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TRANSFER OF THE PASSENGERS. Wireless Story of How They Reached the Friedrich Wilhelm. By Wireless Telegram to THE NEW YORK TIMES. ON BOARD SS. PRINZ FRIEDRICH WILHELM via Sagaponack, L. I. April 7 — In a rolling swell the 1,720 cabin and steerage passengers of the stranded Prinzess Irene aground on Fire Island, were transferred without accident today to the decks of this ship. The transfer was made by tugs and by lifeboats, and the whole work was marked by the utmost calm on the part of the rescued.

We reached a point three miles off shore and opposite the Prinzess Irene, just after noon today, and edged into eight fathoms of water feeling each foot of the way. There the anchor was dropped.

A yawl from the United States revenue cutter Seneca immediately put out and stood alongside us as a patrol and guard against an accident of the transfer. She was not needed.

A wireless from Capt. Peterssen of the Irene when the Wilhelm came to anchor stated that he was ready to transfer his passengers, but had some doubts as to the advisability of attempting it immediately in the sea that was running, and it was not until 2:33 o’clock that the tug John J. Timmons came alongside with 203 passengers aboard, the most of them Italians or Greeks in picturesque garb, not cheering but gazing eagerly at our decks.

The tug made fast to our starboard side, and an accommodation ladder, sloping at an angle of 45 degrees, was lowered to her. Eleven men manned the ladder and assisted the passengers to mount it.

The passengers had to be boosted from the tug’s deck to the ladder, and the first load of women and children were passed along from man to man. The Nichols came next with 253 passengers, and on her next trip the Timmons brought 400.

The sea was dying down slightly now and the landing was expedited accordingly.     

The first of the Irene’s passengers to reach the Wilhelm’s deck was Mollie Leonie, 3 months old, and after her came seven-year-old Antonio Deniello. After the passengers had been transferred their baggage was brought from the Irene, the first piece about being a Parisian hatbox. 

A Quarantine doctor aboard examined each person as he or she came over the side, and at 9:07 o’clock we hoisted anchor and set out for New York.

HOW SAYVILLE SAW RESCUE. Transfer Began with Steerage Passengers—Cabin Folk After These. Special to The New York Times. SAYVILLE. L. I., April 7 — The North German Lloyd liner Prinzess Irene, the bulk of her dimly outlined by the lights that gleam from her portholes, is lying tonight on the outer bar, where she grounded before dawn yesterday morning, her stern slightly less imbedded in the sand than when she landed, but otherwise much in the same position in which daylight found her.

Aboard her, though, remain only her officers and crew, a company of 380 person. The 1,720 passengers she carried, 235 of them in her cabins,  are bound at last for New York aboard the Prinzess Irene’s sister ship, the Prinz Friedrich Wilhelm. The Prinz Friedrich left here just after 9 o’clock tonight. She will be at Quarantine for the night and will land her passengers in Hoboken at 6 o’clock in the morning.

The transfer of the Prinzess Irene’s passengers was made in brilliant sunlight, but in a sea which a northwest wind whipped into foam-created breakers, things of danger for even the boats of the life savers, though an attempt was made at first to use these. The risk that these small boats ran was so obvious that most of the passengers were transferred directly from the decks of the Irene to that of the tug John J. Timmons.

The first passenger, a woman from the steerage, left the Prinzess Irene at 12:00 o’clock. The last went over the side at 5 o’clock. In the five hours and ten minutes intervening, all of the 1,720 passengers were transferred, a record for such work, seamen here say, and they recall that it took eight hours to transfer the 800 passengers from the sinking Republic off No Man’s Land two years ago.

Women—and they were women of the steerage, too—were the first to leave the ship, for until the last of the immigrants below decks had been taken from the Prinzess Irene, her cabin passengers insisted on remaining aboard.

Among them all there was not one who showed the white feather. Greek and Italian women whose ignorance of any but their own language kept them from full knowledge of conditions which enheartened the cabin passengers went over the side, down shaky ladders with smiles on their lips and courage in their eyes. They hugged their babies a little closer to them, but they did not falter.

Nor did they falter as they were lifted or clambered aboard the Prinz Friedrich Wilhelm. At 9:07 o’clock the big steamship set her engines going and started away from Quarantine. It has taken her about three hours to come from New York, but she would be at anchor in Quarantine in very much shorter time.

Weather Improves with Morning. Day broke with a haze hanging over the water and a wind still coming briskly from the southwest as it had last night. But presently the sun began to burn away the mist, and by 8 o’clock white-capped waves were dancing beneath warm sunlight. On the Fire Island strand the life savers were huddled about their fire as they had been when darkness fell, but the blaze that had been a beacon through the night was dying out. Coffee and a bite to eat took the cold out of the watchers, and a tramp to the shore as Capt. Goddard and his men were seen putting off from the Prinzess Irene, where they had spent the night, worked the stiffness out of their limbs.

The wind veered with the rising sun until it blew off shore from the northwest, a sheering of quarter the points of the compass. It was a good omen. Goddard and his men brought word that Capt. von Letten Peterssen and his crew were preparing to transfer their passengers to the Prinz Friedrich Wilhelm, whose approach they had heard of by wireless, and for which they were looking eagerly.

Accident Ages the Captain. Capt. Goddard brought with him, too, what so far is the only explanation of the grounding of the Prinzess Irene. And the explanation was that the grounding was simply inexplicable to Capt. Peterssen. 

“He looked like an old man,” was the description which the life savers brought of the liner’s skipper. “He was weighed down by worry and care. He seemed nearly overcome by his misfortune, but he couldn’t explain it.”

Capt. Goddard said he had seen Capt. Peterssen’s log and that it recorded that just prior to the grounding the lead had marked 18 fathoms  and the speed of the vessel had been 15 knots. The speed, the life savers said, must have been at least this, since there is no depth of 18 fathoms within many yards of the sandpit on which the steamship now lies.

Capt. Goddard said that Capt. Peterssen had told him that he had made three voyages over the identical course he was pursuing when he struck ground, taking the same sounding and the same reckoning. It was this that made the accident inexplicable to him, and which weighed more on his mind that if he had struck when knowingly off his course.

Passengers Showed No Fear. Of the conduct of the passengers about Capt. Goddard had the highest praise. He said that while the steerage passengers had been a trifle nervous, they have been no more than this and had been easily calmed. The cabin passengers, whatever might have been their inner feelings, kept up their spirits in the presence of each other. Throughout the night, the Captain said, he had seen many parties of women playing bridge in the saloons or playing and singing about the pianos. Concerts given by the ship’s band also served to keep up the spirits of all hands.

With them from the ship the life savers brought a line with which later rig a whip for the breeches buoy if that should prove to be necessary. It was a precautionary move only, said Capt. Goddard.

The sea was still too high to attempt a transfer of the passengers from the stranded steamer to any of the many boats which hovered about in the neighborhood waiting for the chance to offer relief, and aboard the Prinzess Irene there was nothing to do but hope for a calming of the sea and await the arrival of the Prinz Friedrich Wilhelm. Ashore the life savers busied themselves with the lifeboats, Capt. Goddard getting all three of the Lone Hill Station’s boats down to the beach ready to launch.

            Rescuing Liner Heaves in Sight. This work was still in progress when shortly before noon the outline of the Prinz Friedrich Wilhelm became visible on the horizon, and she steamed steadily toward the Prinzess Irene. Those aboard the stranded ship evidently sighted her as soon as the life saver, for presently a string of signal flags broke out on the Prinzess Irene. They spelled “F.I” and by code the life savers translated this into “Send a boat suitable for landing passengers.”

The men aboard the derelict destroyer Seneca and the United States revenue cutter Mohawk evidently read the signal, too, for there was bustle on both these ships. Before they got boats over the side, however, a second signal was broken out alongside the first. This spelled out the letters “S.O.R.” and meant “Send from shore.”

In response, Capt. Goddard gathered his crew together, a crew garbed in high boots almost to their hips, oil skins, sou’westers. They manned their craft, half a dozen to a side, and awaiting the proper moment rushed it down into the sea. But a huge comber swept in on them almost as they were about to vault over the sides of their boat. It swept them from their feet and tossed their craft back on shore broadside to the waves. There was nothing for it but to turn the water out and try again. This the men did as soon as they had scrambled ashore themselves, but the process was repeated six times before the boat got away.

Capt. Goddard, weather beaten and wiry, stood in the stern sheets, manning the stern oar. He steered straight for the Prinzess Irene, and in a few moments had brought his craft alongside under the lee of the vessel, where the sea was comparatively calm.

The Prinz Friedrich Wilhelm was coming in fast now, and presently went to anchor about a mile at sea from the Prinzess Irene. A cheer went up from the passengers on the stranded ship as they saw relief in sight.

It was after 12:30 now, and presently those ashore could see an accommodation ladder being lowered over the bow of the stranded ship. Capt. Goddard steered his life boat directly beneath it, and from the shore a shout arose as a woman was seen to descend the ladder, helped by sailors above until one of the brawny life savers standing astraddle of a thwart, reached up and caught her in his arms, to pass her along toward the stern sheets, where she was seated safely out of the way.

On the yellow strip of beach was gathered almost all of Sayville. The townsfolk had come over on oyster boats, rowboats, motor boats, and craft of all kind. More than fifty women rode over in a barge towed by a broken-down launch, and when they found that shoal water would not let them within 100 feet of the shore, came the rest of the way astride the shoulders of an old fisherman, who brought them one by one to the beach, across which they ran to the ocean side to watch the rescue.

From Point o’ Woods Capt. Baker and his men rowed their lifeboat about six miles to where the rescue was being made and then, loading the boat off to a beach cart, dragged it, with fifty men at the rope across the strand to the shore where they launched it as Capt. Rourke of the Blue Point Life Saving Station was already under way, and Capt. Goddard had pulled away ten women and a baby.

Capt. Rourke took a similar load and Capt. Baker another. Capt. Goddard meanwhile, had kept his men pulling along the lee of the Prinzess Irene in calm water, apparently not anxious to venture out into the mass of white caps beyond.

One Tug Gets Alongside. On the tugs John J. Timmons and John Nichols his difficulty was seen and appreciated, and with the precision of men o’ war maneuvering before an audience the two tugs executed a brilliant piece of seamanship. They steamed into parallel positions aft of the Prinzess Irene so that before rough water could more than strike the lifeboat it had an opportunity to come under the lee of one of them again into calm water. Capt. Goddard swept into the lee of the Nichols, and then the skipper of the Timmons, seeing all opportunity, improved even on the work already accomplished. He slipped quickly, in a momentary calm,  beneath the stern counter of the Prinzess Irene, nestling snugly beneath the overhang of her stern, where he made fast.

Capt. Goddard and the other two boats instantly put back to this new haven, and presently all three had landed their loads on the wide decks of the Timmons. It was after 1 o’clock by now, and boats put out from the Mohawk and Seneca and from the Relief and I.J. Merritt of the Merritt-Chapman fleet.

To The Tugs by Rowboat. Soon there were ten boats taking passengers from the bow of the Prinzess Irene and carrying them aft in the lee of the big vessel to the decks of the Timmons. As the Timmons got her full complement she put off for the Prinz Friedrich Wilhelm, and the Nichols moved into her place. Thus the work of transfer was carried rapidly on, no effort being made to move the passengers directly from the Prinzess Irene to the decks of the Timmons, because of the difficulty of rigging the necessary ladder. It seemed less dangerous to shift them from boat to boat.

With the steerage passengers safely off the ship, the officers were willing to allow the calmer cabin inmates to descend the shake ladders from the high stern of the Irene to the decks of the Timmons or Nichols far below.

Women tumbled over the side and down the ladders with as much courage and confidence as the men, and when the last passenger had left the Irene there was not an accident to report.

Took Steerage Baggage, Too. It took three trips each by the Timmons and the Nichols to get all the passengers from the Irene to the Wilhelm, and then the Timmons made another trip for the baggage of the immigrants. It had become clear, early in the day, that most of the Greeks and Italians on board were more concerned about their baggage than they were about their own lives, and it required all the persuasive powers the men and officers of the Irene possessed to get some of them to leave the ship with their goods still aboard.

In the transfer the lifeboats did yeoman service. Capt. Goddard made twelve trips from bow to stern of the Irene, carrying 216 passengers in all. Capt. Baker carried 116 in about seven trips, and Capt. Rourke conveyed 250.

Darkness was falling as the last of the passengers were put aboard the Prinz Friedrich Wilhelm, and it was quite dark before the last of the baggage had been put aboard, to the intense satisfaction of the immigrants, who lined the rail of the rescuing ship until they saw their goods safely aboard.

Stranded Liner May Stay a Week. And then the Prinz Friedrich Wilhelm steamed away. Behind her she left the Prinzess Irene lying like a spider in her own huge net—a net composed of hawsers which the rescuing tugs have stretched from winches aboard the liner to their own decks, and which already have been strained to the breaking point in an effort to move the huge steamer.

It may be a week, Capt. Goddard says, that the Prinzess Irene must lie as she lies now, and the life savers believe there is grave danger for her safety if a southwest storm blows up. She is imbedded in sand from stem to stern, and the seas and winds rock her. So far her plates and her watertight compartments are sound, but what would happen if a heavy sea were to pound her for hours at a time the life savers don’t pretend to guess. She might hold safely together or she might open her plates and compartments. It is for one of these things that Capt. Peterssen and his crew of 380 are waiting now. None knows which.

THE PASSENGERS’ STORIES. Some Were Not Awakened by the Shock. Cabin passengers who were taken from the Prinzess Irene had tales to tell TIMES reporters on the Prinz Friedrich Wilhelm after reaching that vessel of the calmness with which the steerage passengers had taken the news that they were aground. The lack of panic among them was remarkable, said the cabin passengers, who seemed to think it of no account that they themselves had had courage to while away the time playing bridge or listening to the band.

Dr. Ernesto Mensi, who is an Italian Royal Commissioner, especially assigned to the Prinzess Irene, and Dr. E. Oteri, the Italian surgeon on board, were primarily responsible for the quite with which the steerage passengers took the situation, according to other passengers. Dr. Mensi and Dr. Oteri disclaimed credit, although admitting that they had done what they could to encourage their countrymen.

“I had been kept awake most of the night by the fog horn,” said Dr. Mensi, “and I was sleeping very lightly when the ship struck. It seemed as  though I knew instantly what had happened, and springing from my berth I shouted to Dr. Oteri:

“‘We’re aground. Jump for the steerage and quiet ‘em’."

“We got to the steerage as soon as we could dress and found the immigrants more or less excited. Women and children were crying, but it seemed to be more through terror of the unknown than through a realization of what had happened. The closing of the dead lights seemed to have upset many of them, and Dr. Oteri and myself quickly reassured them. Once they knew that land was at hand, and that they were in no danger, they went back to sleep.”

Most of the immigrants came from Palermo, said Dr. Mensi. Almost all of them were Sicilians.

Brig. Gen. A. C. Girard, U.S.A., retired, was a passenger on the Prinzess Irene. He was awakened by the shock of grounding, and said he realized instantly what had happened. He said there was no excitement among the cabin passengers.

“Some of them didn’t even arise,” said he, “and I believe they were not awakened.”

Experience of St. Louis Man. Mr. and Mrs. J. A. Freeman, with their eighteen-year-old daughter, Ellen, who live in St. Louis, were among the passengers. Mr. Freeman corroborated the testimony of other passengers concerning the calmness with which the accident had been taken.

“I was aroused by the shock, and in my half sleepy state I thought we had dropped anchor at Quarantine,” said Mr. Freeman. “Many of the passengers were not awakened at all, apparently, for they did not leave their cabins. If we could have got off immediately after striking I believe many of them would not have known that there had been an accident until they reached New York.”

Mrs. C. F. Pfaffmann of 200 West Eight-sixth Street and her mother, Mrs. Annie Pearson, who lives with her, had a cabin close to the steerage. Mrs. Pfaffmann said that when the ship struck there was considerable excitement in the steerage until Dr. Mensi and Dr. Oteri reached their countrymen. Afterward there seemed to be no excitement at all.

“Thursday we spent pleasantly aboard the Irene,” said Mrs. Pfaffmann. “The ship did not rock and there was no excitement. We all waited, sure of a rescue in time. It was a little worse this morning, for the steerage passengers had begun to be restless over the long wait.”

Other passengers were the Rev. George B. Stone, an Episcopal clergyman from England, and his wife. They have traveled in many parts of the world, and Mrs. Stone is an accomplished linguist. When the ship struck and several times during the wait for the transfer Mrs. Stone made trips down to chat with the steerage women, talking with them in Italian, quieting those who were inclined to be nervous, and cheering those who had taken refuge and comfort in tears.

Both Dr. and Mrs. Stone united in saying that there had never been anything approaching a panic on the Irene, and that among the first and second-class passengers it was all taken in a most matter of fact way. Many of the passengers came down to breakfast yesterday morning ready to accept the assurances that all would be well, and not able to see very clearly what they could do about it anyway.

George W. Schluederberg of Pittsburg spoke of the bad weather which had been encountered throughout the trip and of the difficulty in taking observations. He spoke in the highest terms of the skill of the officers, and in this he was joined by every passenger who spoke at all.

Before leaving the ship the cabin passengers filed past Capt. Peterssen on his bridge to shake his hand and tell him of their confidence in him, of their regret for the accident, and of their hope that it would come out all right for him.

FIRST ABOARD RESCUING LINER. An Italian Woman and Two Babies—Little Visible Trepidation. The transfer of the passengers from the stranded liner, as seen by TIMES reporters from the Prinz Friedrich Wilhelm, was a strange spectacle. Looking down from the Friedrich, seventy men, who had been taken from the North German Lloyd pier at Hoboken, could be seen on the accommodation ladder, passing babies like so many bundles. The real bundles to which the immigrants clung seemed to be matters of far greater concern to them  than their own safety or that of those around them.

Almost all the passengers of the stranded vessel made the transfer with a fair amount of good humor and no visible trepidation. Only those who made the passage in the lifeboats seemed to be really scared, but there was fear enough  in those boats to make up for the rest of the party. As the boats would approach the side of the Friedrich Wilhelm and ride there dipping on the swells, the reluctant passengers had to be fairly dragged to the ladder and boosted up.

The first woman to reach the rescuing steamer was Priscilla Demello and two little children, one hardly more than a few years old, followed as close seconds. Reporters asked their names with interest but she declared that they were not her children and that she did not know whose they were.

The two tugboats each made three trips and on the second of these the John J. Timmons carried the heaviest load of the evening, taking 415 passengers. Capt. Prehn of the Friedrich Wilhelm said that last evening’s performance was probably the first time that a 17,000-top ship had got up steam and gone out as a tender. He said he would have been unable to send out early yesterday morning had he not feared he might run short of coal.

Many of the tugboat Captains who watched or shared the transfer were decidedly skeptical when it was predicted that the stranded ship would be released from its present position very soon. They said the Irene seemed to have jumped squarely over the outer bar and must have struck the inner bar. They thought her release would be a matter of days at least, and of much effort. Her cargo is light, most of it Italian merchandise.

Of the passengers on the stranded ship there were 66 in the first cabin, 156 in the second cabin, and 1,485 in the steerage, of whom 56 were children and 4 were infants. When the ship struck eight men were in the hospital and four babies with their mothers, but there were no serious cases.

  An artist is not paid for his labor but for his vision. --  James McNeill