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
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.