The man handling the axe probably might have suffered first. I did attempt one small effort. I approached the fighting mass and tapped a man, who was struggling ineffectually to get through, on the shoulder. When he turned round I asked him why he was forgetting the women and children. The man swore at me, adding, "Women be damned! the boats are the only thing for us." Then I asked him if he had a match. "What for?" he demanded. "To light a cigarette with, of course." "To hell with you and your cigarettes!" he yelled, and springing on the backs of those in front of him he crawled over their heads and jumped for the boat below as it was falling from the davits. I was gratified to see him miss the boat and plunge headlong into the sea. When all three boats were well away from the ship, those left behind, who could think at all, expressed their thankfulness that the rough element had departed. It gave the much-needed opportunity to talk quietly to many who were demented with fear, and to attempt to soothe others whose quiet weeping and wailing was heartbreaking to listen to. Meanwhile the small thirteen-pounder aft and the submarine exchanged shots with ceaseless regularity. But the attacking craft appeared to have two guns in action. Her shells came faster and the high explosive was from time to time varied with shrapnel. Shrapnel is much more unpleasant at sea than on land. One sees it hiss down on the surface of the water like spray from a water-cart. Whilst I was forward taking stock of the hatchway battens for possible floating purposes, I had two fragments pass all too close to either cheek--so close that I actually felt them. I put my hand up to my left cheek expecting to find it laid open, but the skin had not even been broken. A fortunate and most lucky escape. It was the nearest approach to an individual casualty throughout the scrap. When the panic crews in the boats appeared to be about a mile away a high explosive shell from the submarine actually scraped along the whole of the port side of our ship, bursting just in front of her fore-foot. I was forward again at the time getting some lifebelts from the fore-hatch. The explosion knocked me off my feet. Everyone aboard felt the shock. The side of the ship seemed to be stove in, and the captain commanded a member of his crew to see what water the vessel was making. "You damn well go yourself, mister," was the reply he got; which showed the state of nerves aboard. Being almost next to the man in question I volunteered to go, which seemed to somewhat shame the mutinous seaman, as he went below at once. Then the captain did an extraordinary thing. He stopped his ship, hoisted a flag (the W) half-mast high, blew three long blasts on the siren, and came down from the bridge on deck. I met him as he descended the companion and asked him what he was playing at? "I mean to save what lives I can," he said. "The ship is holed and it is useless to carry on."