222 THE IMAGE OF WAR 



suddenly disturbed from the quiet perusal of a 

 book in the saloon, by a violent shock and crash 

 of an unmistakable nature. Having pacified some 

 terrified lady-passengers, I ran on deck, just in time 

 to see an iron sailing barque of some thousand tons 

 disappearing into the fog. I was not too late, how- 

 ever, to notice a gaping rent just forward of her 

 port-quarter, extending at least eight or ten feet 

 above the water-line, and also her skipper standing 

 on a heap of deck lumber, and shouting " We're 

 sinking ! We're sinking ! " 



Then the white fog- wreaths closed in on her. For 

 a quarter of an hour we lay there, feeling very un- 

 happy about them, for the damage to our own steamer 

 was superficial. At last the fog lifted again, and 

 there she was still. A boat was sent to her, when 

 it turned out that the alarm had been somewhat 

 needless, for the damage was all well above water. 

 The day being quite calm we could safely leave her 

 to find her way to the nearest port, and did so. Then 

 our Dutch skipper turned to us, and said, " Gentle- 

 men, I call you all to witness that I was steaming 

 dead slow." 



This was pretty good, considering that he had 

 never slowed down a single revolution from the 

 minute he got clear of his English harbour. For 

 obvious reasons I omit the name of his company, 

 but in future I sail, when possible, under the Union 

 Jack. I travelled on leisurely, spending a day each 

 at Vienna and Budapest, and reached Sarajevo, the 

 Bosnian capital, on the 5th. 



I do not propose to describe my journey ings at full 

 length, so I will merely say that, after a couple of 

 days in the capital, I left with an Oher-forster who 



