door, he pounded frantically at the cracked panel,
and at the third blow it broke away, leaving a jagged hole.

But this was not large enough for him to put his head through--let alone
his body. His one chance was that the key might still be in the lock.

Small blame to him that his heart was going like a trip-hammer as he
dropped the useless grating and snatched up his lamp.

The list was now so heavy that he had to cling to the door, as he thrust
his arm through the gap.

A gasp of relief escaped his lips as his fingers closed on the key. It
turned, but even then the door would not open. It was wedged.

Ken made a last desperate effort, and managed to force it open. As he
clawed his way through into the passage, the sea water came bursting up
through the floor of the bathroom behind him.

Somehow he managed to scramble along the passage, and up the companion to
the mess deck. There was not a soul in sight, and the ship now lay over at
such an angle that every moment it seemed as though she must capsize.

Up another ladder. He was forced to go on hands and feet, clinging like a
squirrel. Then he was on the boat deck, in a glare of white light flung on
the sinking ship by the searchlight of a British cruiser which had rushed
up to the rescue.

The sea seemed thick with boats pulling steadily away, and in every
direction the searchlights of the escorting destroyers wheeled and