r of
the Carpathia called down that 710 of the Titanic's passengers were on
board, but refused to reply to other questions.

The heavy hawsers were made fast without the customary shouting of
ship's officers and pier hands. From the crowd on the pier came a long,
shuddering murmur. In it were blended sighs and hundreds of whispers.
The burden of it all was: "Here they come."

ANXIOUS MEN AND WOMEN

About each gangplank a portable fence had been put in place, marking
off some fifty feet of the pier, within which stood one hundred or more
customs officials. Next to the fence, crowded close against it, were
anxious men and women, their gaze strained for a glance of the first
from the ship, their mouths opened to draw their breaths in spasmodic,
quivering gasps, their very bodies shaking with suppressed excitement,
excitement which only the suspense itself was keeping in subjection.

These were the husbands and wives, children, parents, sweethearts and
friends of those who had sailed upon the Titanic on its maiden voyage.

They pressed to the head of the pier, marking the boats of the wrecked
ship as they dangled at the side of the Carpathia and were revealed in
the sudden flashes of the photographers upon the tugs. They spoke
in whispers, each group intent upon its own sad business. Newspaper
writers, with pier passes showing in their hat bands, were everywhere.

A sailor hurried outside the fence and disappeared, apparently on a
mission for his company. There was a deep-drawn sigh as he walked away,
shaking his head toward those who peered eagerly at him. Then came a
man and woman of the Carpathia's own passengers, as their orderly dress
showed them to be.

Again a sigh like a sob swept over the crowd, and again they turned back
to the canopied gangplank.

THE FIRST SURVIVORS

Several minutes passed and then out of the first cabin gangway; tunneled
by a somber awning, streamed the first survivors. A young woman,
hatless, her light brown hair disordered and the leaden weight of
crushing sorrow heavy upon eyes and sensitive mouth, was in the van. She
stopped, perplexed, almost ready to drop with terror and exhaustion, and
was caught by a customs official.

"A survivor?" he questioned rapidly, and a nod of the head answering
him, he demanded:

"Your name."

The answer given, he started to lead her toward that section of the pier
where her friends would be waiting.

When she stepped from the gangplank the