Tish Marches On Read Online Free Page B

she said plaintively.
    It was some time before we recovered them, luckily undamaged, and I regret to say that Aggie was in a most unpleasant humor. Not only had a small fish taken refuge about her person, but she had swallowed considerable sea water. She said with some bitterness that she had been a number of things in her time, but never an aquarium.
    “Ad I’be full of water,” she added indignantly. “Put a couple of hoops od be, ad I’d bake a good barrel.”
    However, I soon forgot her troubles. On emerging into the cabin I realized that something was seriously wrong. Tish was standing in the water, gazing ahead, and her face was sober as she turned to me.
    “The engines have stopped, Lizzie,” she said.
    It was but too true.
    Words fail me when I attempt to describe our situation. There was no land in sight. The cabin was awash, and no efforts of ours sufficed to open the door so that the water might escape. And our attempts at bailing—with the teakettle and frying pan—had little or no effect; indeed, they only revealed the variety of sea life we had picked up, including several fish, an eel or two, and a number of small crabs. (We evidently overlooked some fish, as the Daily Mail later stated that two were found in the Snark , quite alive, and adding to the mystery.)
    As we were all drenched to the skin, we were obliged to remove such garments as we could and hang them up to dry. This we did by stretching a line, and what was later alluded to as our red flag was merely Aggie’s flannel petticoat which, hanging near a window, blew out at intervals.
    In addition to all this, we were drifting helplessly, now high above the waves and then close to the surface; and to add to our discomfort a storm was undoubtedly blowing up. There were huge clouds to the west, and the sky was darkening. No efforts of Tish’s would start the motors, and it was with a sad heart that I prepared the evening meal of scrambled eggs and tea.
    It was late at night when the storm hit us. As everyone remembers the hurricane of that date, I need say little about it. At first the rain was so heavy that we were beaten down until we could hear the wild waves beneath us. After that came the wind. It blew away some of our clothing, and at times whirled us about until at last it was necessary to tie ourselves to our seats.
    Incredible as it may sound, that situation lasted for two full days. And as it now looked as though years later the Snark might be discovered in some remote part of the world, I felt it my duty to keep a record of our strange journey through the air.
    I reproduce here one day only, as the other was the same. It follows:
“Monday, 8 A.M. Wind still blowing. Breakfast of scrambled eggs and tea.
    “Monday, 12 Noon. Wind still blowing. Lunch of scrambled eggs and tea.
    “Monday, 6 P.M. Wind still blowing. Supper of scrambled eggs and tea.”
    Tish’s knitting had fortunately escaped the deluge, and she completed a pair of socks during this time. By constant bailing Aggie and I had somewhat reduced our water content; but it was a dreary interval, and Aggie’s nerves began to suffer. The limited diet of eggs was not too good for her, and when on the second day we sighted an iceberg she at once demanded to be lowered to it.
    “At least it is goig sobewhere,” she said bitterly. “Ad I’d like to bet it dever heard of a scrabbled egg.”
    Dawn of the third day found us still in this painful situation, and fast in the clouds and fog. But that day the storm abated somewhat, and later on Tish glanced up from her knitting and gazed steadily ahead.
    “I do not wish to encourage any false hopes,” she said. “But there is a ship not far away. It is just possible that we are saved.”

IV
    W HAT FOLLOWED IS ALMOST certainly the origin of the published statement that a certain British liner was attacked at sea on that date by a Russian dirigible, flying the red flag; and the answer to the press reports, that the attack was