The pillar of flame vanished the next
instant, but high in the air fire-balls seemed to linger for some
minutes. And then the pillar of smoke rose up. It rose and rose, swift
and gigantic, growing all the while greater and more terrible in girth,
till at last when it was some hundreds of feet high it slowly stretched
out at the top until it looked like some huge evil tree seen in a
nightmare.
And there I stood at the window and stared. And there on the spot where
H.M.S. _Uruguay_ with her crew of hundreds and all her complement of
officers (largely R.N.R. and R.N.V.R. men like myself) had lain, stood
that gigantic pillar of smoke. Then all at once I realised that
everything living in that ship and most of her inanimate self was
represented now only by that foul column.
I heard the doctor's door open and his voice say: "Mr. Hobhouse!
Hobhouse!"
I had presence of mind to clap my glasses hurriedly on my nose, before I
rushed into the passage.
"What has happened? Is that the ship gone, do you think?" he asked in a
low voice.
I noticed that he seemed a man with a good control over his feelings. I
had mine, too, pretty well in hand, but to play the absurd Thomas
Hobhouse at such a moment was more than I cared to do. I preferred to
show a little of what I felt and get away from him on that excuse.
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