On November 26, 1939, I took up the watch duty on the bridge at 4:00. At 4:20 we went past the Flamborough light house 5 miles east following the 139° at the speed of 19.5 knots.

The weather: moonlit night with scattered clouds and precipitations, air and water temperature 12°C, sea conditions: 4,5.

At the captain’s order, who at 4:20, after passing the Flamborough lighthouse, went down to his cabin to rest, we were sailing with the lights out, turning them on only when passing other ships. There was an ‘eye’ on the bow and another one on the mast. On the bridge, on the port side stood Assistant Przesmycki. I was standing on the starboard side.

At 5:36, when I entered the control room for a moment to turn on the lights for the ship sailing in the opposite direction on the starboard side, I felt a powerful shock and an explosion at the bow, on the port side. It was followed by another explosion, 10 to 15 seconds later, at what seemed as mid-ship, in the engine area. The ship began to quickly lean to port side as if tending to capsize. The engines stopped, all lights went off. At that moment the captain rushed on the bridge and ordered disembarkation.

I tried to engage the alarm sounds, but they did not function, damaged by the explosions. I started calling up the crew, who, shocked by the explosions, started coming up on the deck to board the life boats. The captain walked over to the stern. I grabbed a life belt from my cabin and boarded the motor boat A. The First Mechanic Kaczorowski, the Third Officer Żelazowski, and other scheduled crew members followed me there.

Most of the people had already been on the water. Having ascertained that no one else was showing up in response to my calls, I, myself, lowered the motor boat on the water with difficulty caused by the heavy leaning of the ship on the port side. I had to get in the water up to my waist. After many strenuous attempts, I was finally able to start the motor, when the anti-torpedo boat arrived to rescue and we were still drifting on the waves. After the redundant members of the crew boarded the anti-torpedo boat, we towed the motorboat B to it and boarded it.

I have to stress, that all that time everyone on the launch had shown calm and self-control.

Dnia 26 listopada 1939 r. objąłem wachtę na mostku o godz. 4.00. O godz. 4.20 minęliśmy latarnię Flamborough w odległości 5 mil na wschód, idąc kursem 139° z szybkością 19 ½ węzła.

Pogoda: noc księżycowa o przelotnym zachmurzeniu i opadach, wiatr SW 5, temperatura powietrza i wody 12°C, stan morza 4,5.

Na zlecenie kapitana, który o godz. 4.20, po minięciu latarni Flamborough, zszedł do swojej kabiny, aby odpocząć, szliśmy bez świateł, zapalając je jedynie przy mijaniu statków. „Oko” było wystawione na dziobie i na maszcie: z lewej strony na mostku stał asystent Przesmycki, ja stałem z prawej burty.

Gdy wszedłem o godz. 5.36 na chwilę do sterówki, aby zapalić światła dla pokazania ich statkowi idącemu kontrkursem z prawej burty, poczułem silny wstrząs i wybuch na dziobie z lewej burty. Po upływie 10-15 sekund, nastąpił drugi wybuch, jak miałem wrażenie, na śródokręciu, w okolicy maszyn. Statek zaczął się szybko przechylać na lewą burtę i robił wrażenie, jakby miał tendencję do wywrócenia się. Motory stanęły wszystkie światła zgasły. W tym momencie wpadł kapitan na mostek i zarządził opuszczenie statku.

Starałem się uruchomić dzwonki alarmowe, które jednak uszkodzone przez wstrząsy nie działały. Zacząłem wobec tego wołać do załogi, która zaalarmowana przez eksplozję, samorzutnie wyszła na pokład, aby wsiadać do łodzi. Kapitan udał się na rufę. Ja, wziąwszy z kabiny pas ratunkowy, poszedłem do motorówki „A”, do której nadeszli I mechanik Kaczorowski, III oficer Żelazowski i inni przewidziani rozkładem członkowie załogi.

Większość ludzi była już na wodzie. Przekonawszy się, że nikt więcej, pomimo wołania nie nadchodzi, opuściłem osobiście motorówkę na wodę, co było bardzo utrudnione, gdyż statek leżał na lewej burcie mocno przechylony. Sam zszedłem do talii. Motor dało się uruchomić dopiero po intensywnych usiłowaniach, gdy nadszedł kontrtorpedowiec na ratunek. W międzyczasie dryfowaliśmy na fali. Po wysadzeniu niepotrzebnych członków załogi na kontrtorpedowiec, przyholowaliśmy do niego motorówkę „B” i sami weszliśmy na pokład.

Pragnę podkreślić, że przez cały czas wszyscy w szalupie wykazywali spokój i opanowanie.

I got awoken by a powerful rumble and shock. In a daze, I lowered my bare feet from my high bunk. Portholes were blacked out with paint, so inside the cabin it was completely dark. I reached out for the switch and turned it — no light. At that very moment, very close, right underneath — another explosion! The ship shook and swirled, things were falling off from above. I feared the ceiling was falling on my head. In the first reaction, I cowered. The engines had stopped working, there was dead silence, interrupted only by the delayed clang of things falling from above, less and less frequently, and, suddenly I hear the waterfall rumble — water rushing into something — and that sound was the most terrifying. With a jolt, I rushed forward and down to the hallway door. There, I came to my senses realizing I had only my shirt on. I rushed back, pulled my trousers and jacket off the hook and put them on. I bent down for my shoes but instead, all I could feel with my hands was rubble - pieces of the sink, an overturned chair, drawers, scattered books…. no shoes, so I bolted down the hallway barefoot. It felt as if the ship was leaning more and more. I kept hearing the swoosh of waterfall not knowing where it was coming from: above or below. Are we still on the water surface or below? Now and then I get hit in the head by open doors, I pull pieces of glass from my feet. I don’t feel any pain, anything. Only blood pastes my toes together. I race headlong into the void of the main hallway. I have to cut diagonally toward the deck stairs. (…) I lose sense of direction in this pitch-blackness. I don’t know which way to go through this terrible heap of rubble. Finally, I somehow, I hit a door knob, I turn it, but the door to the deck doesn’t open. I’m pulling on it, yanking—to no avail. I give in. In apathy, I move along the wall and, in a while, I find myself in an empty space: a large parlor, a row of large rectangular windows, the night sky showing through. Curtains are flapping in the gale. A puff of fresh air. FREEDOM! I rush to the closest window. Shards of broken glass are sticking from the frame. Without thinking, I put the cork belt on the frame and dive head-on. I fall on the deck without a slightest scratch. (…) In a rush of calm, I move on to look for my launch number three.

“The ship will capsize any moment now”, I told the captain. “We’ll run to the stern, jump in the water and swim to the nearest lifeboat.”
“I prefer the raft,” said the captain. “I don’t want to jump.”

I understood the captain. He preferred to get hold of something concrete rather than jump and count on the storm wave to help us reach a launch. I had no idea what time it was and how long we would need to hold on to the raft in the icy water. If I manage to reach the launch, I’ll try to find the raft with the captain who might float off with it when the ship capsizes. So I did not insist that the captain jump with me.
“Good bye!”
“Good bye!”
We shook hands.

The launch was nearby and so I gathered I’d easily swim over to it despite thethe rough sea. So far everything seemed simple and easy. I only needed to hurry to reach the boat before the ship keels over. Within a moment I was overboard clutching the pole with my legs. Then I felt it was crushing me to the deck. Fainting, I felt I was falling down. Something hit me in the head. It turned quiet and dark.

I was beaten, on the hands, legs and head. I was splashed with water. The water seemed pouring on my face incessantly. At times I couldn’t catch a breath. When I started choking, I opened my eyes. I couldn’t make out anything. I only felt I was rising in the dark only to fall down again. I was soaking wet. My head, my legs, my whole body was beating against something hard, something rough. I came to. I was lying on the bow of a launch. Slowly, I began to realize what had happened: a huge wave shoved the boat onto the lower part of the pole I was sliding down on toward the water. I was levered to the board with huge force. Pain made me lose consciousness and fall on the bow of the launch hitting her deck with my head. Somehow, luckily for me, the sweeping waves had not washed me off the boat.

“When we lowered the launches, only four of us remained on the ship: the captain, the two of us, deck hands, and Kawka, the kitchen chef. The captain ordered the raft to be lowered. He was the first one to jump on it. Kawka was hesitant—we couldn’t talk him into jumping. The waves kept splashing over us. The captain was losing strength and now and then sinking into the water. We tried do hold him up. The captain talked and kept thanking us.

The torpedo boat crew saw us and approached right away. They dropped the line. My colleague grabbed it first. Then I did. The captain was too exhausted and couldn’t. He stayed, but he sank down and started drowning. Then one of the Englishmen jumped in the water and caught him. I don’t knowwhat followed. Perhaps you, gentlemen, saw the captain?” At that point I heard a voice behind me. It was the senior officer. “Doctor, do you know this man?” He showed me a sheet of paper with the name Mamert Stankiewicz written on it. “Of course I know him—he’s our captain, I said.” “Then this is the man you tried to save on the lower deck.” “Possible!” I sprang to my feet. How could they all not recognize him? The Englishman and I ran out onto the deck. The boat was heavily leaning and cutting storm waves. The huge waves were threatening to wash us overboard. Holding on to the lines we moved slowly along the wall toward the stern. There, hidden from the squall, lay a corpse covered with a white sheet. The officer pulled the corner of the shroud and I saw the changed, inscrutable face of Mamert Stankiewicz. Death brought back his features.