There was only one sad mishap throughout the entire excitement.  A woman, losing her head and trying to climb into a lifeboat, before she was ordered to do so, and carrying her baby in her arms at the time, as she was clambering up the rail of the vessel to get into the boat, let her baby slip from her arms into the dark waters below.  With a frenzied scream, she seemed as if about to throw herself after her little one, but strong hands caught her and prevented.

In spite of the watchful eyes of the four escorts plowing along at each corner of the vessel, and signaling constantly, never for a moment during the time we were in the submarine zone did the ship cease its zigzagging course, and lookouts were stationed on every point of the boat from which observations could be had.

The trip was made in perfect safety and I arrived in Halifax, Nova Scotia, five and a half days from the time I left Liverpool.

At last I was on the train for home!  I commenced to count the minutes on the last lap of my journey, and no blushing young girl, making her debut, was any more excited than I was when the iron horse choo-chooed into the station at Ottawa two days later.  As fast as a taxi could make the trip without violating the rigors of the law against speeding, I dashed homeward.  I had sent no word ahead to my people, as I wanted to give them a complete surprise and I succeeded most admirably, my favorite sister fainting as I entered the door.