It was just after half-past ten that night when the liner struck. Of more than 100 people on board most, including the 21 passengers, had already turned in, or were preparing to do so. The ship was tearing along at full speed, 16 knots, in pitch darkness, showing no glimmer of light without, for fear of submarines. She had safely traversed more than 5,000 miles of the Atlantic without being molested since leaving Liverpool three weeks previously. In three more days she should be in Table Bay, "halfway house" on her voyage to the Middle East with an important cargo for the Allies' military forces.
What it was she struck will never be known for certain. Her master thought it might have been a submarine. Enemy U-Boats were known to be in those waters at the time. Or it may have heen an uncharted rock. The captain had set his course ten miles off the coast. The only obstruction shown upon the chart was the Clan Alpine Shoal, three to five miles off the coast and marked "P.D." Most of the dangers marked upon that chart had those letters next to them. They meant "position doubtful". The court of inquiry that investigated later decided that the liner may have hit the Clan Alpine Shoal. Her captain believed he was nine miles at least from it. If the court's supposition was right, either the shoal was wrongly charted or the liner, influenced by treacherous currents, had been drawn well away from its course.

Whether it was a navigator's or a cartographer's error, or just a thousand-to-one chance, its consequences were going to be great upon a large number of lives.
None of the five lookouts or the third officer, who was on watch on the bridge, saw anything to warn them of danger. There was a violent bump, then two lesser bumps that were more like shivers. Those below heard as well as felt the first bump, then heard the bottom plates grating over something hard. The ship heeled over to an angle of about seven degrees, then slowly righted herself. She carried on at full speed.
Most of the passengers jumped out of their bunks, hurriedly donned dressing gowns or threw warm things over their night clothes, and made for the foot of the cabin companionway with their life-jackets. There were women among them, clutching sleeping babies in their arms. Some of the women were agitated, and there was anxiety on every face, but there was no panic. From the rhythmic sound of the motors in the engineroom below the ship seemed to be still travelling at normal speed, and that was reassuring. Hopes that nothing serious was wrong seemed confirmed when word came from the bridge that the ship was safe and passengers should return to their bunks. One by one they broke away, having exhausted in discussion all the possibilities as to what might have happened. The main thing was that everything was all right, that it was chilly there in the passage, and that warm beds were waiting. Soon most of them were sleeping peacefully. Meanwhile, what was happening up on deck? The captain had been reading in his cabin when he felt the first bump. He guessed at once what had happened. Running onto the bridge, he found the third officer there, and at once gave the order to swing the ship hard-a-starboard until she headed due west, away from the coast. He kept her at full speed while he sent officers and men to find out what the ship's condition was.
Reports soon came in. The duct keel beneath the engineroom appeared to have been torn away and water was rushing in. The propeller shaft tunnel was leaking. Water was rising in numbers two and three holds. The engineroom reported leaks.