Water rushed into the four, great smoke stacks of the ship as they, too, hit the waves. Tremendous, churning whirlpools sucked victims inside. A few were ejected, blackened with soot. Propellers rose above the maelstrom. The rudder lifted higher than the smoke stacks. The ship's prow pointed down toward the deep. It looked as if the ship's nose would hit the sea bed hundreds of feet below. Green waters swallowed the decks, devouring the remaining passengers who had been clinging to her to the last second. With an audible groan the ship turned onto its starboard side and disappeared.
Dear, God! Dora thought. It couldn't have been more than a few minutes since I left the engine room after the first explosion sounded and rattled the decks . . . Fifteen or at most twenty . . . no more . . .