between laughs, he would suddenly fall grave and
glance, you might say, back over a shoulder towards Dunallan and Ardara
far off near Strangford Lough.

"I was talking to him on the Friday night as he was going into dinner,"
writes Miss Sloan, in a letter dated from the _Lapland_ on April 27th.
"The dear old Doctor[4] was waiting for him on the stair-landing, and
calling him by his Christian name, Tommy. Mr. Andrews seemed loth to go,
he wanted to talk about home; he was telling me his father was ill and
Mrs. Andrews not so well. I was congratulating him on the beauty and
perfection of the ship; he said the part he did not like was that the
_Titanic_ was taking us further away from home every hour. I looked at
him and his face struck me as having a very sad expression."

[4] Dr. W. F. N. O'Loughlin, Senior Surgeon of the White Star
Line, a close friend of Andrews and his companion on many
voyages. Some lines which he helped to write have been quoted.
Soon after the ship struck he said to Miss Sloan--"child, things
are very bad," and went to his death bravely. His Assistant,
Dr. T. E. Simpson, son of an eminent Belfast physician, and
himself a physician of much promise, died with him.

One other glimpse we have of him, then in that brief time of triumph,
whilst yet the good ship of his which everyone praised was speeding
Westwards, "in perfectly clear and fine weather," towards the place
where "was no moon, the stars were out, and there was not a cloud in the
sky."[5] For more than a week he had been working at such pressure, that
by the Friday evening many saw how tired as well as sad he looked: but
by the Sunday evening, when his ship was as perfect, so he said, as
brains could make her, he was himself again. "I saw him go in to
dinner," said Miss Sloan, "he was in good spirits, and I thought he
looked splendid."

[5] Report of Mersey Commission, p. 29.

An hour or two afterwards he went aft to thank the baker for some
special bread he had made for him; then back to his stateroom, where
apparently he changed into working clothes, and sat down to write.

He was still writing, it would seem, when the Captain called him.

VIII.

On the night of Sunday, 14th April, at 11 40 ship's time, in clear fine
weather, near Latitude 41 deg. 46' N., Longitude 50 deg. 14' W., the _Titanic_
collided with the submerged spur of an iceberg and ripped her starboard
side ten feet above the l