Surely everything was all right and there was nothing to fear.  Even the Japanese commander of the gun crew betrayed no anxiety on the matter, but stood with the passengers on the deck watching the oncoming stranger.  Five bells had just gone when the vessel, then about seven hundred yards away from us, took a sudden turn to port and ran up signals and the German Imperial Navy flag.  There was no longer any doubt—­the worst had happened.  We had walked blindly into the open arms of the enemy.  The signals were to tell us to stop.  We did not stop.  The raider fired two shots across our bows, and they fell into the sea quite close to where most of the passengers were standing.  Still we did not stop.  It was wicked to ignore these orders and warnings, as there was no possible chance of escape from an armed vessel of any kind.  The attempt to escape had been left too late; it should have been made immediately the smoke of the raider was seen.  Most of the passengers went to their cabins for life-belts and life-saving waistcoats, and at once returned to the deck to watch the raider.  As we were still steaming and had not even yet obeyed the order to stop, the raider opened fire on us in dead earnest, firing a broadside.

While the firing was going on, a seaplane appeared above the raider; some assert that she dropped bombs in front of us, but personally I did not see this.

The greatest alarm now prevailed on our ship, and passengers did not know where to go to avoid the shells which we could hear and feel striking the ship.  My wife and I returned to our cabin to fetch an extra pair of spectacles, our passports, and my pocketbook, and at the same time picked up her jewel-case.  The alley-way between the companion-way and our cabin was by this time strewn with splinters of wood and glass and wreckage; pieces of shell had been embedded in the panelling and a large hole made in the funnel.  This damage had been done by a single shot aimed at the wireless room near the bridge.

We returned once more to the port deck, where most of the first-class passengers had assembled waiting for orders—­which never came.  No instructions came from the Captain or officers or crew; in fact, we never saw any of the ship’s officers until long after all the lifeboats were afloat on the sea.

The ship had now stopped, and the firing had apparently ceased, but we did not know whether it would recommence, and of course imagined the Germans were firing to sink the ship.  It was useless trying to escape the shots, as we did not then know at what part of the ship the Germans were firing, so there was only one thing for the passengers to do—­to leave the ship as rapidly as possible, as we all thought she was sinking.  Some of the passengers attempted to go on the bridge to get to the boat deck and help lower the boats, as it seemed nothing was being done, but we were ordered back by the Second Steward, who, apparently alone among the ship’s officers, kept his head throughout.