hia_.
And at last, when all the names had been spelled out, and interrogated,
and corrected, the grim total of the figures stood out in appalling
significance--seven hundred and three saved, one thousand five hundred
and three lost.

It is not possible, nor would it be very profitable, to describe the
scenes that took place on these days of waiting, the alternations of
hope and grief, of thankfulness and wild despair, of which the shipping
offices were the scene. They culminated on the Thursday evening when
the _Carpathia_ arrived in New York. The greatest precautions had been
taken to prevent the insatiable thirst for news from turning that solemn
disembarkation into a battlefield. The entrance to the dock was
carefully guarded, and only those were admitted who had business there
or who could prove that they had relations among the rescued passengers.
Similar precautions were taken on the ship; she was not even boarded by
the Custom officials, nor were any reporters allowed on board, although
a fleet of steam launches went out in the cold rainy evening to meet
her, bearing pressmen who were prepared to run any risks to get a
footing on the ship. They failed, however, and the small craft were left
behind in the mist, as the _Carpathia_ came gliding up the Hudson.

Among the waiting crowd were nurses, doctors, and a staff of ambulance
men and women; for all kinds of wild rumours were afloat as to the
condition of those who had been rescued. The women of New York had
devoted the days of waiting to the organization of a powerful relief
committee, and had collected money and clothing on an ample scale to
meet the needs of those, chiefly among the steerage passengers, who
should find themselves destitute when they landed. And there, in the
rain of that gloomy evening, they waited.

At last they saw the _Carpathia_ come creeping up the river and head
towards the White Star pier. The flashlights of photographers were
playing about her, and with this silent salute she came into dock.
Gateways had been erected, shutting off the edge of the pier from the
sheds in which the crowd was waiting, and the first sight they had of
the rescued was when after the gangway had been rigged, and the brief
formalities of the shore complied with, the passengers began slowly to
come down the gangway. A famous English dramatist who was looking on at
the scene has written of it eloquently, describing the strange varieties
of bearing and demeanou