The arrival of the Carpathia brought a vast multitude of people to the Cunard docks. They filled the vast pier sheds, and, overflowing for blocks, crowded the nearby streets in a dense throng. Through it all the rain fell steadily, adding a funeral aspect to the scene. The landing of the survivors was attended with little excitement, the crowd standing in awe-like silence as the groups from the ship passed along. The docking actually began shortly after nine o’clock and the debarking of passengers was so quickly disposed of by the waiving of the usual formality that practically everything had been concluded by 10.30 o’clock. The crowds remained about the pier long after this, however, to get a glimpse of the rescuing steamer and to hear the harrowing stories which had been brought back by the ship. Colonel Archibald Gracie, U. S. A., the last man saved, went down with the vessel, but was picked up. He was met by his daughter, who had arrived from Washington, and his son-in-law, Paul H. Fabricius. Colonel Gracie told a remarkable story of personal hardship and denied emphatically the reports that there had been any panic on board. He praised in the highest terms the behavior of both the passengers and crew and paid a high tribute to the heroism of the women passengers. Contrary to the general expectation, there was no jarring impact when the vessel struck, according to the army officer. He was in his berth when the vessel smashed into the submerged portion of the berg and was aroused by the jar. He looked at his watch, he said and found it was just midnight. The ship sank with him at 2.22 A. M. for his watch stopped at that hour. WOULD NOT DESERT HER HUSBAND. “Mrs. Isidor Straus,” he said, “went to her death because she would not desert her husband. Although he pleaded with her to take her place in the boat, she steadfastly refused, and when the ship settled at the head the two were engulfed by the wave that swept her.” Colonel Gracie told of how he was driven to the topmost deck when the ship settled and was the sole survivor after the wave that swept her just before her final plunge. “I jumped with the wave,” said he, “just as I have often jumped with the breakers at the seashore. By great good fortune I managed to grasp the brass railing on the deck above, and I hung on by might and main. When the ship plunged down I was forced to let go and I was swirled around and around for what seemed to be an interminable time. Eventually I came to the surface, to find the sea a mass of tangled wreckage.