I was awakened by D. McGowan, A.B., quartermaster of the watch, and told there was a ship close at hand on the port bow, and as I was getting up, I heard the quartermaster call "full speed" and saw him ring up the telegraph and heard the officer of the deck, Chief Gunner's Mate Leonard R. Smith, give the order "hard right." I got outside the chart house, and, as I had been asleep I could not distinguish things very plainly, but I saw this dark object on the port bow. She was so near I could see the white water being thrown up in front and hear the sound of it.

I gave the order "hard left" to swing toward her; at that time we were swinging right and throwing ourselves abeam of her and I wanted to receive a glancing blow if we could not clear. The helmsman answered me, "Hard left, sir," and then we struck. I called the lookouts to untoggle the four cork life rings on the bridge, and ran aft, but could not get any farther aft than the hatch of the C.P.O. compartment, as the decks were submerged. As I turned to go forward, I was knocked up against the life lines by the sea, as we had a following sea at the time. I went back to No. 1 6-pounder, where the men were, and saw them lower the boat and embark. I told the coxswain to go to the merchantman and tell them to send us boats and then to return with our boat. I returned to the bridge and told Smith, who had a megaphone, to call to the merchantman and tell him to back down across our bows and send lifeboats. The merchantman had already lowered lifeboats and one of them came alongside. I took the position from the chart by working back from the rendezvous 45 miles and gave it to the wireless operator, Archie R. Ridlon, third-class electrician, and told him to send the S.O.S. I several times afterwards asked him if he had gotten it through, and he always said, "I am trying, sir." It was soon discovered that the aerial was down. Eugene L. Paysse, second-class hospital apprentice, tried to rig up a makeshift aerial, but was unsuccessful. I called for a searchlight, but it blew a fuse.

The engines had been put out of commission by the collision. I gave orders to the water tender to let No. 2 boiler die out and secure. The water tender came up on deck and we both went aft; by this time the water was about up to No. 3 stack, and he said, "Mr. O'Brien, hadn't we better shut this hatch down?" The hatch was just forward of the stack, and we closed it. We then went forward and secured No. 1 boiler, in order to prevent an explosion if we sank. It was about 3 a.m. The ship listed violently and began to settle rapidly. I went up on the forecastle and we saw a lifeboat coming, and I had Smith, who had the megaphone, to tell them to bear a hand, as we could not last much longer. There were eight men and myself on board. A quartermaster named Dunn [Ed Dunn, second-class quartermaster] and myself then went up on the bridge and got the chart, the rough log sheet, the night orders, and our clothes, and went down on the main deck and waiting for the boat got dressed. The ship was searched and the radio man told to leave his station, as we were leaving in the last boat. As I went over the side it was 3.05; I had a navigator's stop watch in my pocket. We had some time getting clear of the side on account of the suction. A few minutes after getting aboard the Chauncey was reported to me as "sunk." I did not see it myself, because I did not look back. It was then 3.17. I asked the captain to circle the spot until dawn, had lookouts assigned for him, and gave him the men with mechanical ability to help him out in the foreholds.