Saw the _Triumph_ torpedoed. She had been acting the part of dry nurse to our crowd off Anzac Cove, and it was like a death in the family when she went to the bottom. I was sitting in my dug-out at the time it happened, eating the mid-day meal, and had a first-class view of the whole thing at a distance of about two and a half miles. From the height of our camp above sea-level we could even see the submarine, like a shadowy fish, below the water. She was reported to have been struck by two torpedoes; I saw only one, however—or its wake, rather. The projectile seemed to hit the warship right amidships, going through her nets as if they were made of paper. A tremendous cloud of dense brown smoke mixed with steam sprang aloft like a geyser, and the big ship listed over at once in the direction from which the torpedo had come. At the same time she seemed to settle down in the water with a jump. The submarine couldn't have been more than 200 yards away when she launched the torpedo, which appeared to cut the water at a great bat. A destroyer was cruising about close handy, and she at once backed in against the battleship, the crew jumping and tumbling on board like rats. Meantime she (the destroyer) opened fire every time the submarine shoved her periscope above the surface. One shot was fired at a distance of only about fifty yards. The sea was soon alive with all kinds of small craft hastening to the work of rescue. In ten minutes the _Triumph_ turned completely over, showing her bottom for all the world like a big whale, finally disappearing in about twenty minutes from the time of the explosion. She didn't dive—just slowly subsided. Many of the crew jumped overboard; through glasses we could see them struggling in the water. Almost immediately a whole flotilla of torpedo boats and destroyers seemed to spring from nowhere, and started to hunt down the submarine. As I write they are steaming round and round in a big circle, an aeroplane hovering overhead and evidently directing operations; at the same time the enemy is pumping shrapnel into the bay from long range for all he is worth, evidently in the hope of bagging those engaged in the work of rescue. I have since seen it stated in the papers that the enemy's artillery was directed against the destroyers, and that the drowning men and those assisting them had to take their chance. Then why in the name of common sense did he use shrapnel? The contention is absurd. The Turks on the whole were clean fighters, but when the poor old _Triumph_ went down they put a dirty blot on their record. I hope never to see another ship torpedoed; it was one of the saddest sights I ever witnessed.