What mattered it to him that his place was in the steerage? Did not each pulsing throb of the Titanic’s mighty engines bear him as far and as fast as though he, too, already held in his hand the millions he felt he was destined to win in this golden land of opportunity beyond the seas? And so, from the loftiest promenade deck to the lowest stoke hole in the vitals of the ship peace and comfort and happiness reigned. APPROACHING HOME AND FRIENDS. To some the rapidly-nearing shores of America meant home--and friends. To others, opportunity--and work. Yet to all it meant the culmination of a voyage which, so far, had been one all-too-short holiday from the bustle and turmoil of a busy world. “Man proposes, but God disposes!” Never were truer words uttered, nor phrase more fitting to that fateful hour. “In the midst of life we are in death.” Yet the soft breeze from the south still spread its balmy, salt-laden odors to delight their senses and to lull them to a feeling of complete security. What was that? A cold breath as from the fastnesses of the Frost King swept the steamer’s decks. A shiver of chill drove the wearied passengers below, but sent the ship’s officers scurrying to their stations. The seaman, and the seaman alone, knew that that icy chill portended icebergs--and near at hand. Besides, twice in the last few hours had the wireless ticked its warnings from passing vessels that the Titanic was in the vicinity of immense floes. Why had the warning not been heeded? Why had the ponderous engines continued to thunder with the might of a hundred thousand horses, and the ship to plunge forward into the night with the unchecked speed of an express train? God knows! The captain knew, but his lips are sealed in death as, a self-inflicted bullet in his brain, he lies in the cold embrace of the sea he had loved and had defied--too long. THE LOOKOUT’S WARNING CRY. Perhaps Bruce Ismay, the managing director of the line, who was on board--and survived when women drowned--also knows. Perhaps he will tell by whose orders those danger warnings were scoffed at and ignored. Perhaps; perhaps! The lookout uttered a sharp cry! Too late! One grinding crash and the Titanic had received its death blow. Man’s proudest craft crumbled like an eggshell. Ripped from stem to engine room by the great mass of ice she struck amidships, the Titanic’s side was laid open as if by a gigantic can opener. She quickly listed to starboard and a shower of ice fell on to the forecastle deck. Shortly before she sank she broke in two abaft the engine room, and as she disappeared beneath the water the expulsion of air or her boilers caused two explosions, which were plainly heard by the survivors adrift. A moment more and the Titanic had gone to her doom with the fated hundreds grouped on the after deck. To the survivors they were visible to the last, and their cries and moans were pitiable.