Admiral Dorn, still standing beneath the bridge, with both hands
grasping the rail, shivered and drew breath. What might have happened
if----He looked forward. He imagined he could hear the crash, see the
great bow sinking; he could hear the splintering of the bulk-heads,
the screams of the people tumbling up the companionways, the panic and
pandemonium, the mad rush for the boats, the horrid, slow subsidence.
But it was not to be; the danger had gone by!

Now he remembered having heard that first low whistle before the two
that had signaled so plainly: "_I have my helm to starboard--passing
to starboard of you!_" And yet, well did he know that no fires blazed
in those dead furnaces, no steam was coming from that rusty,
salt-incrusted funnel. It was as if the dead had spoken to warn the
living! He shivered once more, and staggered to the bridge-ladder,
holding on and listening.

Three, four, five times did the _Caronia's_ siren wail out into the
stillness. _No reply._ And then the throbbing pulses took up their
beat again.

Down in the corner of the main saloon, filled with chattering people,
romping children, and game-playing young folk, who knew not what had
passed on deck, sat the Silly Ass, the girl close to him.

"I'll never tell," she whispered. "What is it you're thinking of?"

The round eyes gazed into hers. "It's a long time since I did," he
said.