I had decided to go through that day to London on the 3 o’clock train and help through the K----’s. McM----, my bed-fellow, had found his friend L----, and as he was in good hands and wanted to rest up a bit he decided to stay. There was no chance of getting K---- up on to a jaunting car, he was suffering too much, so I went out into the street and held up a private motor car, for you couldn’t hire one in Queenstown, and after a few words of explanation the owner came gladly to the hotel and took Mr. and Mrs. K---- to the station. We had a comfortable trip to Kingstown and got aboard the Irish mail packet for another little trip on the water. We had telegraphed ahead for a cabin, and we got K---- stretched out in one of the berths and made him as comfortable as we could. He slept from sheer exhaustion. Mrs. K---- and I half sat up on the opposite sofa. Shortly the steamer was under way. It was not what you would call a desirable cabin, for it was directly over the engines and they pounded terrifically; I’ll admit that about every throb of the engines went through the pit of my stomach, but finally I dozed off, for I was pretty much “all in.” I must have waked at intervals of ten or fifteen minutes, and on looking out of the corner of my eye at Mrs. K---- I saw one of the most charming pieces of devotion that I have ever witnessed. I am confident she never closed her eyes all night nor did she take them off her husband’s face--she just silently watched. I had slept about an hour, when I went up on deck to see what was doing. In passing through the saloon a weird sight met my eyes and one that I am glad the K----’s did not see. Every man who had been a passenger on the Lusitania was sitting by a table or reclining on a couch, with a lifebelt strapped around him. Many had the original ones from the Lusitania. It was certainly “a gloom.” I went up on deck and that was still more weird. Not a light to be seen; every porthole was heavily curtained and heavy canvas was stretched along the side, and the only thing visible was the masthead light. It was blowing half a gale and we were making 23.8 knots per hour. As I came around the corner from the shelter of the cabin the wind nearly struck me off my feet. The canvas was slatting back and forth with reports like cannon, and I clung to the rail fascinated by this wild dash. Would that the “Lucy” had shown such speed! There was a haze that could almost be called a fog, but no horn was sounded as we tore through the black night. I crawled back to the shelter of the cuddy and there found the second Officer. He was a fine chap and we had a chat in his cabin. That wild dash I shan’t forget for one while!