Death sails aboard the Edwardic. "Douse that light!" bawled a voice almost directly in his ear. He had not realized he was in the midst of a small crowd, until the bitter air was agitated by a dozen movements. Something hard, a shoulder or hand, struck him under the left shoulder-blade, pitching him forward. He knew a second of panic as the rail rushed at him, tilting over deeply to show him the phosphorescent wash boiling below. Just ahead of him, somebody reached out of darkness and struck at the hand that was holding the match. Its light went out. "Don't you know better than to show a light on deck?" demanded the voice of the third officer. "Theres a man overboard," Hooper managed to stutter out. "Spang down he went, splash bang, with a bullet in the back of his head. I evan saw the chap who shot him. For God's sake don't stand there and fuss about matches. There's a man overboard."