Before the Carpathia sailed once again on her sadly interrupted voyage to the Mediterranean, Captain A.H. Rostrom made public the report he has sent to the Cunard Company telling an unvarnished tale of the rescue of the Titanic survivors.

  The report written on the regular stationery of the Carpathia, reads:

R.M.S. Carpathia,   
April 19, 1912.

General Manager Cunard Steamship Company, Ltd., Liverpool.

  Sir: I beg to report that at 12.34 A.M. on the 15th inst. I was informed of urgent distress message from Titanic, with her position. I immediately ordered ship turned around and put in course for that position; we being then fifty-eight miles S. 42 E. (T) from her. Had heads of all departments called and issued what I considered the necessary orders to be in preparation for any emergency.

  At 2.40 A.M., saw flare half a point on port bow, taking this for granted to be ship. Shortly after we sighted our first iceberg (I had previously had lookouts doubled, knowing that Titanic had struck ice, and so took every care and precaution).

  We soon found ourselves in a field of bergs, large and small, and had to alter course several times to clear bergs; weather fine and clear, light airs, calm sea, beautifully clear night, though dark.

  We stopped at 4 A.M., thus doing distance in three hours and a half, picking up the first boat at 4.10 A.M.; boat in charge of an officer and he reported to me that Titanic had foundered. At 8.30 A.M. last boat picked up. All survivors aboard and all boats accounted for, viz fifteen lifeboats alongside, one lifeboat abandoned, two Berthon boats alongside (saw one bottom upward among wreckage) and according to second officer not been launched, it having got jammed, making sixteen lifeboats and four Berthon boats accounted for.

  By the time we had cleared first boat it was breaking day, and we could distinguish the other boats all within an area of four miles. We also saw that we were surrounded by icebergs, large and small, and three miles to the N.W. of us a huge field of drift ice with large and small bergs in it, the ice field trending from N.W. round by W. and S. to S.E., as far as we could see either way.

PROMPT IN RESCUE WORK.

  At 8 A.M. the Leyland S.S. California came up. I gave him the principal news and asked him to search and I would proceed to New York; at 8.50 proceeded full speed. While searching over vicinity of disaster and while we were getting people aboard I gave orders to get spare hands along and swing in all our boats, disconnect the falls and hoist us as many Titanic boats as possible, in our davits; also, get some on fo'castle deck by derricks. We got thirteen lifeboats, six on forward deck and seven in davits.

  After getting all survivors aboard and while searching I got a clergyman to offer a short prayer of thankfulness for those saved and also a short burial service for those lost.

  Before deciding definitely where to make for I conferred with Mr. Ismay, and though he told me to do what I thought best I informed him, taking everything into consideration. I considered New York best.

  I knew we should require more provisions, clean linen, blankets and so forth, even if we went to the Azores.

  As most of the passengers saved were women and children, and they were very hysterical, and not knowing what medical attention they might require, thought it best to go to New York; also thought it would be better for Mr. Ismay to get to New York or England as soon as possible and knowing that I should be out of wireless communication with anything very soon if I proceeded to the Azores.

  Again, passengers were all hysterical about ice, and pointed out to Mr. Ismay the possibility of seeing ice if we went to Halifax. Then I knew from the gravity of the disaster that it would be desirable to keep in touch with land stations all we could.

THE MAJORITY OF THE WOMEN LOSE THEIR HUSBANDS.

  I am pleased to say that all survivors have been very plucky. The majority of the women, first, second and third classes lost their husbands, and considering all have been wonderfully well. Tuesday our doctor reported all survivors physically well.

  Our first class passengers have behaved splendidly, giving up the cabins quite voluntarily and supplying the ladies with clothes and so forth. We all turned out of our cabins to give them up to survivors, saloons, smokerooms, library and so forth also being used for sleeping accommodations. Our crew also turned out to let the crew of the Titanic take their quarters.

  I am pleased to state that owing to preparations made for the comfort of the survivors none are the worse for exposure and so forth.

  I beg to specially mention how willingly and cheerfully the whole of the ship's company have behaved throughout, receiving the highest praise from everybody, and I can assure you, that I am very proud to have such a ship's company under my command.

  We have experienced very great difficulty in transmitting news, also names of survivors. Our wireless is very poor, and again, we have had so many interruptions from other ships, and also messages from shore (principally press, which we ignored). I gave instructions to send first all official messages, then names of passengers, then survivors' private messages, and the last press messages, as I considered the three first items most important and necessary.

  We had haze early Tuesday morning for several hours; again more or less all Wednesday from 5.30 A.M. to 5 P.M. Strong south- southwesterly winds and clear weather Tuesday with moderate rough sea.

  Bearing the survivors of the ill-fated Titanic and with them the first detailed news of the most terrible catastrophe of the sea, the steamship Carpathia, vessel of woe, bore up through the narrows of the harbor of New York, and tied up at the Cunard pier whence it had sailed less than a week before.

LIKE A FUNERAL SHIP.

  Silently as a funeral ship the Carpathia sped. Passengers and crew lined the upper decks. From portholes peered the faces of scores.

  But no cheer such as usually comes at the end of a cruise was heard. The lights shone brilliantly from every port and from the upper decks, but the big vessel moved silently, almost spectral in its appearance.

  There was all the speed at the vessel's command in its approach. Moving in from the open sea, the liner turned its prow up the channel toward the spot where the reflection in the sky showed the presence of the great city.

  At full speed she bore northward between the twinkling lights on shore. There were sick on board and their condition did not permit of delay.

  To the dismal souls on board, the weather must have seemed peculiarly fitting.

  All day the vessel had raced before a half a gale which beat fiercely against her prow as her course was changing northward. The rain fell heavily and was blown in gusts that defied protecting shelter.

  Spray flew from the waves and was thrown in showers as high as the top of the huge bulwarks.

  Such good headway had the Carpathia made, that she docked fully two hours before it had been expected. All day heavy, fog had hung over the lower bay and it was reported that the weather was heavy and thick outside.

  Officers of the Cunard and White Star Lines, from their offices on Lower Broadway, informed the anxious hundreds who appealed for information that the boat would not be in until probably one or two o'clock in the morning. Tug skippers, shipping men and the weatherwise made wagers among themselves, over the time the Carpathia would arrive. There were many who predicted confidently that the sorrow-laden liner would not be able to come up the channel before the dawn.

CARPATHIA'S WELCOME RETURN.

  At 6 o'clock in the morning the wireless flashed to the shore that the Carpathia was abreast of the Nantucket light ship. This is 187 miles from Ambrose Light, at the entrance to the Channel. The Carpathia is rated as a thirteen knot boat, and it was not believed port would be reached until at least 11 o'clock at night.

  But a favorable wind beat upon the ship that was bringing home the griefstricken women who had sailed so joyously on the Titanic. The gale that beat the waves, also hurried the ship on the last leg to port. It seemed that Captain Rostrom, in command, anticipating possibly that fog might make dangerous a trip up the channel in the night, had wished to avoid the scores of tugs that he knew would be sent to meet him.

  In consequence, the first word that came from Fire Island Light was vague and uncertain. They knew only that a great vessel, lighted from stem to stern, was approaching the harbor, but whether it was the Carpathia, the Mauretania or some other liner, could not be ascertained.

  But when the vessel came opposite Ambrose Light, there was no longer any doubt. From Sandy Hook to Quarantine and to all the stations up the channel the word was flashed that the Carpathia was coming. From the Battery to the Bronx the news spread and sent thousands hurrying toward the great Cunard docks.

  Then the tugs began snorting and steaming as they pushed the large hulk around in midstream. Slowly she yielded until headed straight toward the slip.

  The slow process was accomplished while a dozen other tugs pressed their noses against the sides, and those on board tried vainly to get some connected descriptions of the great catastrophe that stunned the peoples of two continents.

  Their efforts were largely futile. The passengers were too far away for their voices to carry well. The crew, acting under instructions, which, rightly or wrongly, have been credited by persons here to the desires of J. Bruce Ismay, the White Star Line chief, who escaped in one of the boats from the Titanic, refused to give any information they may have procured.

  While the ship was being docked, the photographers on the tugs were active. Flash after flash shot across the water as the camera men took their pictures.

  Finally the Carpathia was fast at her dock, and the gangways were lowered to let the sorrow-laden survivors ashore to receive the welcome that awaited them.