The sinking of the Wilson line steamship _Runo_ by a mine in the North
Sea is described as follows:
“It was extremely fortunate that the little fleet of four trawlers,
homeward bound with their holds full of fish, chanced to be passing
almost within hailing distance of the _Runo_ at that moment. The
trawlers, regardless of the consequences to themselves, in view of the
possibility that there were other mines in the neighborhood, pushed
through the wreckage and picked up sailors and passengers who were
clinging to timbers and rafts. These were persons who, in the first
panic, had jumped overboard or had been blown into the sea. Others were
gathered from the decks of the fast sinking ship.
“The _Runo_, when she struck the mine, tilted at an angle which made it
difficult to launch the lifeboats. Only two were launched, survivors
said, and these after reaching the water were both overturned by
frightened passengers trying to get into them.
“The _Runo_, after settling by the head, remained in that position for
nearly two hours, her bulkheads holding her afloat until 6 o’clock when
the bulkheads suddenly gave way, elevating her stern high in the air for
a moment, after which she dipped quietly into the depths.
“The work of the trawlers is declared by the _Runo’s_ crew to have been
one of the finest episodes of its kind in the history of the sea.”
“NOTHING SEEMS TO STOP THEM”
A London _Chronicle_ correspondent thus describes the irresistible
advance of the German troops:
“When I wrote my last despatch it seemed as inevitable as the rising of
the next day’s sun that the Germans should enter Paris on that very day.
“They were fighting the British troops at Creil when I came to that
town. Upon the following day they were holding the British in the forest
of Compiègne. They have been as near to Paris as Senlis, almost within
gunshot of the outer forts.
“‘Nothing seems to stop them,’ said many soldiers with whom I spoke. ‘We
kill them and kill them, but they still come on.’”