By RICHARD J. BEAMISH
“And most who drowned were men.” ’Tis good to read
These strong fair words. They tell of manhood tried.
Of those who saw the weak ones safe, then died.
Rake muck, sneer slurs. You can’t paint black the breed
That smiled at Death in that heroic deed.
Poor men forgot their lot; the rich, their pride.
Like gods, they struggled o’er the rising tide
For others’ lives; their own, they scorned to heed.
Then kindly Night shut out their tragedy.
God send the words to flame their message through
The grieving world: “For inasmuch as ye
Help thus My helpless ones, ye helpeth Me.”
They sleep where Love and Death both found them true,
Their names as deathless as their shrine, the sea.
CHAPTER II.
HEART-RENDING SCENES ON CARPATHIA.
The Next Day—Caring for the Sick—Meeting of the Survivors—Personal Wireless Messages Given Precedence—Marconi’s Appeal Fruitless—Quartermaster Tells Story.
The writer’s narrative continues:
In the hospital and the public rooms lay, in blankets, several others who had been benumbed by the water. Mrs. Rosa Abbott, who was in the water for hours, was restored during the day. G. Wikeman, the Titanic’s barber, who declared he was blown off the ship by the second of the two explosions after the crash, was treated for bruises. A passenger, who was thoroughly ducked before being picked up, caused much amusement on this ship, soon after the doctors were through with him, by demanding a bath.
Storekeeper Prentice, the last man off the Titanic to reach this ship, was also soon over the effects of his long swim in the icy waters, into which he leaped from the poop deck.
The physicians of the Carpathia were praised, as was Chief Steward Hughes, for work done in making the arrivals comfortable and averting serious illness.
Monday night on the Carpathia was one of rest. The wailing and sobbing of the day were hushed as the widows and orphans slept. Tuesday, save for the crowded condition of the ship, matters took somewhat their normal appearance.