A Titanic Story
By Mike & Ernst Ulrik Persson

Collapsible "B"
Ernst & Gracie

Colonel Archibald Gracie records one of the most detailed
accounts of the events of the evening aboard Collapsible "B"

Ernst Story

Archibald Gracie IV

Gracie was born in 1859 in Mobile, Alabama, a member of the wealthy Gracie family of New York. He was a namesake and direct descendant of the Archibald Gracie who had built Gracie Mansion, the current official residence of the mayor of New York City, in 1799. His father, Archibald Gracie Jr., had been an officer with the Washington Light Infantry of the Confederate Army, serving at the Battle of Chickamauga before dying at Petersburg, Virginia in 1864 during the U.S. Civil War. Young Archibald attended St. Paul's Academy in Concord, New Hampshire and the United States Military Academy, eventually becoming a colonel of the U.S. 7th Cavalry Regiment.

Colonel Gracie was a keen amateur historian and was especially fascinated by the Battle of Chickamauga at which his father had served. He spent a number of years collecting facts about the battle and eventually wrote a book called The Truth about Chickamauga. He found the experience rewarding but exhausting; in early 1912 he decided to visit Europe without his wife Constance (née Schack) and their daughter in order to recharge his batteries. He traveled to Europe on RMS Oceanic and eventually decided to return to the United States aboard RMS Titanic.

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After the rescue
Gracie returned to New York aboard the Carpathia and soon started on a book about his experiences aboard the Titanic and Collapsible "B". His is one of the most detailed accounts of the events of the evening; Gracie spent months trying to determine exactly who was in each lifeboat and when certain events took place. His work is not without faults; Gracie referred to every man who tried jumped or sneaked aboard a lifeboat as a "Latin", "Japanese", or "Italian", and only gave the names of the men who put their wives aboard lifeboats and remained on the ship if they had been in first class. It is still a valuable resource for Titanic researchers and historians.

Ernst was born on July 29,1886 Sweden. In 1912 he was living in Hollandargatan, Stockholm Sweden he had worked as a janitor and a chauffeur, supporting his wife and two children, Anna, Ernst Folke and Ernst Tage. His sister Elna and niece Selma Strom had been visiting, Per Ulrik and Kristina Persson, Ernst and Elna's parents at their farm in Julita, Ernst and his family were very close and cared about each other very much, so when Selma burnt her hand with hot water, they had to postpone the trip home in order for the injury to heal, the delay led to them traveling on the Titanic with Ernst who had been planning to emigrate to the US. Ernst was moving to the United States just as many others, that were looking for a better life, one of hope and prosperity. He boarded the Titanic at Southhampton England and left his family at home. His plans were to get a good job and send for them later, he thought it would be easier that way and what a good thing that would turn out to be.
On the evening of April 14, 1912 Ernst and other Third class passengers were celebrating the trip to the USA, on board the greatest ocean liner ever built. The great ship, at that time the largest and most luxurious afloat, it was designed and built by William Pirrie's Belfast firm Harland and Wolff to service the highly competitive Atlantic Ferry route. It had a double-bottomed hull that was divided into 16 presumably watertight compartments. Because four of these could be flooded without endangering the liner's buoyancy, it was considered unsinkable. The Titanic carried a total of 20 lifeboats. 14 of these lifeboats were wooden and each one had a capacity of 65 persons, 2 were wood cutters with a capacity of 40 persons each and 4 were collapsible (wood bottoms and canvas sides) and each collapsible was capable of carrying 47 persons. The total capacity of all 20 lifeboats was 1,178 people.
It was the beginning of the twentieth century, a time of optimism and progress. The transatlantic transport of passengers, cargo, and mail was brisk and competitive. In the spirit of this competition, managing director of the White Star Line, J. Bruce Ismay, engaged the Belfast ship building company of Harland & Wolff to build three leviathans that would become the largest moving objects created by man. The three Royal Mail Ships were to be called Olympic, Titanic, and Gigantic. (Not to tempt fate, later the Gigantic's name would be changed to Britannic.) The ships were to be virtually identical in size and structure, but Titanic was to be the true shining star.
Titanic's keel was laid on March 22, 1909. For the next twenty-six months, Harland & Wolff's shipyard workers labored nine hours a day, six days a week, to construct her massive hull. The White Star flagships would have both reciprocating steam engines, the norm for the period, and a turbine engine to power the center of three propellers. Moreover, a double-plated bottom and a sophisticated system of watertight compartments provided the utmost in security.
On May 31, 1911, her superstructure completed, Titanic slipped gracefully into the River Lagan launched on twenty-two tons of tallow, train oil, and soap, and was towed to the fitting out basin. It was now time for the three thousand carpenters, engineers, electricians, plumbers, painters, master echanics, and interior designers to fit the Titanic with the latest in marine technology and the most sumptuous fixtures and furniture. Finally, on April 2, 1912 she was ready. Certified seaworthy, Harland & Wolff handed her over to the White Star Line and the Royal Mail Triple-Steamer Titanic departed for her place in History

On April 14, 1912 at about 9:40 pm a message from Masaba was received warning the Titanic of a mass of ice lying straight ahead. The message never reached the bridge, but instead was shoved under a paper-weight. At 10:30 p.m. that evening, a ship going the opposite direction of the Titanic was sighted. This ship, the Rappahannock, had emerged from an ice field and had sustained damage to its rudder. The vessel signaled the Titanic about the ice and the Titanic replied that the message was received. At 11 p.m. another ice report was received. This one was from the Californian. This liner had passed through the same ice field that the Rappahannock had reported to the Titanic. Like all the other warnings, this warning never reached the bridge though it was known to both of the Titanic's wireless operators. By the time the bridge realized the ship was about to hit an iceberg, it was too late. Quartermaster Hitchens tried to turn the wheel hard to the starboard. Twenty seconds later, he had an order for full speed astern but the iceberg was too close. The starboard side hit the iceberg, bringing a block of ice onto the deck. After the collision occurred, there was only one thing open for Captain Smith to do. It was almost midnight and he gave the order to take to the lifeboats. This decision brought Captain Smith face-to-face with the fact that there were 2,201 people on board and enough lifeboats for only 1,178 people. The Captain was going to have to make a choice as to who would be the first allowed on the lifeboats. Around 12:30 a.m. the bridge informed the crew that only women and children would be loaded on the lifeboats. At about this time Ernst, Elma and Telma in Ernst's own words "When Elna and I came up on deck, all the lifeboats were filled, so there was no chance of rescue. Before their struggle to reach the deck of the Titanic, at about 12:45 the first lifeboat was launched #7 then 5, 6, 3, 8, 1, 9, 10, 11, 12, 14, 13, 15 and 16 then collapsible C. At about 1:45 am the last two lifeboat would be launched, someone pointed out that a group of men were trying to take over Boat 2. Second Officer Lightoller jumped into the boat and threatened them with his empty gun driving them all out. With the help of Archibald Gracie they were able to load 36 women and children into this boat, and it was lowered at 1:45 under the command of Fourth Officer Joseph Boxhall. It was the fifteenth boat to leave the Titanic and contained 20 people although its maximum capacity was 40. The lifeboat needed to travel only 15 feet to reach the water. In normal circumstances it would have been 70 feet. Gracie and Smith continued to assist Lightoller, now loading the women and children into Lifeboat 4. One of the ladies Gracie lifted into the boat was was the pregnant teenage wife of John Jacob Astor. Lightoller tried to remove thirteen year old John Borie Ryerson from the boat, but was persuaded by the boys father to allow him to stay. Lifeboat 4 was under the command of Quartermaster Perkis, it left at 1:55 a.m. At around 2:00 am all of the Titanic rockets had been fired and all the lifeboats had been lowered, except for the four collapsible Engelhardt boats with canvas sides. Collapsible A and B were still lashed upside down to the roof of the officers quarters. The crew was having trouble removing the canvas covers and Gracie gave them his penknife. Collapsible D was lifted, righted and hooked to the tackles where Boat 2 had been. The crew then formed a ring around the lifeboat and allowed only women to pass through. The boat could hold 47, but after 15 women had been loaded, no more women could be found. Lightoller now allowed to men to take the vacant seats. This was when Gracie found Mrs Brown and Miss Evans were still on board, so he escorted them to the lifeboat. When Gracie arrived with the female passengers, all the men immediately stepped out and made way for them. Thinking there was only room for one more lady, Edith turned to Mrs Brown and told her, "You go first. You have children waiting at home." Mrs Brown was helped in and the boat left the Titanic at 2:05 a.m. under Quartermaster Bright. Edith Evans would never find a space in any of the lifeboats and died in the sinking. As the collapsible was lowered to the ocean, two men were seen to jump into it from the rapidly flooding A deck. Ironically these two men were Gracie's friends, Woolner and Björnström-Steffansson, who had found themselves alone near the open forward end of A-deck. Just above them Collapsible D was slowly descending towards the sea, and as the water rushed up the deck towards them they got onto the railing and leaped into the boat, Björnström-Steffansson landing in a heap at the bow. Woolner's landing was similarly undignified but they were safe. Gracie and Smith were still working on the Collapsibles when the bridge dipped under at 2:15. Gracie and Smith turned and headed for stern when met a crowd of men and women coming up from steerage. In Archibald own words "My friend Clinch Smith made the proposition that we should leave and go toward the stern. But there arose before us from the decks below a mass of humanity several lines deep converging on the Boat Deck facing us and completely blocking our passage to the stern. There were women in the crowd as well as men and these seemed to be steerage passengers who had just come up from the decks below. Even among these people there was no hysterical cry, no evidence of panic. Oh the agony of it." Ernst describes what happened next in his letter home "Then there was a panic, and everybody who tried to jump into the lifeboats without permission was shot. Women and children first; the men had to save themselves the best they could." Ernst,Elma and Telma were amongst the steerage passengers and in Ernst own words again "When Elna and I came up on deck, all the lifeboats were filled, so there was no chance of rescue. We stood together the whole time, and agreed to accompany each other into the depths. But as the boat sank, and the water started to pour over deck, there was a terrible sight and scuffle, and we became separated. Then I heard Elna say, "Tell Wilhelm and my parents and brothers and sisters if you get rescued." I didn't see her again because we were all washed overboard."

As the Titanic foundered, Gracie stayed with the crowd. As the water rushed towards them, Gracie jumped with the wave, caught hold of the bottom rung of the ladder to the roof of the officers mess and pulled himself up. Clinch Smith disappeared beneath the waves never to be seen again. As the ship sank, the resulting undertow pulled Gracie deep into icy waters, he kicked himself free far below the surface and, with the aid of his life preserver, swam clear. Clinging to a floating wooden crate, Gracie was able to swim over to the overturned Collapsible B and, with a little help managed to climb onto it. At the same time Ernst entered the water, " I sank several meters below the surface. Floating up again, I had a roof of wreckage over my head, and hung on for a good while. But then the ship began to sink, so I had to leave the wreckage and try to swim away. Otherwise, I would have been dragged into the depths once again. As I floated and swam around, I saw how people in the water tried to save themselves in an overloaded boat. But when they hung on to the sides, the boat overturned with the keel upward. I saw how some people climbed up on it, so I swam to it, and was taken up. It was so crowded that it floated nearly one meter below the water. There I had to lie for six hours with the water up to my shoulders. Just before Ernst and Gracie were washed over board Archibald Gracie describes some details in his own words "Boat A became entangled and was abandoned, while he saw the other, bottom up and filled with people." It was on this boat that he also eventually climbed and was saved with Ernst and many others. Archibald Gracie describes "Clinch Smith and I got away from this point just before the water reached it and drowned Chief Officer Wilde and First Officer Murdoch, and others who were not successful in effecting a lodgment on the boat as it was swept off the deck. This moment was the first fateful crisis of the many that immediately followed. As bearing upon it I quote the reported statement of Harold S. Bride, the junior Marconi operator. His account also helps to determine the fate of Captain Smith. He says: "Then came the Captain's voice [from the bridge to the Marconi operators], 'Men, you have done your full duty. You can do no more. Abandon your cabin. Now, it is every man for himself.' " "Phillips continued to work," he says, "for about ten minutes or about fifteen minutes after the Captain had released him. The water was then coming into the cabin. I went to the place where I had seen the collapsible boat on the Boat Deck and to my surprise I saw the boat, and the men still trying to push it off. They could not do it. I went up to them and was just lending a hand when a large wave came awash of the deck. The big wave carried the boat off. I had hold of an oarlock and I went off with it. The next I knew I was in the boat. But that was not all. I was in the boat and the boat was upside down and I was under it. How I got out from under the boat I do not know, but I felt a breath at last." From this it appears evident that, so far as Clinch Smith is concerned, it would have been better to have stayed by this Engelhardt boat to the last, for here he had a chance of escape like Bride and others of the crew who clung to it, but which I only reached again after an incredibly long swim under water. The next crisis, which was the fatal one to Clinch Smith and to the great mass of people that suddenly arose before us as I followed him astern, has already been described. The simple expedient of jumping with the "big wave" as demonstrated above carried me to safety, away from a dangerous position to the highest part of the ship, but I was the only one who adopted it successfully. The force of the wave that struck Clinch Smith and the others undoubtedly knocked most of them there unconscious against the walls of the officers' quarters and other appurtenances of the ship on the Boat Deck. As the ship keeled over forward, I believe that their bodies were caught in the angles of this deck, or entangled in the ropes, and in these other appurtenances thereon, and sank with the ship. My holding on to the iron railing just when I did prevented my being knocked unconscious. I pulled myself over on the roof on my stomach, but before I could get to my feet I was in a whirlpool of water, swirling round and round, as I still tried to cling to the railing as the ship plunged to the depths below. Down, down, I went it seemed a great distance. There was a very noticeable pressure upon my ears, though there must have been plenty of air that the ship carried down with it. When under water I retained, as it appears, a sense of general direction, and, as soon as I could do so, swam away from the starboard side of the ship, as I knew my life depended upon it. I swam with all my strength, and I seemed endowed with an extra supply for the occasion. I was incited to desperate effort by the thought of boiling water, or steam, from the expected explosion of the ship's boilers, and that I would be scalded to death, like the sailors of whom I had read in the account of the British battle-ship Victoria sunk in collision with the Camper down in the Mediterranean in 1893. Second Officer Lightoller told me he also had the same idea, and that if the fires had not been drawn the boilers would explode and the water become boiling hot. As a consequence, the plunge in the icy water produced no sense of coldness whatever, and I had no thought of cold until later on when I climbed on the bottom of the upturned boat. My being drawn down by suction to a greater depth was undoubtedly checked to some degree by the life-preserver which I wore, but it is to the buoyancy of the water, caused by the volume of air rising from the sinking ship, that I attributed the assistance which enabled me to strike out and swim faster and further under water than I ever did before. I held my breath for what seemed an interminable time until I could scarcely stand it any longer, but I congratulated myself then and there that not one drop of sea-water was allowed to enter my mouth. With renewed determination and set jaws, I swam on. Just at the moment I thought that for lack of breath I would have to give in, I seemed to have been provided with a second wind, and it was just then that the thought that this was my last moment came upon me. I wanted to convey the news of how I died to my loved ones at home. As I swam beneath the surface of the ocean, I prayed that my spirit could go to them and say, "Good-bye, until we meet again in heaven.." In this connection, the thought was in my mind if I prayed hard enough that this, my last wish to communicate with my wife and daughter, might be granted. " Ernst has a similar thought as he was in the water with seemingly no hope, as he explains to his wife "You, my dear wife, got to be with me in the water. Yours was the only photograph I had, and it stayed fast in my pocket. The first I did when I was on a dry surface, I took it out and looked at it. I began to cry, but then I thought that you smiled at me, and I became calm." Archibald continues, "with this second wind under water there came to me a new lease of life and strength, until finally I noticed by the increase of light that I was drawing near to the surface. Though it was not daylight, the clear star-lit night made a noticeable difference in the degree of light immediately below the surface of the water. As I was rising, I came in contact with ascending wreckage, but the only thing I struck of material size was a small plank, which I tucked under my right arm. This circumstance brought with it the reflection that it was advisable for me to secure what best I could to keep me afloat on the surface until succor arrived. When my head at last rose above the water, I detected a piece of wreckage like a wooden crate, and I eagerly seized it as a nucleus of the projected raft to be constructed from what flotsam and jetsam I might collect. Looking about me, I could see no Titanic in sight. She had entirely disappeared beneath the calm surface of the ocean and without a sign of any wave. That the sea had swallowed her up with all her precious belongings was indicated by the slight sound of a gulp behind me as the water closed over her. The length of time that I was under water can be estimated by the fact that I sank with her, and when I came up there was no ship in sight. The accounts of others as to the length of time it took the Titanic to sink afford the best measure of the interval I was below the surface. What impressed me at the time that my eyes beheld the horrible scene was a thin light- gray smoky vapor that hung like a pall a few feet above the broad expanse of sea that was covered with a mass of tangled wreckage. That it was a tangible vapor, and not a product of imagination, I feel well assured. It may have been caused by smoke or steam rising to the surface around the area where the ship had sunk. At any rate it produced a supernatural effect, and the pictures I had seen by Dante and the description I had read in my Virgil of the infernal regions, of Charon, and the River Lethe, were then uppermost in my thoughts. Add to this, within the area described,which was as far as my eyes could reach, there arose to the sky the most horrible sounds ever heard by mortal man except by those of us who survived this terrible tragedy. The agonizing cries of death from over a thousand throats, the wails and groans of the suffering, the shrieks of the terror-stricken and the awful gaspings for breath of those in the last throes of drowning, none of us will ever forget to our dying day. "Help! Help! Boat ahoy! Boat ahoy!" and "My God! My God!" were the heart-rending cries and shrieks of men, which floated to us over the surface of the dark waters continuously for the next hour, but as time went on, growing weaker and weaker until they died out entirely. As I clung to my wreckage, I noticed just in front of me, a few yards away, a group of three bodies with heads in the water, face downwards, and just behind me to my right another body, all giving unmistakable evidence of being drowned. Possibly these had gone down to the depths as I had done, but did not have the lung power that I had to hold the breath and swim under water, an accomplishment which I had practised from my school days. There was no one alive or struggling in the water or calling or aid within the immediate vicinity of where I arose to the surface. I threw my 'right leg over the wooden crate in an attempt to straddle and balance myself on top of it, but I turned over in a somersault with it under water, and up to the surface again. What may be of interest is the thought that then occurred to me of the accounts and pictures of a wreck, indelibly impressed upon my memory when a boy, because of my acquaintance with some of the victims, of a frightful disaster of that day, namely the wreck of the Fille de Havre in the English Channel in 1873, I had in mind Mrs. Bulkley's description, and the picture of her clinging to some wreckage as a rescue boat caught sight of her, bringing the comforting words over the water, "We are English sailors coming to save you." I looked around, praying for a similar interposition of Fate, but I knew the thought of a rescuing boat was a vain one — for had not all the lifeboats, loaded with women and children, departed from the ship fifteen or twenty minutes before I sank with it? And had I not seen the procession of them on the port side fading away from our sight? But my prayerful thought and hope were answered in an unexpected direction. I espied to my left, a considerable distance away, a better vehicle of escape than the wooden crate on which my attempt to ride had resulted in a second ducking. What I saw was no less than the same Engelhardt, or "surf-boat," to whose launching I had lent my efforts, until the water broke upon the ship's Boat Deck where we were. On top of this upturned boat, half reclining on her bottom, were now more than a dozen men, whom, by their dress, I took to be all members of the crew of the ship. Thank God, I did not hesitate a moment in discarding the friendly crate that had been my first aid. I struck out through the wreckage and after a considerable swim reached the port side amidships of this Engelhardt boat, which with her companions, wherever utilized, did good service in saving the lives of many others. All honor to the Dane, Captain Engelhardt of Copenhagen, who built them. I say "port side" because this boat as it was propelled through the water had Lightoller in the bow and Bride at the stern, and I believe an analysis of the testimony shows that the actual bow of the boat was turned about by the wave that struck it on the Boat Deck and the splash of the funnel thereafter, so that its bow pointed in an opposite direction to that of the ship. There was one member of the crew on this craft at the bow and another at the stern who had "pieces of boarding," improvised paddles, which were used effectually for propulsion. When I reached the side of the boat I met with a doubtful reception, and, as no extending hand was held out to me, I grabbed, by the muscle of the left arm, a young member of the crew nearest and facing me. At the same time I threw my right leg over the boat astraddle, pulling myself aboard, with a friendly lift to my foot given by someone astern as I assumed a reclining position with them on the bottom of the capsized boat. Then after me came a dozen other swimmers who clambered around and whom we helped aboard. Among them was one completely exhausted, who came on the same port side as myself. I pulled him in and he lay face downward in front of me for several hours, until just before dawn he was able to stand up with the rest of us. The moment of getting aboard this upturned boat was one of supreme mental relief, more so than any other until I reached the deck of the hospitable Carpathia on the next morning. I now felt for the first time after the lifeboats left us aboard ship that I had some chance of escape from the horrible fate of drowning in the icy waters of the middle Atlantic. Ernest was very close to Gracie at this time and describes his rescue on collapsible B to a reporter from the Chicago Daily News and the The Lake County Times "Suddenly the boat gave a lurch and we were thrown into the sea. I went under, it seems, about ten times, and each time was brought up by the reflex action caused by the suction of the sinking of the ship. I grasped a plank and looked around for my sister and niece, but they had disappeared. "In about an hour I saw an overturned lifeboat, which was filled with men. I begged them to take me on but they refused, saying that if they did they would all be hurled off into the water. He made for it as best he could and managed to get a hold on it and eventually was taken up on it. Finally we allsaw another lifeboat with women and children in it. It wasn't full, however. We called to them and begged them to take us in. The seamen in charge refused, saying that the work of pulling them over the side of the boat would upset it. A score or more who grabbed for the boat were beaten back by those already in possession who feared for their own safety if they permitted any more to weigh it. Finally we all saw another lifeboat with women and children in it. It wasn't full, however. We called to them and begged them to take us in. The seamen in charge refused, saying that the work of pulling them over the side of the boat would upset it. "A woman stood up and pleaded with the seamen. I afterward learned that this woman was Mrs. John Jacob Astor. After a time the sailors consented, but the men on the overturned boat were first taken off. Then I climbed on the deserted craft and was later taken into the safer one. "We had one man with jet black hair with us. He lost his wife and five children. After we were taken on board the Carpathia I saw that his hair had turned snow white. A short time later he died from exposure. " Gracie describes his voyage on collapsible B (He saw a mass of people in the wreckage, hundreds in number, and heard their awful cries.) Ernst describes a similar picture in his letter home and the Nordstjernan,a Swedish language newspaper, "You cannot imagine how it was as thousands of people lay in the water crying for help and no help was available. Ernst most gruesome memory was that wherever he swam, with every stroke his hands pushed against corpses with distorted faces, and they were so close that they almost made him lose his mind. Gracie continues, all my companions in shipwreck who made their escape with me on top of the bottom- side-up Engelhardt boat, must recall the anxious moment after the limit was reached when "about 30 men had clambered out of the water on to the boat." The weight of each additional body submerged our life craft more and more beneath the surface. There were men swimming in the water all about us. One more clambering aboard would have swamped our already crowded craft. The situation was a desperate one, and was only saved by the refusal of the crew, especially those at the stern of the boat, to take aboard another passenger. After pulling aboard the man who lay exhausted, face downward in front of me, I turned my head away from the sights in the water lest I should be called upon and have to refuse the pleading cries of those who were struggling for their lives. What happened at this juncture, therefore, my fellow companions in shipwreck can better describe. Steward Thomas Whiteley, interviewed by the New York Tribune, said: "I drifted near a boat wrong-side-up. About 30 men were clinging to it. They refused to let me get on. Somebody tried to hit me with an oar, but I scrambled on to her." Harry Senior, a fireman on the Titanic, as interviewed in the London Illustrated News of May 4th, and in the New York Times of April 10th is reported as follows: "On the overturned boat in question were, amongst others, Charles Lightoller, Second Officer of the Titanic; Col. Archibald Gracie, and Mr. J. B. Thayer, Jr., all of whom had gone down with the liner and had come to the surface again" ; and ''I tried to get aboard of her, but some chap hit me over the head with an oar. There were too many on her. I got around to the other side of the boat and climbed on. There were thirty- five of us, including the second officer, and no women. I saw any amount of drowning and dead around us." Bride's story in the same issue of the New York Times says: "It was a terrible sight all around — men swimming and sinking. Others came near. Nobody gave them a hand. The bottom-up boat already had more men than it would hold and was sinking. At first the large waves splashed over my clothing then they began to splash over my head and I had to breathe when I could." Though I did not see, I could not avoid hearing what took place at this most tragic crisis in all my life. The men with the paddles, forward and aft, so steered the boat as to avoid contact with the unfortunate swimmers pointed out struggling in the water. I heard the constant explanation made as we passed men swimming in the wreckage, "Hold on to what you have, old boy; one more of you aboard would sink us all." In no instance, I am happy to say, did I hear any word of rebuke uttered by a swimmer because of refusal to grant assistance. There was no case of cruel violence. But there was one transcendent piece of heroism that will remain fixed in my memory as the most sublime and coolest exhibition of courage and cheerful resignation to fate and fearlessness of death. This was when a reluctant refusal of assistance met with the ringing response in the deep manly voice of a powerful man, who, in his extremity, replied: "All right, boys; good luck and God bless you." I have often wished that the identity of this hero might be established and an individual tribute to his memory preserved. He was not an acquaintance of mine, for the tones of his voice would have enabled me to recognize him. Collins in his testimony and Hagan in his letter to me refer to the same incident, the former before the Senate Committee, saying: "All those who wanted to get on and tried to get on got on with the exception of only one. This man was not pushed off by anyone, but those on the boat asked him not to try to get on. We were all on the boat running [shifting our weight] from one side to the other to keep her steady. If this man had caught hold of her he would have tumbled the whole lot of us off. He acquiesced and said, 'that is all right, boys; keep cool; God bless you,' and he bade us good-bye." Hagan refers to the same man who "swam close to us saying, 'Hello boys, keep calm, boys,' asking to be helped up, and was told he could not get on as it might turn the boat over. He asked for a plank and was told to cling to what he had. It was very hard to see so brave a man swim away saying, 'God bless you.' " All this time our nearly submerged boat was amidst the wreckage and fast being paddled out of the danger zone whence arose the heart-rending cries already described of the struggling swimmers. It was at this juncture that expressions were used by some of the uncouth members of the ship's crew, which grated upon my sensibilities. The hearts of these men, as I presently discovered, were all right and they were far from meaning any offence when they adopted their usual slang, sounding harsh to my ears, and referred to our less fortunate shipwrecked companions as "the blokes swimming in the water." What I thus heard made me feel like an alien among my fellow boat mates, and I did them the injustice of believing that I, as the only passenger aboard, would, in case of diversity of interest, receive short shrift at their hands and for this reason I thought it best to have as little to say as possible. During all these struggles I had been uttering silent prayers for deliverance, and it occurred to me that this was the occasion of all others when we should join in an appeal to the Almighty as our last and only hope in life, and so it remained for one of these men, whom I had regarded as uncouth, a Roman Catholic seaman, to take precedence in suggesting the thought in the heart of everyone of us. He was astern and in arm's length of me. He first made inquiry as to the religion of each of us and found Episcopalians, Roman Catholics and Presbyterians. The suggestion that we should say the Lord's Prayer together met with instant approval, and our voices with one accord burst forth in repeating that great appeal to the Creator and Preserver of all mankind, and the only prayer that everyone of us knew and could unite in, thereby manifesting that we were all sons of God and brothers to each other whatever our sphere in life or creed might be. Recollections of this incident are embodied in my account as well as those of Bride and Thayer, independently reported in the New York papers on the morning after our arrival. This is what Bride recalls : "Somebody said 'don't the rest of you think we ought to pray?' The man who made the suggestion asked what the religion of the others was. Each man called out his religion. One was a Catholic, one a Methodist, one a Presbyterian. It was decided the most appropriate prayer for all of us was the Lord's Prayer. We spoke it over in chorus, with the man who first suggested that we pray as the leader." Referring to this incident in his sermon on "The Lessons of the Great Disaster," the Rev. Dr. Newell Dwight Hillis, of Plymouth Church, says: "When Col. Gracie came up, after the sinking of the Titanic, he says that he made his way to a sunken raft. The submerged little raft was under water often, but every man, without regard to nationality, broke into instant prayer. There were many voices, but they all had one signification, their sole hope was in God. There were no millionaires, for millions fell away like leaves; there were no poor; men were neither wise nor ignorant; they were simply human souls on the sinking raft; the night was black and the waves yeasty with foam, and the grave where the Titanic lay was silent under them, and the stars were silent over them ! But as they prayed, each man by that inner light saw an invisible Friend walking across the waves. Henceforth, these need no books on Apologetics to prove there is a God. This man who has written his story tells us that God heard the prayers of some by giving them death, and heard the prayers of others equally by keeping them in life; but God alone is great!" The lesson thus drawn from the incident described must be well appreciated by all my boat- mates who realized the utter helplessness of our position, and that the only hope we then had in life was in our God, and as the Rev. Dr. Hillis says: "In that moment the evanescent, transient, temporary things dissolved like smoke, and the big, permanent things stood out, God, Truth, Purity, Love, and Oh ! how happy those who were good friends with God, their conscience and their record." We all recognize the fact that our escape from a watery grave was due to the conditions of wind and weather. All night long we prayed that the calm might last. Towards morning the sea became rougher, and it was for the two-fold purpose of avoiding the ice-cold water,* and also to attract attention, that we all stood up in column, two abreast, facing the bow. The waves at this time broke over the keel, and we maintained a balance to prevent the escape of the small volume of air confined between sea and upset boat by shifting the weight of our bodies first to port and then to starboard. I believe that the life of everyone of us depended upon the preservation of this confined air-bubble, and our anxious thought was lest some of this air might escape and deeper down our overloaded boat would sink. Had the boat been completely turned over, compelling us to cling to the submerged gunwale, it could not have supported our weight, and we should have been frozen to death in the ice-cold water before rescue could reach us. My exertions had been so continuous and so strenuous before I got aboard this capsized boat that I had taken no notice of the icy temperature of the water. We all suffered severely from cold and exposure. The boat was so loaded down with the heavy weight and the temperature of the water was 28 degrees, and the air 27 degrees Fahrenheit, at midnight, April 14th. Per the American Inquiry "It carried that it became partly submerged, and the water washed up to our waists as we lay in our reclining position. Several of our companions near the stern of the boat, unable to stand the exposure and strain, gave up the struggle and fell off. After we had left the danger zone in the vicinity of the wreck, conversation between us first developed, and I heard the men aft of me discussing the fate of the Captain. At least two of them, according to their statements made at the time, had seen him on this craft of ours shortly after it was floated from the ship." Harry Senior the fireman, referring to the same overturned boat, said: "The Captain had been able to reach this boat. They had pulled him on, but he slipped off again." Still another witness, the entree cook of the Titanic, J. Maynard, who was on our boat, corroborates what I heard said at the time about the inability of the Captain to keep his hold on the boat. From several sources I have the information about the falling of the funnel, the splash of which swept from the upturned boat several who were first clinging thereto, and among the number possibly was the Captain. From the following account of Bride, it would appear he was swept off himself and regained his hold later. I saw a boat of some kind near me and put all my strength into an effort to swim to it. It was hard work. I was all done when a hand reached out from the boat and pulled me aboard. It was our same collapsible. The same crew was on it. There was just room for me to roll on the edge. I lay there, not caring what happened." Fortunately for us all, the majority of us were not thus exhausted or desperate. On the contrary, these men on this upset boat had plenty of strength and the purpose to battle for their lives. There were no beacon torches on crag and cliff; no shouts in the pauses of the storm to tell them there was hope; nor deep-toned bell with its loudest peal sending cheerily, o'er the deep, comfort to these wretched souls in their extremity. There were, however, lights forward and on the port side to be seen all the time until the Carpathia appeared. These lights were only those of the Titanic' s other lifeboats, and thus it was, as they gazed with eager, anxious eyes that "Fresh hope did give them strength and strength deliverance." The suffering on the boat from cold was intense. My neighbor in front, whom I had pulled aboard, Maturin's Bertram, must also have been suffering from exhaustion, but it was astern of us whence came later the reports about fellow boatmates who gave up the struggle and fell off from exhaustion, or died, unable to stand the exposure and strain. Among the number, we are told by Bride and Whiteley, was the senior Marconi operator, Phillips, but their statement that it was Phillips' lifeless body which we transferred first to a lifeboat and thence to the Carpathia is a mistake, for the body referred to both Lightoller and myself know to have been that of a member of the crew, as described later. Bride himself suffered severely. "Somebody sat on my legs," he says. "They were wedged in between slats and were being wrenched." When he reached the Carpathia he was taken to the hospital and on our arrival in New York was carried ashore with his "feet badly crushed and frostbitten." The combination of cold and the awful scenes of suffering and death which he witnessed from our upturned boat deeply affected another first cabin survivor, an Englishman, Mr. R. H. Barkworth, whose tender heart is creditable to his character. Another survivor of our upturned boat, James McGann, a fireman, interviewed by the New York Tribune on April 20th, says that he was one of the thirty of us, mostly firemen, clinging to it as she left the ship. As to the suffering endured that night he says: "All our legs were frostbitten and we were all in the hospital for a day at least." "Hagan" also adds his testimony as to the sufferings endured by our boat mates. He says: "One man on the upturned boat rolled off, into the water, at the stern, dead with fright and cold. Another died in the lifeboat." Here he refers to the lifeless body which we transferred, and finally put aboard the Carpathia, but which was not Phillips'. Lightoller testified: "I think there were three or four who died during the night aboard our boat. The Marconi junior operator told me that the senior operator was on this boat and died, presumably from cold." But the uncommunicative little member of the crew beside me did not seem to suffer much. He was like a number of others who were possessed of hats or caps — his was an outing cap; while those who sank under water had lost them. The upper part of his body appeared to be comparatively dry; so I believe he and some others escaped being drawn under with the Titanic by clinging to the Engelhardt boat from the outset when it parted company with the ship and was washed from the deck by the "giant wave." He seemed so dry and comfortable while I felt so damp in my waterlogged clothing, my teeth chattering and my hair wet with the icy water, that I ventured to requestthe loan of his dry cap to warm my head for a short while. "And what wad oi do?" was his curt reply. "Ah, never mind," said I, as I thought it would make no difference a hundred years hence. Poor chap, it would seem that all his possessions were lost when his kit went down with the ship. Not far from me and on the starboard side was a more loquacious member of the crew. I was not near enough, however, to him to indulge in any imaginary warmth from the fumes of the O-be-joyful spirits which he gave unmistakable evidence of having indulged in before leaving the ship. Most of the conversation, as well as excitement, came from behind me, astern. The names of other survivors who, besides those mentioned, escaped on the same nearly submerged life craft with me are recorded in the history of Boat B in chapter V, which contains the results of my research work in regard thereto. After we paddled away free from the wreckage and swimmers in the water that surrounded us, our undivided attention until the dawn of the next day was concentrated upon scanning the horizon in every direction for the lights of a ship that might rescue us before the sea grew rougher, for the abnormal conditions of wind and weather that prevailed that night were the causes of the salvation, as well as the destruction, of those aboard this ill-fated vessel. The absolute calm of the sea, while it militated against the detection of the iceberg in our path, at the same time made it possible for all of the lifeboats lowered from the davits to make their long and dangerous descent to the water without being smashed against the sides of the ship, or swamped by the waves breaking against them, for, notwithstanding newspaper reports to the contrary, there appears no authentic testimony of any survivor showing that any loaded boat in the act of being lowered was capsized or suffered injury. On the other hand, we have the positive statements accounting for each individual boatload, showing that every one of them was thus lowered in safety. But it was this very calm of the sea, as has been said, which encompassed the destruction of the ship. The beatings of the waves against the iceberg's sides usually give audible warning miles away to the approaching vessel, while the white foam at the base, due to the same cause, is also discernible. But in our case the beautiful star-lit night and cloudless sky, combined with the glassy sea, further facilitated the iceberg's approach with out detection, for no background was afforded against which to silhouette the deadly outline of this black appearing Protean monster which only looks white when the sun is shining upon it. All experienced navigators of the northern seas, as I am informed on the highest authority, knowing the dangers attending such conditions, invariably take extra precautions to avoid disaster. The Titanic's officers were no novices, and were well trained in the knowledge of this and all other dangers of the sea. From the Captain down, they were the pick of the best that the White Star Line had in its employ. Our Captain, Edward J. Smith, was the one always selected to "try out" each new ship of the Line, and was regarded, with his thirty-eight years of service in the company, as both safe and competent. Did he take any precautions for safety, in view of the existing dangerous conditions? Alas, as it appears from the testimony in regard thereto, taken before the Investigating Committee and Board in America and in England which we review in another chapter. And yet, warnings had been received on the Titanic's bridge from six different neighboring ships, one in fact definitely locating the latitude and longitude where the iceberg was encountered, and that too at a point of time calculated by one of the Titanic's officers. Who can satisfactorily explain this heedlessness of danger? It was shortly after we had emerged from the horrible scene of men swimming in the water that I was glad to notice the presence among us on the upturned boat of the same officer with whom all my work that night and all my experience was connected in helping to load and lower the boats on the Titanic's Boat Deck and Deck "A." I identified him at once by his voice and his appearance, but his name was not learned until I met him again later in my cabin on board the Carpathia — Charles H. Lightoller. For what he did on the ship that night whereby six or more boatloads of women and children were saved and discipline maintained aboard ship, as well as on the Engelhardt upturned boat, he is entitled to honor and the thanks of his own countrymen and of us Americans as well. As soon as he was recognized, the loquacious member of the crew astern, already referred to, volunteered in our behalf and called out to him "We will all obey what the officer orders." The result was at once noticeable. The presence of a leader among us was now felt, and lent us purpose and courage. The excitement at the stern was demonstrated by the frequent suggestion of, "Now boys, all together"; and then in unison we shouted, "Boat ahoy! Boat ahoy!" This was kept up for some time until it was seen to be a mere waste of strength. So it seemed to me, and I decided to husband mine and make provision for what the future, or the morrow, might require. After a while Lightoller, myself and others managed with success to discourage these continuous shouts regarded as a vain hope of attracting attention. When the presence of the Marconi boy at the stern was made known, Lightoller called out, from his position in the bow, questions which all of us heard, as to the names of the steamships with which he had been in communication for assistance. We on the boat recall the names mentioned by Bride — the Baltic, Olympic and Carpathia. It was then that the Carpathia's name was heard by us for the first time, and it was to catch sight of this sturdy little Cunarder that we strained our eyes in the direction whence she finally appeared. We had correctly judged that most of the lights seen by us belonged to our own Titanic's lifeboats, but Lightoller and all of us were badly fooled by the green-colored lights and rockets directly ahead of us, which loomed up especially bright at intervals. This, as will be noticed in a future chapter, was Third Officer Boxhall's Emergency Boat No. 2. We were assured that these were the lights of a ship and were all glad to believe it. There could be no mistake about it and our craft was navigated toward it as fast as its propelling conditions made possible; but it did not take long for us to realize that this light, whatever it was, was receding instead of approaching us. Some of our boat mates on the Titanic 's decks had seen the same white light and the argument was now advanced that it must have been a sailing ship, for a steamer would have soon come to our rescue; but a sailing ship would be prevented by wind, or lack of facilities in coming to our aid. I imagined that it was the lights of such a ship that we again saw on our port side astern in the direction where, when dawn broke, we saw the icebergs far away on the horizon. Some time before dawn a call came from the stern of the boat, "There is a steamer coming behind us." At the sametime a warning cry was given that we should not all look back at once lest the equilibrium of our precarious craft might be disturbed. Lightoller took in the situation and called out, "All you men stand steady and I will be the one to look astern." He looked, but there was no responsive chord that tickled our ears with hope. The incident just described happened when we were all standing up, facing forward in column, two abreast. Some time before this, for some undefined reason, Lightoller had asked the question, "How many are there of us on this boat?" and someone answered "thirty, sir." All testimony on the subject establishes this number. I may cite Lightoller, who testified: "I should roughly estimate about thirty. She was packed standing from stem to stern at daylight. We took all on board that we could. I did not see any effort made by others to get aboard. There were a great number of people in the water but not near us. They were some distance away us." Personally, I could not look around to count, but I know that forward of me there were eight and counting myself and the man abreast would make two more. As every bit of room on the Engelhardt bottom was occupied and as the weight aboard nearly submerged it, I believe that more than half our boatload was behind me. There is a circumstance that I recall which further establishes how closely packed we were. When standing up I held on once or twice to the life-preserver on the back of my boat mate in front in order to balance myself. At the same time and in the same way the man in my rear held on to me. This procedure, being objectionable to those concerned, was promptly discontinued. It was at quite an early stage that I had seen far in the distance the unmistakable mast lights of a steamer about four or five points away on the port side, as our course was directed toward the green- colored lights of the imaginary ship which we hoped was coming to our rescue, but which, in fact, was the already.mentioned Titanic lifeboat of Officer Boxhall. I recall our anxiety, as we had no lights, that this imaginary ship might not see us and might run over our craft and swamp us. But my eyes were fixed for hours that night on the lights of that steamer, far away in the distance, which afterwards proved to be those of the Carpathia. To my great disappointment, they seemed to make no progress towards us to our rescue. This we were told later was due to meeting an iceberg as she was proceeding full speed toward the scene of the Titanic' s wreck. She had come to a stop in sight of the lights of our lifeboats (or such as had them). The first boat to come to her sides was Boxhall's with its green lights. Finally dawn appeared and there on the port side of our upset boat where we had been looking with anxious eyes, glory be to God, we saw the steamer Carpathia about four or five miles away, with other Titanic lifeboats rowing towards her. But on our starboard side, much to our surprise, for we had seen no lights on that quarter, were four of the Titanic' 's lifeboats strung together in line. These were respectively Numbers 14, 10, 12 and 4, according to testimony submitted. Meantime, the water had grown rougher, and, as previously described, was washing over the keel and we had to make shift to preserve the equilibrium. Right glad were all of us on our upturned boat when in that awful hour the break of day brought this glorious sight to our eyes. Lightoller put his whistle to his cold lips and blew a shrill blast, attracting the attention of the boats about half a mile away. "Come over and take us off," he cried. "Aye, aye, sir," was the ready response as two of the boats cast off from the others and rowed directly towards us. Just before the bows of the two boats reached us, Lightoller ordered us not to scramble, but each to take his turn, so that the transfer might be made in safety. When my turn came, in order not to endanger the lives of the others, or plunge them into the sea, I went carefully, hands first, into the rescuing lifeboat. Lightoller remained to the last, lifting a lifeless body into the boat beside me. I worked over the body for some time, rubbing the temples and the wrists, but when I turned the neck it was perfectly stiff. Recognizing that rigor mortise had set in, I knew the man was dead. He was dressed like a member of the crew, and I recall that he wore gray woollen socks. His hair was dark. Our lifeboat was so crowded that I had to rest on this dead body until we reached the Carpathia, where he was taken aboard and buried. My efforts to obtain his name have been exhaustive, but futile. Lightoller was uncertain as to which one he was of two men he had in mind; but we both know that it was not the body of Phillips, the senior Marconi operator. In the lifeboat to which we were transferred were said to be sixty-five or seventy of us. The number was beyond the limit of safety. The boat sank low in the water, and the sea now became rougher. Lightoller assumed the command and steered at the stern. I was glad to recognize young Thayer amidships. There was a French woman in the bow near us actively ill but brave and considerate. She was very kind in loaning an extra steamer rug to Barkworth, by my side, who shared it with a member of the crew (a fireman perhaps) and myself. That steamer rug was a great comfort as we drew it over our heads and huddled close together to obtain some warmth. For a short time another Titanic lifeboat was towed by ours. My life-belt was wet and uncomfortable and I threw it overboard. Fortunately there was no further need of it for the use intended. I regret I did not preserve it as a relic. When we were first transferred and only two of the lifeboats came to our rescue, some took it hard that the other two did not also come to our relief, when we saw how few these others had aboard; but the officer in command of them, whom we afterwards knew as Fifth Officer Lowe, had cleverly rigged up a sail on his boat and, towing another astern, made his way to the Carpathia a long time ahead of us, but picked up on his way other unfortunates in another Engelhardt boat, Boat A, which had shipped considerable water. My research, particularly the testimony taken before the Senate Committee, establishes the identity of the Titanic lifeboats to which, at day, dawn, we of the upset boat were transferred. These were Boats No. 12 and No.4. #4 being the lifeboat that Gracie assisted Lightoller with at the last minutes before the Titanic was to sink, by loading the women and children into Lifeboat 4. One of the ladies Gracie lifted into the boat was the pregnant teenage wife of John Jacob Astor. Ernst said in a interview with the Chicago Daily News and The Lake County Times that Mrs. Astor Pleads with Men on lifeboat #4 to have all the survivors on collapsible B removed and placed safely into lifeboats 12 and 4, that after some time the sailors consented, but the men on the overturned boat were first taken off. Then Ernst climbed on the deserted craft and was later taken into the safer one. Gracie was in the one that Lightoller, Barkworth, Thayer, Jr., was in. Its not clear at this point witch of the two lifeboats Ernst was pulled into. But Gracie was in # 12, "YES this was it, the rich woman". Frederick Clench, able seaman, was in charge of boat #12, and his testimony, as follows, is interesting: "I looked along the water's edge and saw some men on a raft. Then I heard two whistles blown. I sang out, 'Aye, aye, I am coming over,' and we pulled over and found it was not a raft exactly, but an overturned boat, and Mr. Lightoller was there on that boat and I thought the wireless operator, too. We took them on board our boat and shared the amount of room. They were all standing on the bottom, wet through apparently. Mr. Lightoller took charge of us. Then we started ahead for the Carpathia. We had to row a tidy distance to the Carpathia because there were boats ahead of us and we had a boat in tow, with others besides all the people we had aboard. We were pretty well full up before, but the additional ones taken on made about seventy in our boat." This corresponds with Lightoller's testimony on J the same point. He says : "I counted sixty-five heads, not including myself, and none that were in the bottom of the boat. I roughly estimated about seventy-five in the boat, which was dangerously full, and it was all I could do to nurse her up to the sea." From Steward Cunningham's testimony I found a corroboration of my estimate of our distance, at day dawn, from the Carpathia. This he says "was about four or five miles." Another seaman, Samuel S. Hemming, who was in Boat No. 4, commanded by Quartermaster Perkis, also gave his testimony as follows : "As day broke we heard some hollering going on and we saw some men standing on what we thought was ice about half a mile away, but we found them on the bottom of an upturned boat. Two boats cast off and we pulled to them and took them in our two boats. There were no women or children on this boat, and I heard there was one dead body. SecondOfficer Lightoller was on the overturned boat. He did not get into our boat. Only about four or five got into ours and the balance of them went into the other boat." It seemed to me an interminable time before we reached the Carpathia. Ranged along her sides were others of the Titanic's lifeboats which had been rowed to the Cunarder and had been emptied of their loads of survivors. In one of these boats on the port side, standing up, I noticed my friend, Third Officer H. J. Pitman, with whom I had made my trip eastward on the Atlantic on board the Oceanic. All along the sides of the Carpathia were strung rope ladders. There were no persons about me needing my assistance, so I mounted the ladder, and, for the purpose of testing my strength, I ran up as fast as I could and experienced no difficulty or feeling of exhaustion. I entered the first hatchway I came to and felt like falling down on my knees and kissing the deck in gratitude for the preservation of my life. I made my way to the second cabin dispensary, where I was handed a hot drink. I then went to the deck above and was met with a warm reception in the dining saloon. Nothing could exceed the kindness of the ladies, who did everything possible for my comfort. All my wet clothing, overcoat and shoes, were sent down to the bake-oven to be dried. Being thus in lack of clothing, I lay down on the lounge in the dining saloon corner to the right of the entrance under rugs and blankets, waiting for a complete outfit of dry clothing. I am particularly grateful to a number of kind people on the Carpathia who helped replenish my wardrobe, but especially to Mr. Louis M. Ogden, a family connection and old friend. To Mrs. Ogden and to Mr. and Mrs. Spedden, who were on the Titanic, and to their boy's trained nurse, I am also most grateful. They gave me hot cordials and hot coffee which soon warmed me up and dispersed the cold. Among the Carpathia' s passengers, bound for the Mediterranean, I discovered a number of friends of Mrs. Gracie's and mine — Miss K. Steele, sister of Charles Steele, of New York, Mr. and Mrs. Charles H. Marshall and Miss Marshall, of New York. Leaning over the rail of the port side I saw anxiously gazing down upon us many familiar faces of fellow survivors, and, among them, friends and acquaintances to whom I waved my hand as I stood up in the bow of my boat. This boat No. 12 was the last to reach the Carpathia and her passengers transferred about 8.30 a. m.

Ernst said aboard the Carpathia "We had one man with jet black hair with us. He lost his wife and five children. After we were taken on board the Carpathia I saw that his hair had turned snow white. A short time later he died from exposure." and "On the boat that rescued us, we were bedded down and could rest two days. Then we had to get up and try to dry our clothes because nobody cared to help us with that. We didn't arrive in New York until Thursday night and the disaster occurred on Sunday night. So you can imagine how far we were from land. The boat rescuing us was a real pigsty. It was a boat traveling on Italy with only swarthy passengers. So then you can understand how it was. But we were satisfied to be out of the water." In Ernst letter home he said that We were well received when we arrived in New York. Three of us had no caps or overcoats, and we were let in first and got dressed from top to toe and received 15 dollars, because I had not a single penny when I disembarked. Now we can stay at this hotel where we get good food and nice rooms, free of charge. All societies and theaters collect money for us, so we probably get more money after a while. So don't worry about me. I feel well though I feared that I would not be able to withstand the (cold) 'bath'. My whole body was stiff when I came up and ends the letter with "Well, now my beloved, I have given you a brief report about what happened. You will get more information later on because it is impossible to put any more of these sheets in the envelope, and I don't have any other paper. I hope you are all healthy and don't grieve too much so that you become ill from it. I will find work and save money because I will probably come home again. I will not expose my beloved wife and children to the same voyage that I went on. So farewell for a while. I shall write as soon as I arrive in Chicago. You will then get my address, so I can hear from you. My warm greetings and solace to you my beloved in Sweden from your castaway son, husband, and father of our small boys.

Ernst

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