As the boat's crew steadied its head into the wind, a black hulk, glistening wet and standing about eight feet above the surface of the water, approached slowly. It came to a stop opposite the boat and not ten feet from the side of it. It was the submarine. "Vot ship vass dot?" were the first words of throaty guttural English that came from a figure which projected from the conning tower. "The _Laconia_," answered the Chief Steward Ballyn, who commanded the life-boat. "Vot?" "The _Laconia_, Cunard Line," responded the steward. "Vot did she weigh?" was the next question from the submarine. "Eighteen thousand tons." "Any passengers?" "Seventy-three," replied Ballyn, "many of them women and children--some of them in this boat. She had over two hundred in the crew." "Did she carry cargo?" "Yes." "Iss der Captain in dot boat?" "No," Ballyn answered. "Well, I guess you'll be all right. A patrol will pick you up some time soon." Without further sound save for the almost silent fixing of the conning tower lid, the submarine moved off. "I thought it best to make my answers sharp and satisfactory, sir," said Ballyn, when he repeated the conversation to me word for word. "I was thinking of the women and children in the boat. I feared every minute that somebody in our boat might make a hostile move, fire a revolver, or throw something at the submarine. I feared the consequence of such an act." There was no assurance of an early pickup so we made preparations for a siege with the elements. The weather was a great factor. That black rim of clouds looked ominous. There was a good promise of rain. February has a reputation for nasty weather in the north Atlantic. The wind was cold and seemed to be rising. Our boat bobbed about like a cork on the swells, which fortunately were not choppy. How much rougher seas could the boat weather? This question and conditions were debated pro and con. Had our rockets been seen? Did the first torpedo put the wireless out of commission? If it had been able to operate, had anybody heard our S. O. S.? Was there enough food and drinking water in the boat to last? This brought us to an inventory of our small craft. After considerable difficulty, we found the lamp, a can of powder flares, the tin of ship's biscuit, matches and spare oil. The lamp was lighted. Other lights were now visible. As we drifted in the darkness, we could see them every time we mounted the crest of the swells. The boats carrying these lights remained quite close together at first. One boat came within sound and I recognised the Harry Lauder-like voice of the second assistant purser whom I had last heard on Wednesday at the ship's concert. Now he was singing--"I Want to Marry 'arry," and "I Love to be a Sailor."