Hundreds of eyes were fixed on the sea, scrutinizing the surface of the waves, believing every object which they saw,—­bits of wood, seaweed or crates floating on the surface of the water,—­to be the top of a periscope.

The officials of the battalion of snipers had gone to prow and poop in order to maintain discipline among their men.  But the Asiatics, scornful of death, had not abandoned their serene apathy.  Some merely looked out over the sea with a childish curiosity, anxious to become acquainted with this new diabolical toy, invented by the superior races.  On the decks reserved for first class passengers astonishment was as great as the uneasiness.

“Submarines in the Mediterranean!...  But is it possible?...”

Those last to awake appeared very incredulous and could only be convinced of what had occurred when they heard the news from the boat’s crew.

Ferragut wandered around like a soul in torment.  Remorse made him hide himself in his stateroom.  These people with their complaints and their comments were causing him great annoyance.  Soon he found that he could not remain in this isolation.  He needed to see and to know,—­like a criminal who returns to the place where he has committed his crime.

At midday they began to see on the horizon various little clouds.  They were the ships hastening from all sides, attracted by this unexpected attack.

The French boat that was sailing ahead of them suddenly moderated its speed.  They had come into the zone of the shipwreck.  In the lookouts were sailors exploring the sea and shouting the orders that guided the steamer’s course.  During these evolutions, there began to slip past the vessel’s sides the remains of the tragic event.

The two rows of heads lined up on the different decks saw life preservers floating by empty, a boat with its keel in the air, and bits of wood belonging to a raft evidently constructed in great haste and never finished.

Suddenly a howl from a thousand voices, followed by a funereal silence....  The body of a woman lying on some planks passed by.  One of her legs was thrust into a gray silk stocking, her head was hanging on the opposite side, spreading its blonde locks over the water like a bunch of gilded seaweed.

Her firm and juvenile bust was visible through the opening of a drenched nightgown which was outlining her body with unavoidable immodesty.  She had been surprised by the shipwreck at the very moment that she had been trying to dress; perhaps terror had made her throw herself into the sea.  Death had twisted her face with a horrible contraction, exposing the teeth.  One side of her face was swollen from some blow.

Looking over the shoulders of two ladies who were trembling and leaning against the deck-railing, Ferragut caught a glimpse of this corpse.  In his turn the vigorous sailor trembled like a woman, and his eyes filmed with mistiness.  He simply could not look at it!...  And again he went down into his stateroom to hide himself.