The scenes in the water were not so terrible as you may think. Here and
there men were singing, "It's a Long, Long Way to Tipperary," "We All
Go the Same Way Home," indeed, one man who joined us actually began
joking.
The way men met their death was wonderful. They would give a smile to
their comrades, wish them luck, and slide away quite peacefully without
a struggle.
Floating spars, etc., occasionally put us in difficulties and several
of us were badly bruised. It was a strange sight to see one's comrades,
some fully dressed, even to their caps, others naked, while others like
myself were clothed only in their pajamas.
Before going into the water I happened to look at my watch and it was
7:50. It speaks well for an English watch, doesn't it? when I tell you
it didn't stop till 9:15. This watch and my crucifix I still have.
Well, there we were floating about until 9:45, when we sighted some
trawlers approaching. It seemed as if they would never come to the
doctor, a marine, and myself--for we were but three then.
At 10:20 I turned and saw a steam trawler near us and I suppose the
relief was too much for me, as I became unconscious, so from then till
1 p.m. I must give information supplied me by the doctor. Becoming
unconscious, he tells me I released my hold of the plank, but still
kept my arm around the lifebuoy.
The steam trawler did not see us and headed away in another direction,
but from behind her came a small cutter. The doctor shouted "If you
come now you can save the Padre," and come they did, and, thank God,
saved our lives. They hauled me into the boat and pumped away at me. I
just remember being conscious for a moment and hearing voices.
We were then put on the Lowestoft trawler, S. S. _Coriandar_, and put
in the stokehold. It was not until 1 p.m. that I became conscious, a
most painful awakening and I was very sick. The fishermen had put an
under flannel over me and given me hot tea. They were indeed good to us.
Our commander was picked up by the same boat and was superintending
the boats which were in company with the Lowestoft trawler and others
transferring us to H. M. S. _Lennox_. (They had their reward off the
Dutch coast, eh?)
We buried one poor fellow there and then, but brought home another.
After being massaged, I was put to bed, where I remained till 5 p.m.
until the worst of the soreness had passed off. We were landed at
Harwich at 8:30. The passage home, I'm told, was not without interest!
An order was given to "clear for action." Those who could, rushed
on deck to see what was happening, and in the far distance saw an
aeroplane and a waterplane approaching, but as they put it, "There was
nothing doing," as they turned out to be British.
On landing we were received at the Great Eastern Hotel, equipped as a
hospital, by the matron and her staff of Red Cross nurses. After being
examined by the doctor, and found to have no bones broken, I had my
first meal since 7 p.m. the previous day, and it was good!