Whenever men speak of tragedies of the sea, the story of La Bourgogne, the French Line steamship, which was sunk in collision with the British ship Cromartyshire, is always recalled. The conduct of the French sailors upon that occasion is held up as a shining example of what the behavior of a crew should not be. It even appears more reprehensible in the light of comparison with the heroism and noble sacrifices of the male passengers and crew who went down with the Titanic.

  There were 584 persons drowned in the wreck, and only one woman was saved. She was saved by her husband, who seems to have been the only man in all that great company who showed his manhood in the face of that overwhelming disaster.

  This hero was Adrien Lacasse, a young French teacher, of Plainfield, N.J. He died three years ago in New York, pneumonia being given as the immediate cause of death. His friends know that the horrors through which he had gone so weakened his constitution that he could not withstand the illness.

  Mrs. Victoire Lacasse is living quietly in this city with her son Robert, who was born after the disaster.

  Time has not erased the lines left by the tragedy in her face, and only a glance at that sad, patient face tells the story of her suffering.

  Since the news of the wreck of the Titanic came she has not dared to remain alone with her thoughts, but has always had some friend near her when it was possible, and when it was not has found comfort in talking to them over the telephone.

  Mrs. Lacasse has written the story of the Bourgogne. She has taken occasion in this story to protest against the "rule of the sea" which provides for "women and children first."

  On the contrary, she believes that it should be "families first," and says that she would rather have gone down with her husband than have been saved without him. Mrs. Lacasse's story follows:

  I have read only the headlines about the wreck of the Titanic. That is all that I had to read. The rest I know. I can see all the things that happened aboard the big funeral ship as vividly as if I had been aboard her when she collided head-on with the iceberg.

WENT DOWN OFF SABLE ISLAND.

  I can even picture the ocean, the day and all the surroundings, because, as many will recall, it was just off Sable Island that La Bourgogne went to her grave on July 4, 1898, the same day that all America was rejoicing over its victory in the Spanish-American War.

  I have the most heartfelt sympathy for the bereaved, unfortunate survivors of this last terrible wreck. It has always seemed to me a great mistake to compel women and children to be saved first. How much better it would be to save entire families than to have so many widows and children.

  I know that I should have preferred going down with my husband to being saved without him. The women and children from the Titanic, who have just passed through this ordeal of being separated from their husbands and fathers, stepping into little boats and looking back on their loved ones for the last time, must feel just as I do.

  Why should the rule of the sea supersede the marriage vow, "until death do us part."

  The story of La Bourgogne has been told and retold so often, and there have been so many different versions of the wreck, that I do not believe that the public understand the truth yet. For one thing, I think too much stress has been laid upon the alleged brutality of the crew.

  While it is undoubtedly true that they were untrained and undisciplined, and were not at their proper stations, I don't believe that they fought back the women and children with their knives. It was the men in the steerage who did these things.

  We boarded La Bourgogne on Saturday, July 2, from New York. The steamship was bound for Havre. My husband, who, I may mention, had served ten years in the French navy, wanted to spend the summer months with his parents.

  The first two days we had beautiful weather. Sunday night I could not sleep, recalling the stories of the passengers as I did. At one o'clock on Monday morning I awakened my husband, telling him that I heard a foghorn.

THERE WAS NOTHING TO FEAR.

  He laughed and tried to comfort me by saying that we had a good boat and that Captain Deloncle was a good captain and there was nothing to fear. I insisted and told him that I wou1d not to go to sleep unless he went up on deck to make certain that everything was all right.

  My husband dressed himself and went up on deck. He did not come down to our cabin again until half-past four and then he threw himself, all dressed, upon the bed. I called to him again that I heard the foghorn, which had been blowing all that time. He went to the port hole to look out.

  He had hardly done so when the crash came and he was thrown violently on his back. He was on his feet in a minute, and half dragged me out of bed. Then he put a life preserver on me and another on himself. Then we both went on deck, my husband taking several other life preservers with him and leaving them on the deck for others. Some men from the steerage saw us and evidently thought that we had the best life preservers, because they came at us with their knives. I screamed and they went away.

  Meanwhile some sailors and passengers were trying to launch boats on the other side of the ship. My husband tried to help them, but there was no use. The ship was listing too much.

  I cannot describe much of what happened on board after this, as my husband cried to me to close my eyes if I would keep my senses. I do remember hearing the captain shouting orders, but I don't believe they were being obeyed. We ran to the stern and climbed aboard a raft.

  Immediately after this the raft slipped from under us into the water and left us hanging on the rail of the steamer. Then we both fell into the water backwards. My husband swam to the raft with me. He climbed on it first and then dragged me up after him.

EVERYONE FIGHTING EVERYONE ELSE.

  We were the first people on the raft, but it wasn't long before we were surrounded by the men from the boats. Everyone was fighting everyone else to get on the raft and to keep the others from getting on.

  It was more horrible than the most realistic nightmare. About twenty men had managed to get on our raft, which was built to hold ten.

  The buoys of the raft were already under water and the raft was nearly sinking. An old man swam to us. The men shouted to push him off if he tried to get on, but my husband wouldn't do it and pulled him on board.

  He was a Mr. Achard, of Baltimore, and had lost his wife, his son and his daughter in the wreck.

  We were drifting helplessly around, no one knowing what to do, when my husband said that there must be a pair of oars on the raft. He felt underneath and found a pair, so the men were able to row out of danger.

  The ship first went down up to the stern, but righted up. Then the bow arose above the water almost like a porpoise. The ship went slowly down. We saw the captain on his bridge.

  We saw the water come up and up until it almost reached him. Then we heard a pistol shot. Many people thought that he had shot himself, but it was simply his last call for help. He went down with his boat. It had been just forty minutes after the collision that La Bourgogne took her final dive. Then suddenly men, women and children, some of them still alive, were spouted out like sticks in a boiling volume. Those poor creatures, those who had the strength, would swim to the rafts and beg to be taken aboard, and, being denied, turn and disappear into the ocean.

  Presently the sun broke through the heavy fog and the great curtain lifted. The surface of the ocean, which had been disturbed by great swells, became as calm as a millpond. It was a beautiful summer's day. There was nothing to indicate that a great tragedy had just been enacted on these waters.

NEARLY AN HOUR BEFORE RELIEF CAME.

  Our men pulled at the oars and after some hours we came in sight of the Cromartyshire. There were two boats from La Bourgogne tied to her stern, but it was nearly an hour before they sent a boat for us. When they did I would not get into one and they towed us to the side, where I was helped aboard.

  When wireless telegraphy was discovered I thought that great wrecks would be impossible, but the fate of the Titanic has shown us differently. We must rely upon lifeboats and life preservers. I think every person should learn how to put on a life preserver when he goes on board a vessel. He can not learn when the ship starts to sink. My husband said that nearly all could have been saved from La Bourgogne if they bad put on life belts and kept cool.

  Adrien Lacasse was greeted as a returning hero. On his trip through Canada to this city, he was besieged by people who wanted to see him and shake hands with him. He pulled down the shade of the window in his car to avoid notoriety. The crowds shook hands with an American woman, who sat behind him, believing that she was Mrs. Lacasse.

  Mothers named their babies after him, and from all corners of the earth came letters of praise. He was a hero because he kept cool, and was the only man who did. The heroes of the Titanic can not be counted. They all kept their heads, so far as is known, but their only reward was the knowledge that they had not been cowards in the face of death.

  Standing in a circle in the engine room of the Titanic as she went down, with hands clasping those of their comrades and all praying, the gallant thirty-three engine men of the wounded vessel met their death.

  The tragic story of their bravery in the face of what they must have known was certain death was told by Thomas Hardy, chief steward of the Titanic, as he left for England, a passenger on board the Red Star Line steamship Lapland.

SCENE THAT HARDY WITNESSED.

  His voice breaking with emotion, Hardy told the story of the scene that he and other stewards witnessed from the galleries overlooking the engine room.

  "When the order that every man should take his post, as the vessel was sinking, was sent through the Titanic," said Hardy, "there were eleven men on duty in the hold.

  "The twenty others, without the least hesitancy, came hurrying to their posts beside the engines and dynamos. They must have known as well as Captain Smith that the Titanic was going down, for when they arrived in the engine room the water was rising over the floor. There was nothing for them to do but to keep the dynamos running.

  "Not one of them moved to quit their posts and not one would have dared to, even they had been willing, in the face of the stern men who had chosen to die there. Yet they could be of no use, for the Titanic was going down then.

  "The water was rising about them when I looked down from a gallery. I saw the little circle of Chief Engineer Bell and sixteen of his men standing there in the water with their lips moving in prayer. I pray that I may never see the like of it again; it was real heroism."

  Perhaps one of the clearest stories of the disaster was told by Albert Smith, steward of the Titanic. Smith was one of the number of six members of the crew of the sunken liner who manned boat No. 11, which carried fifty women and no men other than the half dozen necessary to row it to safety.

  "From the time that the first boat pushed off," he said, "until ten minutes before the Titanic sank, the band was playing. They played light music, waltzes and popular airs at first.

  "The last thing they played was 'Nearer, My God, to Thee.' The voices of the men on board joining in the singing came perfectly clear over the water. It was so horrible it was unbelievable. You kept thinking you would wake up.

  "I saw First Officer Murdock, of the Titanic, shoot himself. It was Murdock who was on the bridge when the ship struck.

DID NOT THINK IT SERIOUS.

  "I was in my bunk when the crash came. It was not much of a shock. Of course, 1 knew something had happened, but it never dawned on me there was anything serious.

  "I threw on a few clothes, hurriedly, though according to drill, and went to boat No. 11, which was my place in case of emergency. I stood there until one of the officers came by and said there was no danger and that the men might return to their bunks. I was partly undressed again when the second call came.

  "I went back to my post at No. 11 and we prepared to lower the small boats. We had made 565 miles during the day and the Titanic was running at the rate of twenty-three knots an hour when she struck. My boat station was on the promenade deck. I want to say right here that there was no confusion or panic while the boats were being filled.

  "As a matter of fact, there was no particular rush for the boats, because it did not enter the heads of any at first that the Titanic could actually sink.

  "Many believed it was safer to stay on board the big liner, even wounded as she was, than to trust themselves to the boats. When we had filled our boat we lowered. We had about fifty women with us, which crowded our small craft, so that we were only able to man our oars very slowly and clumsily. In consequence of this we were not more than a half mile from the Titanic when she sunk.

  "We saw her plainly all the time, and whatever anybody else may say, believe me, her lights were gleaming until about five minutes before she went down. The night was clear and cold and calm and so bright that the many stirs were reflected in the sea.

  "We put off into a field of small ice. The berg we had struck was plainly visible. The Titanic struck a large, jagged, submerged portion of the berg, on the port side; as she slowly slid back and away from the mountain of ice it passed her on the starboard side and went slowly on its way.

IT WAS APPALLING.

  "As I say, we rowed slowly because of our heavy cargo. The Titanic settled slowly at first. When she got going, though, she went rapidly. It was appalling. I do not think any of us really believed until her final lurch that she would actually sink.

  "She started to go down bow first. She dove like that until her propeller was out of water. Everybody rushed to the stern of the boat. You could see them climbing and clinging to the higher places. Suddenly the Titanic gave a frightful lurch. Hundreds of those on the stern were flung into the air.

  "They looked like a swarm of bees; little and black. Then the Titanic broke, snapped in the middle and the boilers blew up and the engines dropped out with a frightful noise. She sank practically in two pieces, broken directly in half. There was little or no swirl or intake. I do not think any of the boats were drawn down.

  "Murdock stood on the promenade deck when the last boat pushed off. Captain Smith bad taken charge of the bridge. Murdock put a pistol to his right temple and fired. I saw him do it. And I saw him drop.

  "Now I have just one dollar and twenty-five cents left tied up in a corner of my handkerchief. I was going to take that to cable one word. It will cost me one dollar to cable "Safe," but I have a mother who is walking the streets of London waiting for that one word."

  The survivors of the Titanic are still paving a tribute without precedent to the bravery of the men and women of the wrecked liner, steerage passenger, stoker and millionaire.

  Major Archibald Butt, U.S.A., military aide to President Taft, met his death in a manner that fully justified the President's estimation of him as expressed in the eulogy given out at the White House, in which the President tenderly referred to his late aide as a man "gentle and considerate," and as one who was "every inch a soldier."

MAJOR BUTT AN OFFICER OF THE TITANIC.

  From the moment that Captain Smith let it be known to his officers and a few of the men passengers that the Titanic was doomed, Major Butt was an officer of the Titanic.

  He was here and there and everywhere, giving words of encouragement to weeping women and children, and uttering, when necessary, commands to keep weak-kneed men from giving in and rendering the awful situation even more terrible.

  That this was the manner in which Major Butt met death is certain. Captain Charles E. Crain, of the Twenty-seventh United States Infantry, was a passenger on the Carpathia, and when he learned that Major Butt was among the dead, he made it his duty to get the true tale of his comrade's death.

  "Naturally," said Captain Crain, "I was deeply concerned in the fate of Major Butt, for he was not only a fellow-officer of the army; but also a personal friend of many years' standing.

  "I questioned those of the survivors who were in a condition to talk, and from them I learned that Butt, when the Titanic struck, took his position with the officers and from the moment that the order to man the lifeboats was given until the last one was dropped into the sea, he aided in the maintenance of discipline and the placing of the women and children in the boats.

  "Butt, I was told, was as cool as the iceberg that had doomed the ship, and not once did he lose control of himself. In the presence of death he was the same gallant, courteous officer that the American people had learned to know so well as a result of his constant attendance upon President Taft.

  "There was never any chance of Butt getting into any of those lifeboats. He knew his time was at hand, and he was ready to meet it as a man should, and I and all of the others who cherish his memory are glad that he faced the situation that way, which was the only possible way a man of his calibre could face it."

  "This is a man's game, and I will play it to the end," was the word that Benjamin Guggenheim, the millionaire smelter magnate, sent to his wife from the ill-fated Titanic.

NO CHANCE OF ESCAPING.

  The message was delivered to the stricken widow by John Johnson, the room steward, to whom it was given. Guggenheim, Johnson said, realized almost from the beginning that there was no chance of escaping. He sent for Johnson, who he knew was an expert swimmer, and for his secretary, and asked them if they should be saved to get word to Mrs. Guggenheim.

  "Tell her, Johnson," the steward relates, "that I played the game straight and that no woman was left on board this ship because Benjamin Guggenheim was a coward. Tell her that my last thoughts were of her and the girls."

  Guggenheim, according to Johnson, lit a cigar and sauntered up to the boat deck to help load the lifeboats. He afterward returned to the main deck and was engulfed with the ship.

  "Mr. Guggenheim was one of my charges," said the steward anew. "He had his secretary with him. His name was Giglio, I believe, an Armenian, about twenty-four years old. Both died like men.

  "When the crash came I awakened them and told them to get dressed. A few minutes later I went into their rooms and helped them to get ready. I put a life preserver on Mr. Guggenheim. He said it hurt him in the back. There was plenty of time and I took it off, adjusted it, and then put it on him again. It was all right this time.

  "They wanted to get out on deck with only a few clothes on, but I pulled a heavy sweater over Mr. Guggenheim's lifebelt, and then they both went out.

  "They stayed together and I could see what they were doing. They were going from one lifeboat to another helping the women and children. Mr. Guggenheim would shout out, 'Women first,' and he was of great assistance to the officers.

THERE WAS GREAT EXCITEMENT.

  "Things weren't so bad at first, but when I saw Mr. Guggenheim about three-quarters of an hour after the crash there was great excitement. What surprised me was that both Mr. Guggenheim and his secretary were dressed in their evening clothes.

  They had deliberately taken off their sweaters, and as nearly as I can remember they wore no lifebelts at all.

  "'What's that for?' I asked.

  "'We've dressed up in our best,' replied Mr. Guggenheim, 'and are prepared to go down like gentlemen.' It was then he told me about the message to his wife and that is what I have come here for.

  "Well, shortly after the last few boats were lowered and I was ordered by the deck officer to man an oar, I waved good-bye to Mr. Guggenheim, and that was the last I saw of him and his secretary."

  Taking refuge on the bridge of the ill- fated Titanic, two little children remained by the side of Captain Smith until that portion of the big ship had been swept by water. Survivors of the crew who went down with the Titanic, but were saved by clinging to an over turned lifeboat, told of their gallant commander's effort to save the life of one of the children. He died a sailor's death, and the little girl who had intrusted her life to his care died with him.

  "He held the little girl under one arm," said James McGann, a fireman, "as he jumped into the sea and endeavored to reach, the nearest lifeboat with the child. I took the other child into my arms as I was swept from the bridge deck. When I plunged into the cold water I was compelled to release my hold on the child, and I am satisfied that the same thing happened to Captain Smith.

  "I had gone to the bridge deck to assist in lowering a collapsible boat. The water was then coming over the bridge, and we were unable to launch the boat properly. It was overturned and was used as a life raft, some thirty or more of us, mostly firemen, clinging to it. Captain Smith looked as though he was trying to keep back the tears as he thought of the doomed ship.

EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF.

  "He turned to the men lowering the boat and shouted: 'Well, boys, it's every man for himself.' He then took one of the children standing by him on the bridge and jumped into the sea. He endeavored to reach the overturned boat, but did not succeed. That was the last I saw of Captain Smith."

  Other graphic accounts of the final plunge of the Titanic were related by two Englishmen, survivors by the merest chance. One of them struggled for hours to hold himself afloat on an overturned collapsible lifeboat, to one end of which John B. Thayer, Jr., of Philadelphia, whose father perished hung until rescued.

  The men give their names as A.H. Barkworth, justice of the peace of East Riding' , Yorkshire, England, and W.J. Mellors, of Christ Church Terrace, Chelsea, London. The latter, a young man, had started for this country with his savings to seek his fortune, and lost all but his life.

  Mellors says Captain Smith, of the Titanic, did not commit suicide. The captain jumped from the bridge, Mellors declares, and he heard him say to his officers and crew: "You have done your duty, boys. Now every man for himself."

  Mellors and Barkworth, both declare there were three distinct explosions before the Titanic broke in two, and bow section first, and stern part last, settled with her human cargo into the sea.

  Her four whistles kept up a deafening blast until the explosions, declare the men. The death cries from the shrill throats of the blatant steam screechers beside the smokestacks so rent the air that conversation among the passengers was possible only when one yelled into the car of a fellow unfortunate.

  "I did not know the Thayer family well," declared Mr. Barkworth, "but I had met young Thayer, a clean-cut chap, and his father on the trip. I did not see Mr. Thayer throw his son from the ship, but the lad and I struggled in the water for several hours endeavoring to hold afloat by grabbing to the sides and end of an overturned lifeboat.

KEPT AFLOAT BY FUR OVERCOAT.

  "I consider my fur overcoat helped to keep me afloat. I had a life preserver under it, under my arms, but it would not have held me up so well out of the water but for the coat. The fur of the coat seemed not to get wet through and retained a certain amount of air that added to buoyancy. I shall never part with it.

  "The testimony of J. Bruce Ismay, managing director of the White Star Line, that he had not heard explosions before the Titanic settled, indicates that he must have gotten some distance from her in his lifeboat.

  "There were three distinct explosions and the ship broke in the centre. The bow settled headlong first and the stern last. I was looking toward her from the raft to which young Thayer and I had clung.

  "I thought I was doomed to go down with the rest. I stood on the deck, awaiting my fate, fearing to jump from the ship. Then came a grinding noise, followed by two others, and I was hurled into the deep. Great waves engulfed me, but I was not drawn toward the ship, so that I believe there was little suction. I swam about for more than one hour before I was picked up by a boat."

  Confirming the statements made by J. Bruce Ismay, managing director of the White Star Line, before the Senatorial Investigating Committee in New York, William E. Carter, of Philadelphia, who was saved, together with his wife and two children, declared that J. Bruce Ismay had not acted like a coward but instead had aided in placing women and children in the boats and had gotten into the last one himself only after he had failed to find any more women after calling for several minutes.

  Mr. Carter related his experience on the Titanic from the time the ship struck the mountain of ice until he left the ill-fated vessel on the last lifeboat a short time before she went to her doom.

UNJUST TO MR. ISMAY.

  Mr. Carter declared that the statements which have been made by many persons regarding Mr. Ismay's conduct were an injustice to him and added that the head of the White Star Line felt extremely sad following the collision and the subsequent sinking of the world's largest steamer.

  He said that while the lifeboat containing himself and Ismay was moving away from the Titanic, Ismay rowed with two seamen and himself until they sighted the Carpathia.

  One of the most interesting statements made by Mr. Carter was that a short time before he left the ship he spoke to Harry E. Widener and advised him to get into one of the boats if he could. Mr. Widener replied: "I think I'll stick to the big ship, Billy, and take a chance."

  Relating his experiences, Mr. Carter said: "I was in the smoking room for several hours prior to the collision with Major Archie Butt, Colonel Gracie, Harry Widener, Mr. Thayer, Clarence Moore, of Washington; William Dulles and several other men.

  At exactly seventeen minutes to 12 o'clock we felt a jar and left the room to see what the trouble was outside. We were told that the ship had struck an iceberg. Many of the men were in the card room, and after learning what had happened returned to their games.

  The officers informed us that the accident was not a serious one, and there was little excitement at the time. However, I went to the lower deck, where Mrs. Carter and my two children were sleeping. I awoke my wife and told her what had occurred and advised her to dress and take the children to the deck.

  "I then returned to the upper deck and found that the crew were lowering lifeboats containing women and children. When Mrs. Carter and the children came up I had them placed in one of the boats, which also contained Mrs. Astor, Mrs. Widener, Mrs. Thayer and several other women.

WATER POURING INTO THE SHIP.

  "I believed at the time that they would all return to the steamer in a short time, feeling certain that there was no danger. A few minutes later, however, I learned that water was pouring into the ship and that she was in a serious condition. I saw Harry Widener and walked to where he was standing on the port side of the Titanic. An order had been given before the boats were launched to put on lifebelts, and I had adjusted one around myself.

  "I said to Mr. Widener, 'Come on, Harry, let us go to the starboard side and see if there is any chance to get in one of the boats.' He replied, 'I think I'll stick to the big ship, Billy, and take a chance.' I left him there and went to the starboard side of A deck.

   "There I saw Mr. Ismay and several officers filling the boats with women. I aided them in the work, and as the last boat was being filled we looked around for more women.

  "The women that were in the boat were from the steerage with their children. I guess there were about 40 of them. Mr. Ismay and myself and several of the officers walked up and down the deck crying, 'Are there any more women here?' We called for several minutes and got no answer.

  "One of the officers then declared that if we wanted to we could get into the boat if we took the place of seamen. He gave us this preference because we were among the first-class passengers.

  "Mr. Ismay called again and after we got no reply we got into the lifeboat. We took the oars and rowed with the two seamen. We were about a mile away from the Titanic when she went down. It seemed to me that it was less than a half hour.

  All the women were clad in thin clothes while I was in my evening clothes, without a hat, and had on a pair of slippers. The night was a dark one despite the fact that the stars were out. I looked around just as the Titanic went down, being attracted by the explosions. Mr. Ismay did not turn and look but instead was very quiet, pulling on the oars.

THE CARPATHIA SIGHTED.

  "I don't know how long we were in the boat. It seemed to be several hours before we sighted the Carpathia. One of the women saw the steamer with her lights standing out in the darkness. We then started toward her. All this time I was fearing for my family, not knowing how they fared after leaving the Titanic in the lifeboat.

  "We reached the side of the Carpathia before dawn and were taken aboard and given food and warmed. I do not know what became of Mr. Ismay, for I saw my wife and children and hurried toward them. I can tell you I was happy at that moment.

  "On board the Carpathia we were taken care of excellently and treated fine by the officers and passengers. As we were among the first taken aboard we were given a little room. My wife and little girl slept in the bunk, while I slept on the floor. It was a terrible experience and one I never want to go through again.

  "It was my intention, if I could not get into one of the boats, to leap from the hurricane deck and swim to one of the boats.

  "During the trip across I did not see any lifeboat drills, but this may have been due to the fact that the members of the crew were new to the boat and the fact that the officers thought her perfectly safe. I believe that many more could have been saved if there had been more boats.

  "The men seemed to think that there was no immediate danger, and I myself did not know whether to get into the boat with Mr. Ismay or not until he said, 'Come on, you might as well get aboard.'

  "I desire to correct what has been said about him. He was perfectly cool and collected and aided a great deal in keeping the women from the steerage quiet. I will probably be called before, the Senatorial investigating committee, and I can only say that', Mr. Ismay only left the boat after he saw there were no more women on the deck.

  "He called and so did I and we found none. I heard no shooting while I was on the Titanic, but do not know what happened after I left on the last boat."

  "Billy" Carter, his ten-year- old son, told of his experience after he was awakened by his mother and dressed.

  "Mamma woke me just after it happened," he said "and papa; hurried to our rooms. While mamma and sister were dressing I got dressed as quickly as I could. She told me to be a brave boy, and we all went to the upper deck.

  "All the women were on one side and the men on the other. The officers held revolvers in their hands. We were placed in one of the boats and rowed around for an awful long time until everybody began to worry and think we would not be picked up. Mamma helped to row our boat, and in the morning we sighted the big ship Carpathia and were taken on board. I felt cold, but we soon got warm and got something to eat. Then a short time later papa came on board."