Where cross the lines of forty north And fifty-fourteen west There rolls a wild and greedy sea With death upon its crest. No stone or wreath from human hands Will ever mark the spot Where fifteen hundred men went down, But Manhood perished not. Old Ocean takes but little heed Of human tears or woe. No shafts adorn the ocean graves, Nor weeping willows grow. Nor is there need of marble slab To keep in mind the spot Where noble men went down to death, But manhood perished not! Those men who looked on death and smiled, And trod the crumbling deck, Have saved much more than precious lives From out that awful wreck. Though countless joys and hopes and fears Were shattered at a breath, 'Tis something that the name of Man Did not go down to death. 'Tis not an easy thing to die, E'en in the open air, Twelve hundred miles from home and friends, In a shroud of black despair. A wreath to crown the brow of man, And hide a former blot Will ever blossom o'er the waves Where Manhood perished not. HARVEY P. THEW {spelling uncertain due to poor printing} CHAPTER VIII. THE CALL FOR HELP HEARD THE VALUE OF THE WIRELESS--OTHER SHIPS ALTER THEIR COURSE--RESCUERS ON THE WAY "WE have struck an iceberg. Badly damaged. Rush aid." Seaward and landward, J. G. Phillips, the Titanic's wireless man, had hurled the appeal for help. By fits and starts--for the wireless was working unevenly and blurringly--Phillips reached out to the world, crying the Titanic's peril. A word or two, scattered phrases, now and then a connected sentence, made up the message that sent a thrill of apprehension for a thousand miles east, west and south of the doomed liner. The early despatches from St. John's, Cape Race, and Montreal, told graphic tales of the race to reach the Titanic, the wireless appeals for help, the interruption of the calls, then what appeared to be a successful conclusion of the race when the Virginian was reported as having reached the giant liner. MANY LINES HEAR THE CALL Other rushing liners besides the Virginian heard the call and became on the instant something more than cargo carriers and passenger greyhounds. The big Baltic, 200 miles to the eastward and westbound, turned again to save life, as she did when her sister of the White Star fleet, the Republic, was cut down in a fog in January, 1909. The Titanic's mate, the Olympic, the mightiest of the seagoers save the Titanic herself, turned in her tracks. All along the northern lane the miracle of the wireless worked for the distressed and sinking White Star ship. The Hamburg-American Cincinnati, the Parisian from Glasgow, the North German Lloyd Prinz Friedrich Wilhelm, the Hamburg-American liners Prinz Adelbert and Amerika, all heard the C. Q. D. and the rapid, condensed explanation of what had happened. VIRGINIAN IN DESPERATE HASTE