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Title: Sinking of the "Titanic" most appalling ocean horror
Author: Jay Henry Mowbray
Release date: July 7, 2024 [eBook #73984]
Language: English
Original publication: Harrisburg: The Minter Company, 1912
Credits: Susan E., Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SINKING OF THE "TITANIC" MOST APPALLING OCEAN HORROR ***
_MEMORIAL EDITION_
SINKING OF THE “TITANIC”
MOST APPALLING
OCEAN HORROR
WITH GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF HUNDREDS
SWEPT TO ETERNITY BENEATH THE WAVES;
PANIC STRICKEN MULTITUDE FACING
SURE DEATH, AND THRILLING
STORIES OF THIS MOST OVERWHELMING CATASTROPHE
TO WHICH IS ADDED VIVID ACCOUNTS OF HEART-RENDING
SCENES, WHEN HUNDREDS WERE
DOOMED TO WATERY GRAVES, COMPILED
FROM SOUL STIRRING STORIES TOLD BY
EYE WITNESSES OF THIS TERRIBLE
HORROR OF THE BRINY DEEP
BY JAY HENRY MOWBRAY, PH.D., LL.D.
The Well Known Author
Profusely Illustrated with a Great Many Photographs of
Thrilling Scenes in this Fearful Catastrophe
TO WHICH IS ADDED ACCOUNTS OF OTHER GREAT DISASTERS
THE MINTER COMPANY
HARRISBURG, PA.
ENTERED ACCORDING TO ACT OF CONGRESS IN THE YEAR 1912, BY
GEO. W. BERTRON
THE OFFICE OF THE LIBRARIAN OF CONGRESS, AT WASHINGTON, D. C., U. S. A.
PREFACE.
“We are as near Heaven by sea as by land,” cried Sir Humphrey Gilbert,
ere his ship sank with him; and the hundreds who perished in the ocean
within reach of the exultant welcome and the festal preparation of
the shore have found Paradise as surely, and in giving “the last full
measure of devotion” have gone as brave men would wish to go.
Sorrow that is too deep and strong for words clutches the heart-strings
of humanity and the Nation mourns for the heroic dead, who were carried
down into the sea with the crushed “Titanic.” They faced death with
high hearts, making the Supreme Sacrifice so that the women and the
helpless little ones might live.
It is a heart-rending story, redeemed and ennobled by the heroism of
the victims. Its details are appalling. The world is full of mournings
for the dead. Nature has conquered again, destroying with ruthless hand
the most marvelous ship that ever floated on the bosom of the deep.
It is the worst disaster that ever befell any vessel. It is the
wrecking of a whole armada within one hull of steel, vaunted as
unsinkable.
The sinking of the “Titanic” is an appalling catastrophe, in the
contemplation of which any words that can be uttered are as futile as
in the presence of the awful majesty of the Angel of Death.
The maiden trip of the newest, staunchest and greatest of the modern
ocean greyhounds has thus apparently ended in the most appalling marine
disaster ever recorded.
The first advices brought word of the safe removal of all the
passengers and the possible success of the crew in their endeavor to
bring the noblest ship afloat to shallow water. Another triumph of the
wireless telegraph was hailed, and from both shores went up a paean of
thanksgiving that the overwhelming loss was not of life but of things
material, that, however valuable, are far less dear and can one day be
replaced.
But now as a bolt from the blue, and as a forecast of the final mortal
terrors of the Day of Judgment, comes the message that of 2300 souls
aboard, but 700--chiefly women and children--have been saved.
All earthly concerns beside this calamity seem to fade into littleness
and nothingness. The sole redeeming circumstance is that heroes met
their death like men, and that human love was victorious over human
terror, and mightier than Death and the open grave of the remorseless
deep.
The one alleviating circumstance in this terrible tragedy is the fact
that the men stood aside and insisted that the women and children
should first have places in the boats.
There were men who were accustomed merely to pronounce a wish to have
it gratified. For one of the humblest fishing smacks or a dory they
could have given the price that was paid to build the immense ship that
has become the most imposing mausoleum that ever housed the bones of
men since the Pyramids rose from the desert sands.
But these men stood aside--one can see them--and gave place not merely
to the delicate and the refined, but to the scared woman from the
steerage with her toddler by her side, coming through the very gate of
Death and out of the mouth of Hell to the imagined Eden of America.
To many of those who went it was harder to go than to stay there on the
vessel gaping with its mortal wounds and ready to go down. It meant
that tossing on the waters they must wait in suspense, hour after hour,
even after the lights of the ship were engulfed in appalling darkness,
hoping against hope for the miracle of a rescue dearer to them than
their own lives.
It was the tradition of Anglo-Saxon heroism that was fulfilled in the
frozen seas during the black hours of the night. The heroism was that
of the women who went, as well as of the men who remained.
The sympathy of all the world will go out to the stricken survivors of
the victims of a world-wide calamity.
INTRODUCTION.
The human imagination is unequal to the reconstruction of the appalling
scene of the disaster in the North Atlantic. No picture of the pen or
of the painter’s brush can adequately represent the magnitude of the
calamity that has made the whole world kin.
How trivial in such an hour seem the ordinary affairs of civilized
mankind--the minor ramifications of politics, the frenetic rivalry of
candidates, the haggle of stock speculators. We are suddenly, by an
awful visitation, made to see our human transactions in their true
perspective, as small as they really are.
Man’s pride is profoundly humbled: he must confess that the victory
this time has gone to the blind, inexorable forces of nature, except in
so far as the manifestation of the heroic virtues is concerned.
The ship that went to her final resting place two miles below the
placid, unconfessing level of the sea represented all that science and
art knew how to contribute to the expedition of traffic, to the comfort
and enjoyment of voyagers.
She had 15 watertight steel compartments supposed to render her
unsinkable. She was possessed of submarine signals with microphones,
to tell the bridge by means of wires when shore or ship or any other
object was at hand.
There was a collision bulkhead to safeguard the ship against the
invasion of water amidships should the bow be torn away. In a word, the
boat was as safe and sound as the shipbuilder could make it.
It was the pride of the owners and the commander that what has happened
could not possibly occur. And yet the Titanic went down, and carried to
their doom hundreds of passengers and men who intimately knew the sea
and had faced every peril that the navigator meets.
In the hours between half-past 10 on Sunday night and half-past 2
Monday morning, while the ship still floated, what did the luxuries of
their $10,000,000 castle on the ocean avail those who trod the eight
steel decks, not knowing at what moment the whole glittering fabric
might plunge with them--as it did plunge--to the unplumbed abyss below?
What was it, in those agonizing hours, to the men who remained aboard,
or to the women and children placed in the boats, that there were three
electric elevators, squash courts and Turkish baths, a hospital with an
operating room, private promenade decks and Renaissance cabins? What is
it to a man about to die to know that there is at hand a palm garden or
a darkroom for photography, or the tapestry of an English castle or a
dinner service of 10,000 pieces of silver and gold?
In that midnight crisis the one thing needful was not provided, where
everything was supplied. The one inadequacy was--the lack of lifeboats.
In the supreme confidence of the tacit assumption that they never
would be needed, the means of rescue--except in a pitiably meagre
insufficiency--was not at hand. There were apparently but 20 boats and
rafts available, each capable of sustaining at most 60 persons.
Yet the ship was built to carry 2435 passengers and 860 in the crew--a
total of 3295 persons.
Whatever the luxuriousness of the appointments, the magnificence of the
carvings and the paintings that surfeited the eye, the amplitude of the
space allotted for the promenade, it seems incredible no calculation
was made for the rescue of at least 2000 of the possible floating
population of the Titanic.
The result of the tragedy must be that aroused public opinion will
compel the formulation of new and drastic regulations, alike by the
British Board of Trade and by the Federal authorities, providing
not merely for the adequate equipment of every ship with salvatory
apparatus but for rigorous periodical inspection of the appliances and
a constant drill of the crew.
Let there be an end of boasting about the supremacy of man to the
immitigable laws and forces of nature. Let the grief of mankind be
assuaged not in idle lamentation but in amelioration of the conditions
that brought about the saddest episode in the history of ships at sea.
The particular line that owned and sent forth the vessel that has
perished has been no more to blame than others that similarly ignored
elemental precautions in favor of superfluous comforts, in a false
sense of security.
When the last boatload of priceless human life swung away from the
davits of the Titanic, it left behind on the decks of the doomed ship
hundreds of men who knew that the vessel’s mortal wound spelt Death for
them also. But no cravens these men who went to their nameless graves,
nor scourged as the galley slave to his dungeon.
Called suddenly from the ordinary pleasure of ship life and fancied
security, they were in a moment confronted with the direct peril of the
sea, and the absolute certainty that, while some could go to safety,
many must remain.
It was the supreme test, for if a man lose his life he loses all. But,
had the grim alternative thought to mock the cowardice of the breed, it
was doomed to disappointment.
Silently these men stood aside. “Women first,” the inexorable law
of the sea, which one disobeys only to court everlasting ignominy,
undoubtedly had no place in their minds. “Women first,” the common law
of humanity, born of chivalry and the nobler spirit of self-sacrifice,
prevailed.
They simply stood aside.
The first blush of poignant grief will pass from those who survive
and were bereft. But always will they sense in its fullest meaning
this greatest of all sacrifice. Ever must it remain as a reassuring
knowledge of the love, and faithfulness, and courage, of the Man, and
of his care for the weak.
“Greater love hath no man than this that a man lay down his life for
his friend.”
Hymn for Survivors of the Titanic.
By HALL CAINE;
The Great English Novelist.
[_To Tune of “God Our Help in Ages Past.”_]
Lord of the everlasting hills,
God of the boundless sea,
Help us through all the shocks of fate
To keep our trust in Thee.
When nature’s unrelenting arm
Sweeps us like withes away,
Maker of man, be Thou our strength
And our eternal stay.
When blind, insensate, heartless force
Puts out our passing breath,
Make us to see Thy guiding light
In darkness and in death.
Beneath the roll of soundless waves
Our best and bravest lie;
Give us to feel their spirits live
Immortal in the sky.
We are Thy children, frail and small,
Formed of the lowly sod,
Comfort our bruised and bleeding souls,
Father and Lord and God.
CONTENTS.
PREFACE iii
INTRODUCTION v
CONTENTS ix
GREAT MARINE DISASTERS FROM 1866 TO 1911 xiii
HYMN FOR THE SURVIVORS OF THE TITANIC, BY HALL CAINE, THE
GREAT ENGLISH NOVELIST xvi
CHAPTER I.
FROM A DAY OF DELIGHT TO DEATH.
April 14, 1912, a Fateful Date--Lulled to False Security--Peaceful
Sabbath Ends in Dire Disaster--Hopes Sink Beneath the Cruel and
Treacherous Waves of the Atlantic--Man’s Proudest Craft Crumbles
Like an Eggshell 17
CHAPTER II.
HEART-RENDING SCENES ON CARPATHIA.
The Next Day--Caring for the Sick--Meeting of the Survivors--Personal
Wireless Messages Gives Precedence--Marconi’s Appeal
Fruitless--Quartermaster Tells Story 35
CHAPTER III.
BAND PLAYED TO THE LAST.
Suffering in the Lifeboats--Statement by Ismay--Would not Desert
Husband--Thirty on Raft in Icy Water--Colonel Astor a Hero--Joked
Over Collision--Officer Saves Many Lives 45
CHAPTER IV.
NEGLECT CAUSED DISASTER.
Tardy Answer to Telephone Call--Lookout’s Signals Not Answered--Ship
Could Have Been Saved--Three Fatal Minutes--Ismay
Accused--Women Help With Oars--Ship Broken in Two--Band
Played Till Last 57
CHAPTER V.
BELIEVED SHIP UNSINKABLE.
Shots and Hymn Mingle--Titanic Settled Slowly--Best Traditions
Upheld by Passengers and Crew--Boiler Explosions Tore Ship
Apart--Anguish in the Boats--Survivors Carried to Carpathia--Not
Enough Provision Against Accident 68
CHAPTER VI.
HOW SURVIVORS ESCAPED.
Managing Director Accused--Stoker Makes Direct Charge--Supported
by Many Survivors--Tells About It--“Please Don’t Knock”--Demanded
Food--Brave Lot of Women--First Officer Shot Himself 81
CHAPTER VII.
WOMAN’S THRILLING NARRATIVE.
Barber Says Good Word for Accused Shipowner--Claims He was a
Witness--Saw the Whole Scene--Woman Tells Different Tale--Mrs.
Carter’s Thrilling Narrative--Barber’s Story Differs From
Ismay’s Own 95
CHAPTER VIII.
SURVIVORS’ STIRRING STORIES.
Survivors’ Stirring Stories--How Young Thayer Was Saved--His
Father, Second Vice President of the Pennsylvania Railroad,
Drowned--Mrs. Straus’ Pathetic Death--Black Coward Shot--Countess
Aids in Rowing Boat 103
CHAPTER IX.
HOW ASTOR WENT TO DEATH.
How Astor Went to Death--“I Resign Myself to My Fate,” He Said--Kissed
Wife Fond Farewell--Lifted Cap to Wife as Boat Left Ship--Crushed
to Death By Ice--Famous Novelist’s Daughter Hears of
His Death--Philadelphia Millionaires’ Heroism--Last to See
Widener Alive--Major Butt Dies a Soldier’s Death 113
CHAPTER X.
NOTABLE WOMAN SAVED.
Praises Captain and Crew--Bids President of Grand Trunk Railway
Good-bye--In Water for Six Hours--Saved by Cake of Ice--Boats
not Filled, she says--Millionaire Died to Save Wife’s Maid--Heroic
Sacrifice of Railroad Official 126
CHAPTER XI.
MAJOR BUTT, MARTYR TO DUTY.
Major Butt Martyr to Duty--Woman’s Soul-Stirring Tribute--Died Like
a Soldier--Was the Man of the Hour--Assisted Captain and Officers
in Saving Women--Cool as if on Dress Parade--Robert M. Daniel
Tells of Disaster and Death of Heroes--Tiny Waifs of the Sea 138
CHAPTER XII.
MRS. ASTOR’S BRAVERY.
Showed Wonderful Fortitude in the Hour of Peril--Sailors in Lifeboat
Tell of Her Heroism--Pleaded to Remain With Husband--Change
Clothes to Embark--Seamen Confirm Murdock’s Suicide--One
Heartless Fiend--Williams Killed as Funnel Fell 148
CHAPTER XIII.
LIFEBOATS BUNGLINGLY HANDLED.
Widow of College Founder Scores Management for Lack of Drill--First
Thought Damage was Slight--Aid May Have Been Near--No Oil in
Life Lamps--Hudson, N. Y., Woman’s Pathetic Recital--A. A.
Dick, of New York, Talks 159
CHAPTER XIV.
NOT LIKE BOURGOGNE DISASTER.
Lone Woman Survivor Makes Comparison--Does Not Like “Law of the
Sea”--Families First, It Should Be, She Says--Husband Greeted
Like the Hero He was--Privations and Horror Hasten Death 171
CHAPTER XV.
BOY’S DESPERATE FIGHT FOR LIFE.
Plunged Into Icy Sea--Did Not See Berg--Parted From Parents--Saw
Many Jump Overboard--Leaped Into Ocean--Eight Year Old Boy’s
Narrative--Was “Very Quiet After He Was In Boat”--Another
Lad Tells How He Saw His Uncle Die 188
CHAPTER XVI.
CARPATHIA TO THE RESCUE.
Cunarder’s Race to Titanic’s Aid--Captain Rostrom’s Unvarnished but
Dramatic Report--Knot in Operator’s Shoelace Saved Hundreds of
Lives--Was About to Retire, But Slight Delay Enabled Him to
Hear Message--Icebergs Defied in Desperate Rush 199
CHAPTER XVII.
REFUSED TO LEAVE HUSBAND.
“Where You Are I Shall Be,” Says Mrs. Isidor Straus--He Begged
Her in Vain to Enter the Waiting Lifeboat--Women Row Lifeboats--Stokers
no Oarsmen--Crazed Men Rescued--Collapsible
Boats Failed to Work 205
CHAPTER XVIII.
LADY DUFF-GORDON’S EXPERIENCES.
Says it was as if Giant Hand had Pushed Ship Down--Realistic Picture
of Titanic’s Death Plunge--The Long, Dreary Wait--Man at Wheel
Tells of Crash--Told by Phone “Iceberg Ahead” Just as Ship
Struck--Saw Captain on Bridge 216
CHAPTER XIX.
SENATORS HEAR STARTLING STORIES.
Senators Hear Startling Stories--Probing Committee Took Prompt
Action--Special Investigation to Forstall Spiriting Away of
Witnesses--Prominent Persons on Stand--Carpathia’s Captain and Head
of White Star Line Chief Witnesses--Inventor of Wireless Telegraphy
Also Testifies 235
CHAPTER XX.
SURVIVING OPERATOR’S EXPERIENCES.
Surviving Operator’s Experiences--Tells Senator How He Escaped--Tale
of Suffering and Death--Managing Director’s Flight Balked--Long
Hours and Low Wages for Wireless Men--Refused Help from
Frankfurt--Called Its Operator a Fool--Laxity of Wireless--Denies
Sending “Saved” Message--Gave Warning of Ice 248
CHAPTER XXI.
THE FUNERAL SHIP AND ITS DEAD.
116 Buried at Sea--Nearly all Sailors--No Prominent Men Buried--No
Bullet Wounds Found--Halifax’s Bells Toll for Dead--Astor’s
Body Identified--Death Ship’s Voyage--The Captain’s Story--Canon
Hind’s Narrative 258
CHAPTER XXII.
INQUIRY BY UNITED STATES SENATE.
Loading at the Rail--Inadequate Life-saving Appliances--No Extra
Lookout--Searchlights Blinding--Wireless Rivals Not All Aroused--Went
to Death in Sleep--Scratch Seamen--Cries of Agony--A
Pitiful Story--Senators Ascertain Pertinent Facts--Much Good
Accomplished 271
LIST OF TITANIC PASSENGERS MISSING AND RESCUED 281
_GREAT MARINE DISASTERS FROM 1866 TO 1911._
Among the great marine disasters on record that have resulted in loss
of lives and vessels are:
1866, Jan. 11.--Steamship London, on her way to Melbourne, foundered
in the Bay of Biscay; 220 lives lost.
1866, Oct. 3.--Steamship Evening Star, from New York to New Orleans,
foundered; about 250 lives lost.
1867, Oct. 29.--Royal Mail steamships Rhone and Wye and about 50 other
vessels driven ashore and wrecked at St. Thomas, West Indies, by a
hurricane; about 100 lives lost.
1870,--Indian Line steamship City of Boston left New York with 117
passengers and was never heard from.
1871, July 30.--Staten Island ferryboat Westfield exploded in New York
hurricane; about 1000 lives lost.
1873, Jan. 22.--British steamship North Fleet sunk in collision off
Dungeness; 300 lives lost.
1873, Nov. 23.--White Star liner Atlantic wrecked off Nova Scotia; 547
lives lost.
1873, Nov. 23.--French liner Ville du Havre, from New York to Havre,
lost in collision with ship Lochearn; sank in 16 minutes; 110 lives
lost.
1874, Dec. 26.--Immigrant vessel Cospatrick took fire and sank off
Auckland; 476 lives lost.
1875, May 7.--Hamburg Mail steamship Schiller wrecked in fog on Sicily
Isles; 200 lives lost.
1875, Nov. 4.--American steamship Pacific in collision 30 miles
southwest of Cape Flattery; 236 lives lost.
1877, Nov. 24.--U. S. sloop of war Huron wrecked off North Carolina
coast; 110 lives lost.
1878, Jan. 31.--Steamship Metropolis wrecked off North Carolina; 104
lives lost.
1878, March 24.--British training ship Eurydice, a frigate, foundered
near the Isle of Wight; 300 lives lost.
1878, Sept. 3.--British iron steamship Princess Alice sunk in
collision in the Thames; 700 lives lost.
1878, Dec. 18.--French steamship Byzantin sunk in collision in the
Dardanelles with the British steamship Rinaldo; 210 lives lost.
1879, Dec. 2.--Steamship Borusia sunk off coast of Spain; 174 lives
lost.
1880, Jan. 31.--British training ship Atlanta left Bermuda with 290
men and was never heard from.
1881, Aug. 30.--Steamship Teuton wrecked off the Cape of Good Hope;
200 lives lost.
1883, July 3.--Steamship Daphne turned turtle in the Clyde; 124 lives
lost.
1884, Jan. 18.--American steamship City of Columbus wrecked on Gay
Head Light, Mass.; 99 lives lost.
1884, April 19.--Bark Ponema and steamship State of Florida sank in
mid-ocean after collision; 145 lives lost.
1884, July 23.--Spanish steamship Gijon and British steamship Lux in
collision off Finistere; 150 lives lost.
1887, Jan. 29.--Steamship Kapunda in collision with bark Ada Melore
off coast of Brazil; 300 lives lost.
1887, Nov. 15.--British steamship Wah Young caught fire between Canton
and Hongkong; 400 lives lost.
1888, Sept. 13.--Italian steamship Sud America and steamship La France
in collision near the Canary Islands; 89 lives lost.
1889, March 16.--U. S. warship Trenton, Vandalia and Lipsic and German
ships Adler and Eber wrecked on Samoan Islands; 147 lives lost.
1890, Jan. 2.--Steamship Persia wrecked off Corsica; 130 lives lost.
1890, Feb. 17.--British steamship Duburg wrecked in China Sea; 400
lives lost.
1890, March 1.--British steamship Quetia foundered in Lorres Straits;
124 lives lost.
1890, Sept. 19.--Turkish frigate Ertogrul foundered off Japan; 540
lives lost.
1890, Dec. 27.--British steamship Shanghai burned in China Sea; 101
lives lost.
1891, March 17.--Anchor liner Utopia in collision with British
steamship Anson off Gibraltar and sunk; 574 lives lost.
1891, April 16.--British ship St. Catharis wrecked off Caroline
Island; 90 lives lost.
1892, Jan. 13.--Steamship Namehow wrecked in China Sea; 414 lives lost.
1892, Oct. 28.--Anchor liner Romania wrecked off Corsica; 113 lives
lost.
1893, Feb. 8.--Anchor line Trinalria wrecked off Spain; 115 lives lost.
1893, June 22.--British battleship Pretoria sunk in collision with the
Camperdown off Syria; 357 lives lost.
1894, Nov. 1.--Steamship Wairaro wrecked off New Zealand; 134 lives
lost.
1894, June 25.--Steamship Norge wrecked on Rockall Reef in North
Atlantic; nearly 600 lives lost.
1895, Jan. 30.--German steamship Elbe, sunk in collision with British
steamship Grathie in North Sea; 335 lives lost.
1895, March 11.--Spanish cruiser Reina Regenta foundered in Atlantic
at entrance to Mediterranean; 400 lives lost.
1898, July 2.--Steamship Bourgogne rammed British steel sailing vessel
Cromartshire and sank rapidly; 571 lives lost.
1904, June 15.--General Slocum, excursion steamboat with 1400 persons
aboard; took fire going through Hell Gate, East River; more than 1000
lives lost.
1905, Sept. 12.--Japanese warship Mikasa sunk after explosion in
Sasebo harbor; 599 lives lost.
1907, Feb. 12.--Steamship Larchmont in collision with Harry Hamilton
in Long Island Sound; 183 lives lost.
1907, Feb. 21.--English mail steamship Berlin wrecked off the Hook of
Holland; 142 lives lost.
1907, Feb. 24.--Austrian Lloyd steamship Imperatrix, from Trieste to
Bombay, wrecked on Cape of Crete and sunk; 137 lives lost.
1907, Jan.--British steamship Pengwern foundered in the North Sea;
crew and 24 men lost.
1907, Jan.--Prinz Waldemar, Hamburg-American line, aground at
Kingston, Jamaica, after earthquake; 3 lives lost.
1907, Feb.--French warship Jean Bart, sunk off coast of Morocco.
1907, March.--Steamship Congo sunk at mouth of Ems river by German
steamship Nerissa; 7 lives lost.
1907, March.--French warship Jena, blown up at Toulon; 120 lives lost.
1907, July.--Steamship Columbia, sunk off Shelton Cove, California, in
collision with steamship San Pedro; 50 lives lost.
1908, Feb. 3.--Steamship St. Cuthbert, bound from Antwerp to New York,
burned at sea on Nova Scotia; 15 lives lost.
1908, April 25.--British cruiser Gladiator rammed by American liner
St. Paul off Isle of Wight; 30 lives lost.
1908, July.--Chinese warship Ying King foundered; 300 lives lost.
1908, Aug. 24.--Steamship Folgenenden wrecked; 70 persons lost.
1908, Nov. 6.--Steamship Taish sunk in storm off Etoro Island; 150
lives lost.
1911, Feb. 2.--Steamship Abenton wrecked; 70 lives lost.
1911, April 23.--Steamship Asia ran aground; 40 lives lost.
1911, Sept. 5.--Steamship Tuscapel wrecked; 81 lives lost.
1911, Oct. 2.--Steamship Hatfield in collision and sunk; 207 lives
lost.
1911, April 2.--Steamship Koombuna wrecked; 150 lives lost.
HUNDREDS WEEP AT MEMORIAL SERVICES HELD FOR “ARCHIE” BUTT.
Fifteen hundred sincere mourners for Major Archibald W. Butt, lost on
the Titanic, wept unashamed at his home in Augusta, Georgia, on May 2,
when President Taft called his former aid affectionately by his first
name and choked with tears as he paid a personal tribute to the army
officer.
It was at a monster memorial service for the soldier, where all Augusta
paid homage to his memory. President Taft was the main speaker. He was
deeply affected by the solemn ritual.
“If Archie could have selected a time to die he would have chosen the
one God gave him,” the President said, his voice broken with emotion.
“His life was spent in self-sacrifice, serving others. His
forgetfulness of self had become a part of his nature.
“Everybody who knew him called him Archie.
“I couldn’t prepare anything in advance to say here,” the President
continued. “I tried, but couldn’t. He was too near me. He was loyal to
my predecessor, Mr. Roosevelt, who selected him to be military aid, and
to me he had become as a son or a brother.”
Taft pictured a new side to Major Butt’s character--his love for his
mother.
“I think he never married because of that love for her who was taken
from him two years ago,” the President declared.
[Illustration:
IN MEMORIAM
OF THE
STEAMSHIP
TITANIC’S
DEAD
]
[Illustration: TRIPLE SCREW STEAMER “TITANIC” WAS THE LARGEST AND
FINEST VESSEL IN THE WORLD: 882½ FEET LONG, 45,000 TONS REGISTER, 92½
FEET WIDE]
[Illustration:
Life boats of the “Titanic” which would only hold one third of the
passengers. All could have been saved had there been a sufficient
number of boats. These few boats rescued all that were saved from this
appalling disaster.
]
[Illustration: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
STEAMSHIP “TITANIC” SHOWING LENGTH AS COMPARED WITH THE HIGHEST
BUILDINGS.
1 Bunker Hill Monument, Boston 221 Feet High
2 Public Buildings, Philadelphia 534 Feet High
3 Washington Monument, Washington 555 Feet High
4 Metropolitan Tower, New York 700 Feet High
5 New Woolworth Building, New York 750 Feet High
6 White Star Line’s Triple Screw Steamer “TITANIC” 882½ Feet Long
7 Cologne Cathedral, Cologne, Germany 516 Feet High
8 Grand Pyramid, Gizeh, Africa 451 Feet High
9 St. Peter’s Church, Rome, Italy 448 Feet High
]
[Illustration: ENTRANCE HALL AND GRAND STAIRCASE OF THE “TITANIC”
A striking introduction to the wonders and beauty of the “Titanic” is
the entrance hall and grand staircase in the forward section where
one begins to realize for the first time the magnificence of this
surpassing steamer. It is the largest and finest steamship in the
world. It is indeed a floating palace.
]
[Illustration:
CAPTAIN ROSTRON, OF THE “CARPATHIA,” WHO RUSHED HIS SHIP TO THE RESCUE
OF THE “TITANIC’S” PASSENGERS AND BROUGHT THEM TO NEW YORK. THIS BOOK
CONTAINS MANY THRILLING STORIES THAT WERE TOLD BY PASSENGERS WHILE
ABOARD THIS RESCUE SHIP
]
[Illustration: WILLIAM T. STEAD OF LONDON, ENGLAND
EDITOR REVIEW OF REVIEWS, WHO STOOD BY CAPTAIN SMITH WHEN THE SHIP WAS
SINKING AND WITHOUT TREPIDATION WENT TO A WATERY GRAVE]
[Illustration: HUGE ICEBERG AS PHOTOGRAPHED ABOUT 100 MILES NORTH OF
THE SCENE OF THE “TITANIC” DISASTER.]
[Illustration: ISADORE STRAUS
THE NEW YORK MILLIONAIRE MERCHANT AND PHILANTHROPIST WHO LOST HIS LIFE
ON THE GIANT TITANIC.]
[Illustration: A TYPE OF MAGNIFICENT OCEAN GREY HOUND. THE STEAMSHIP
“KAISERIN AUGUSTE VICTORIA” OF HAMBURG-AMERICAN LINE.
This steamer is 700 feet long, 77 feet wide and 54 feet deep. She has
accommodations for 550 first-class passengers, 350 second-class, 300
third-class and 2300 steerage passengers, making altogether a floating
city of 3500 population.
]
[Illustration: MAIN DINING ROOM, STEAMSHIP “KAISERIN AUGUSTE VICTORIA,”
OF THE HAMBURG-AMERICAN LINE.
It has promenade decks, large cabins with lower berths only, grand
combination suites of rooms, and in addition to the grand dining saloon
a perfectly equipped restaurant. Small tables have been provided in
place of the long tables that have for many years been in use on
steamships.]
[Illustration: SEEKING INFORMATION ABOUT LOST RELATIVES AND FRIENDS AT
THE OFFICE OF THE STEAMSHIP COMPANY.]
[Illustration: EFFECT OF THE MIRAGE AS SEEN AMONG THE ICE FLOES.]
[Illustration: THE SINKING “TITANIC” CARRYING HUNDREDS OF SOULS TO
WATERY GRAVES BEFORE THE EYES OF TERRIFIED SURVIVORS IN LIFEBOATS. THIS
AWFUL TRAGEDY SENT A MAGNIFICENT SHIP THAT WAS CALLED “UNSINKABLE” TO
THE BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN AFTER RUNNING INTO AN ICEBERG]
[Illustration:
COPYRIGHT BY UNDERWOOD & UNDERWOOD, N. Y.
THESE BRIGHT LITTLE FRENCH CHILDREN WERE RESCUED FROM THE “TITANIC;”
MISS HAYS, HERSELF A SURVIVOR, IS TAKING CARE OF THEM. THEY WERE COMING
TO AMERICA WITH THEIR FATHER, WHO WENT DOWN WITH THE SHIP]
[Illustration: SINKING OF THE “TITANIC.” THERE WAS A MIGHTY ROAR WHEN
THE SHIP WENT DOWN. THE BOW SANK FIRST, WITH STERN POISED IN THE AIR,
WHEN SUDDENLY IT PLUNGED OUT OF SIGHT, CARRYING HUNDREDS OF SOULS TO
ETERNITY]
CHAPTER I.
FROM A DAY OF DELIGHT TO DEATH.
April 14, 1912, a Fateful Date--Lulled to False Security--Peaceful
Sabbath Ends in Dire Disaster--Hopes Sink Beneath the Cruel and
Treacherous Waves of the Atlantic--Man’s Proudest Craft Crumbles Like
an Eggshell.
The hands of the ship’s clock pointed to 11.40. The beautiful day of
April 14, 1912, rapidly was drawing to its close.
A solemn hush brooded over the ocean, the stillness broken only by the
swish of the waters as they protested against being so rudely brushed
aside by the mammoth creation of man. Then, too, the soft cadences of
sacred music from the ship’s orchestra sent their strains dancing o’er
the billows to mingle with the star beam and intensify rather than mar
the stillness.
Above, the stars and planets twinkled and glittered as they beam only
in the rarified atmosphere of the far northern latitudes.
The day had been one of rare beauty. A soft and caressing breeze had
kissed the sea and rocked the waves in a harmonious symphony against
the steel-ribbed sides of the world’s largest, greatest and most
luxurious floating palace, the majestic Titanic, the newest addition to
the trans-Atlantic fleet of the White Star Line of the International
Navigation Company.
The star-sprinkled dome of heaven and the phosphorescent sea alike
breathed forth peace, quiet and security.
Despite the lateness of the hour, aboard the Titanic all was animation.
A few, to be sure, had wearied of Nature’s marvels and had sought their
slumber, but the gorgeous quarters of the first cabin and the scarcely
less pretentious sections set apart for second class passengers were
alike teeming with life and light.
Meanwhile, as they had for days past, the mighty engines of this
monster of the sea pulsed and throbbed, while the rhythmic beat of the
Titanic’s great bronze-bladed propellors churned up a fast and steadily
lengthening wake behind the speeded vessel.
“We’ll break the record today,” her officers laughed, and the
passengers gleefully shared their mirth.
A record; a record!
And a record she made--but of death and destruction!
But who could know? And since no mortal could, why not eat, drink and
be merry?
Britain’s shores had been left behind far back across the waste of
waters. America, the land of hope, was almost in sight ahead.
TALK OF HOME AND FRIENDS AND LIFE.
Small wonder that hundreds still strolled the Titanic’s spotless,
unsullied decks and talked of home and friends and life and joy and
hope. Small wonder that other hundreds lounged at ease in her luxurious
saloons and smoking rooms, while other scores of voyagers, their
appetites whetted by the invigorating air, sat at a midnight supper to
welcome the new week with a feast.
Why sleep when the wealth, the beauty, the brains, the aristocracy as
well as the bone and sinew of a nation were all around one?
For, be it known, never before did ship carry so distinguished a
company--a passenger list that reads like a Social Blue Book.
This maiden trip of the Titanic was an event that was to go down in
history, they thought.
And so it will, but with tears on every page of the narrative and the
wails of women and children in every syllable.
But since the future is unrolled only in God’s own good time, how could
they know?
Why wonder at their presence?
Was this not the first trip of the greatest triumph of marine
architecture?
Had not the wealth and fashion of two continents so arranged their
plans as to be numbered on its first passenger list?
Had not the hardy immigrant skimped and saved and schemed that he
and his family should be carried to the Land of Promise aboard this
greatest of all ships?
What mattered it to him that his place was in the steerage? Did not
each pulsing throb of the Titanic’s mighty engines bear him as far and
as fast as though he, too, already held in his hand the millions he
felt he was destined to win in this golden land of opportunity beyond
the seas?
And so, from the loftiest promenade deck to the lowest stoke hole in
the vitals of the ship peace and comfort and happiness reigned.
APPROACHING HOME AND FRIENDS.
To some the rapidly-nearing shores of America meant home--and friends.
To others, opportunity--and work. Yet to all it meant the culmination
of a voyage which, so far, had been one all-too-short holiday from the
bustle and turmoil of a busy world.
“Man proposes, but God disposes!”
Never were truer words uttered, nor phrase more fitting to that fateful
hour.
“In the midst of life we are in death.”
Yet the soft breeze from the south still spread its balmy, salt-laden
odors to delight their senses and to lull them to a feeling of complete
security.
What was that?
A cold breath as from the fastnesses of the Frost King swept the
steamer’s decks.
A shiver of chill drove the wearied passengers below, but sent the
ship’s officers scurrying to their stations. The seaman, and the seaman
alone, knew that that icy chill portended icebergs--and near at hand.
Besides, twice in the last few hours had the wireless ticked its
warnings from passing vessels that the Titanic was in the vicinity of
immense floes.
Why had the warning not been heeded?
Why had the ponderous engines continued to thunder with the might of a
hundred thousand horses, and the ship to plunge forward into the night
with the unchecked speed of an express train?
God knows!
The captain knew, but his lips are sealed in death as, a self-inflicted
bullet in his brain, he lies in the cold embrace of the sea he had
loved and had defied--too long.
THE LOOKOUT’S WARNING CRY.
Perhaps Bruce Ismay, the managing director of the line, who was on
board--and survived when women drowned--also knows. Perhaps he will
tell by whose orders those danger warnings were scoffed at and ignored.
Perhaps; perhaps!
The lookout uttered a sharp cry!
Too late!
One grinding crash and the Titanic had received its death blow. Man’s
proudest craft crumbled like an eggshell.
Ripped from stem to engine room by the great mass of ice she struck
amidships, the Titanic’s side was laid open as if by a gigantic can
opener. She quickly listed to starboard and a shower of ice fell on to
the forecastle deck.
Shortly before she sank she broke in two abaft the engine room, and as
she disappeared beneath the water the expulsion of air or her boilers
caused two explosions, which were plainly heard by the survivors adrift.
A moment more and the Titanic had gone to her doom with the fated
hundreds grouped on the after deck. To the survivors they were visible
to the last, and their cries and moans were pitiable.
The one alleviating circumstance in the otherwise unmitigable tragedy
is the fact that the men stood aside and insisted that the women and
the children should first have places in the boats.
There were men whose word of command swayed boards of directors,
governed institutions, disposed of millions. They were accustomed
merely to pronounce a wish to have it gratified.
Thousands “posted at their bidding;” the complexion of the market
altered hue when they nodded; they bought what they wanted, and for
one of the humblest fishing smacks or a dory they could have given the
price that was paid to build and launch the ship that has become the
most imposing mausoleum that ever housed the bones of men since the
Pyramids rose from the desert sands.
But these men stood aside--one can see them--and gave place not merely
to the delicate and the refined, but to the scared Czech woman from the
steerage, with her baby at her breast; the Croatian with a toddler by
her side, coming through the very gate of Death and out of the mouth of
Hell to the imagined Eden of America.
HARDER TO GO THAN TO STAY.
To many of those who went it was harder to go than to stay there on the
vessel gaping with its mortal wounds and ready to go down. It meant
that tossing on the waters they must wait in suspense, hour after hour
even after the lights of the ship were engulfed in appalling darkness,
hoping against hope for the miracle of a rescue dearer to them than
their own lives.
It was the tradition of Anglo-Saxon heroism that was fulfilled in the
frozen seas during the black hours of that Sunday night. The heroism
was that of the women who went, as well as of the men who remained.
The most adequate story of the terrible disaster is told by a trained
newspaper man, who was on the Carpathia. He says:
Cause, responsibility and similar questions regarding the stupendous
disaster will be taken up in time by the British marine authorities.
No disposition has been shown by any survivor to question the courage
of the crew, hundreds of whom saved others and gave their own lives
with a heroism which equaled, but could not exceed, that of John Jacob
Astor, Henry B. Harris, Jacques Futrelle and others in the long list of
the first cabin missing.
Facts which I have established by inquiries on the Carpathia, as
positively as they could be established in view of the silence of the
few surviving officers, are:
That the Titanic’s officers knew, several hours before the crash, of
the possible nearness of icebergs.
That the Titanic’s speed, nearly twenty-three knots an hour, was not
slackened.
INSUFFICIENT LIFE-BOATS.
That the number of lifeboats on the Titanic was insufficient to
accommodate much more than one-third of the passengers, to say nothing
of the crew. Most members of the crew say there were sixteen lifeboats
and two collapsibles; none say there were more than twenty boats in
all. The 700 who escaped filled most of the sixteen lifeboats and the
one collapsible which got away, to the limit of their capacity.
That the “women first” rule, in some cases, was applied to the extent
of turning back men who were with their families, even though not
enough women to fill the boats were at hand on that particular part of
the deck. Some few boats were thus lowered without being completely
filled, but most of these were soon filled with sailors and stewards,
picked up out of the water, who helped man them.
That the bulkhead system, though probably working in the manner
intended, availed only to delay the ship’s sinking. The position and
length of the ship’s wound (on the starboard quarter) admitted icy
water, which caused the boilers to explode, and these explosions
practically broke the ship in two.
Had the ship struck the iceberg head-on, at whatever speed, and
with whatever resultant shock, the bulkhead system of water-tight
compartments would probably have saved the vessel. As one man expressed
it, it was the “impossible” that happened when, with a shock
unbelievably mild, the ship’s side was torn for a length which made the
bulkhead system ineffective.
The Titanic was 1799 miles from Queenstown and 1191 miles from New
York, speeding for a maiden voyage record. The night was starlight, the
sea glassy. Lights were out in most of the staterooms and only two or
three congenial groups remained in the public rooms.
In the crows’ nest, or lookout, and on the bridge, officers and members
of the crew were at their places, awaiting relief at midnight from
their two hours’ watch.
At 11.45 came the sudden sound of two gongs, a warning of immediate
danger.
The crash against the iceberg, which had been sighted at only a quarter
of a mile, came almost simultaneously with the clink of the levers
operated by those on the bridge, which stopped the engine and closed
the watertight doors.
CAPTAIN SMITH ON THE BRIDGE.
Captain Smith was on the bridge a moment later, giving orders for the
summoning of all on board and for the putting on of life preservers and
the lowering of the lifeboats.
The first boats lowered contained more men passengers than the latter
ones, as the men were on deck first, and not enough women were there to
fill them.
When, a moment later, the rush of frightened women and crying children
to the deck began, enforcement of the women-first rule became rigid.
Officers loading some of the boats drew revolvers, but in most cases
the men, both passengers and crew, behaved in a way that called for no
such restraint.
Revolver shots, heard by many persons shortly before the end of the
Titanic caused many rumors. One was that Captain Smith shot himself,
another was that First Officer Murdock ended his life. Smith, Murdock
and Sixth Officer Moody are known to have been lost. The surviving
officers, Lightoller, Pitman, Boxhall and Lowe, have made no statement.
Members of the crew discredit all reports of suicide, and say Captain
Smith remained on the bridge until just before the ship sank, leaping
only after those on the decks had been washed away. It is also related
that, when a cook later sought to pull him aboard a lifeboat, he
exclaimed, “Let me go!” and, jerking away, went down.
What became of the men with life preservers? is a question asked
since the disaster by many persons. The preservers did their work of
supporting their wearers in the water until the ship went down. Many of
those drawn into the vortex, despite the preservers, did not come up
again. Dead bodies floated on the surface as the last boats moved away.
“NEARER MY GOD TO THEE.”
To relate that the ship’s string band gathered in the saloon, near the
end, and played “Nearer, My God, To Thee,” sounds like an attempt to
give an added solemn color to a scene which was in itself the climax
of solemnity. But various passengers and survivors of the crew agree
in the declaration that they heard this music. To some of the hearers,
with husbands among the dying men in the water, and at the ship’s rail,
the strain brought in thought the words
“So, by my woes I’ll be
Nearer, My God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee.”
“Women and children first,” was the order in the filling of the
Titanic’s lifeboats. How well that order was fulfilled, the list of
missing first and second cabin passengers bears eloquent witness. “Mr.”
is before almost every name, and the contrast is but made stronger
by the presence of a few names of women--Mrs. Isidor Straus, who
chose death rather than to leave her husband’s side; Mrs. Allison,
who remained below with her husband and daughter, and others who, in
various ways, were kept from entering the line of those to be saved.
To most of the passengers, the midnight crash against the ice mountain
did not seem of terrific force. Many were so little disturbed by it
that they hesitated to dress and put on life preservers, even when
summoned by that thundering knocks and shouts of the stewards. Bridge
players in the smoking room kept on with their game.
Once on deck, many hesitated to enter the swinging lifeboats. The
glassy sea, the starlit sky, the absence, in the first few moments,
of intense excitement, gave them the feeling that there was only some
slight mishap--that those who got into the boats would have a chilly
half-hour below, and might later be laughed at.
It was such a feeling as this, from all accounts, which caused John
Jacob Astor and his wife to refuse the places offered them in the first
boat, and to retire to the gymnasium. In the same way, H. J. Allison,
Montreal banker, laughed at the warning, and his wife, reassured by
him, took her time about dressing. They and their daughter did not
reach the Carpathia. Their son, less than two years old, was carried
into a lifeboat by his nurse, and was taken in charge by Major Arthur
Peuchen.
ADMIRATION AND CONFIDENCE.
The admiration felt by passengers and crew for the matchlessly
appointed vessel was translated, in those first few moments, into a
confidence which for some proved deadly.
In the loading of the first boat restrictions of sex were not made, and
it seemed to the men who piled in beside the women that there would
be boats enough for all. But the ship’s officers knew better than
this, and as the spreading fear caused an earnest advance toward the
suspended craft, the order, “Women first!” was heard, and the men were
pushed aside.
To the scenes of the next two hours on those decks and in the waters
below, such adjectives as “dramatic” and “tragic” do but poor justice.
With the knowledge of deadly peril gaining greater power each moment
over those men and women, the nobility of the greater part, both among
cabin passengers, officers, crew and steerage, asserted itself.
Isidor Straus, supporting his wife on her way to a lifeboat, was held
back by an inexorable guard. Another officer strove to help her to a
seat of safety, but she brushed away his arm and clung to her husband,
crying, “I will not go without you.”
Another woman took her place, and her form, clinging to her husband’s,
became part of a picture now drawn indelibly in many minds. Neither
wife nor husband reached a place of safety.
Colonel Astor, holding his young wife’s arm, stood decorously aside as
the officers spoke to him, and Mrs. Astor and her maid were ushered to
seats. Mrs. Henry B. Harris, parted in like manner from her husband,
saw him last at the rail, beside Colonel Astor. Walter M. Clark, of Los
Angeles, nephew of the Montana Senator, joined the line of men as his
young wife, sobbing, was placed in one of the boats.
AN AGONIZING SEPARATION.
“Let him come! There is room!” cried Mrs. Emil Taussig as the men of
the White Star Line motioned to her husband to leave her. It was with
difficulty that he released her hold to permit her to be led to her
place.
George D. Widener, who had been in Captain Smith’s company a few
moments after the crash, was another whose wife was parted from him and
lowered a moment later to the surface of the calm sea.
Of Major Archie Butt, a favorite with his fellow tourists; of Charles
M. Hayes, president of the Grand Trunk; of Benjamin Guggenheim and of
William T. Stead, no one seems to know whether they tarried too long in
their staterooms or whether they forebore to approach the fast filling
boats, none of them was in the throng which, weary hours afterward,
reached the Carpathia.
Simultaneously on all the upper decks of the ship the ropes creaked
with the lowering of the boats. As they reached the water, those in
the boats saw what those on the decks could not see--that the Titanic
was listing rapidly to starboard, and that her stern was rising at a
portentous angle. A rush of steerage men toward the boats was checked
by officers with revolvers in hand.
Some of the boats, crowded too full to give rowers a chance, drifted
for a time. None had provisions or water; there was lack of covering
from the icy air, and the only lights were the still undimmed arcs and
incandescents of the settling ship, save for one of the first boats.
There a steward, who explained to the passengers that he had been
shipwrecked twice before, appeared carrying three oranges and a green
light.
That green light, many of the survivors say, was to the shipwrecked
hundreds as the pillar of fire by night. Long after the ship had
disappeared, and while confusing false lights danced about the boats,
the green lantern kept them together on the course which led them to
the Carpathia.
ECHOING SPLASH OF CHILLY WATERS.
As the end of the Titanic became manifestly but a matter of moments,
the oarsmen pulled their boats away, and the chilling waters began
to echo splash after splash as the passengers and sailors in life
preservers leaped over and started swimming away to escape the expected
suction.
Only the hardiest of constitutions could endure for more than a few
moments such a numbing bath. The first vigorous strokes gave way to the
heart-breaking cries of “Help! Help!” and stiffened forms were seen
floating, the faces relaxed in death.
Revolver shots were heard in the ship’s last moments. The first report
spread among the boats was that Captain Smith had ended his life with
a bullet. Then it was said that a mate had shot a steward who tried to
push his way upon a boat against orders. None of these tales has been
verified, and many of the crew say the captain, without a preserver,
leaped in at the last and went down, refusing a cook’s offered aid.
The last of the boats, a collapsible, was launched too late to get
away, and was overturned by the ship’s sinking. Some of those in
it--all, say some witnesses--found safety on a raft or were picked up
by lifeboats.
In the Marconi tower, almost to the last, the loud click of the sending
instrument was heard over the waters. Who was receiving the message,
those in the boats did not know, and they would least of all have
supposed that a Mediterranean ship in the distant South Atlantic track
would be their rescuer.
As the screams in the water multiplied, another sound was heard, strong
and clear at first, then fainter in the distance. It was the melody
of the hymn “Nearer, My God, to Thee,” played by the string orchestra
in the dining saloon. Some of those on the water started to sing the
words, but grew silent as they realized that for the men who played
the music was a sacrament soon to be consummated by death. The serene
strains of the hymn and the frantic cries of the dying blended in a
symphony of sorrow.
BOATS FOLLOW THE GREEN LIGHT.
Led by the green light, under the light of the stars, the boats drew
away, and the bow, then the quarter, then the stacks and at last the
stern of the marvel-ship of a few days before passed beneath the
waters. The great force of the ship’s sinking was unaided by any
violence of the elements, and the suction, into so great as had been
feared, rocked but mildly the group of boats now a quarter of a mile
distant from it.
Sixteen boats were in the forlorn procession which entered on the
terrible hours of rowing, drifting and suspense. Women wept for lost
husbands and sons. Sailors sobbed for the ship which had been their
pride. Men chocked back tears and sought to comfort the widowed.
Perhaps, they said, other boats might have put off in another direction
toward the last. They strove, though none too sure themselves, to
convince the women of the certainty that a rescue ship would appear.
Early dawn brought no ship, but not long after 5 A. M. the Carpathia,
far out of her path and making eighteen knots, instead of her wonted
fifteen, showed her single red and black smokestack upon the horizon.
In the joy of that moment, the heaviest griefs were forgotten.
Soon afterward Captain Rostrom and Chief Steward Hughes were welcoming
the chilled and bedraggled arrivals over the Carpathia’s side.
Terrible as were the San Francisco, Slocum and Iroquois disasters, they
shrink to local events in comparison with this world-catastrophe.
True, there were others of greater qualifications and longer experience
than I nearer the tragedy--but they, by every token of likelihood, have
become a part of the tragedy. The honored--must I say lamented--Stead,
the adroit Jacques Futrelle, what might they not tell were their hands
able to hold pencil?
The silence of the Carpathia’s engines, the piercing cold, the clamor
of many voices in the companionways, caused me to dress hurriedly
and awaken my wife at 5.40 A. M. Monday. Our stewardess, meeting me
outside, pointed to a wailing host in the rear dining room and said,
“From the Titanic. She’s at the bottom of the ocean.”
THE LAST OF THE LINE OF BOATS.
At the ship’s side, a moment later, I saw the last of the line of boats
discharge their loads, and saw women, some with cheap shawls about
their heads, some with the costliest of fur cloaks, ascending the
ship’s side. And such joy as the first sight of our ship may have given
them had disappeared from their faces, and there were tears and signs
of faltering as the women were helped up the ladders or hoisted aboard
in swings. For lack of room to put them, several of the Titanic’s boats
after unloading were set adrift.
At our north was a broad icefield, the length of hundreds of
Carpathias. Around us on other sides were sharp and glistening peaks.
One black berg, seen about 10 A. M., was said to be that which sunk the
Titanic.
In his tiny house over the second cabin smoking room was Harold Cotton,
the Marconi operator, a ruddy English youth, whose work at his post, on
what seemed ordinary duty, until almost midnight, had probably saved
the lives of the huddling hundreds below.
Already he was knitting his brows over the problem of handling the
messages which were coming in batches from the purser’s office. The
haste with which these Marconigrams were prepared by their senders was
needless, in view of the wait of two days and two nights for a long
connection. “Safe” was the word with which most of the messages began;
then, in many of them, came the words “---- missing.”
Dishevelled women, who the night before could have drawn thousands
from husbands’ letters of credit or from Titanic’s safe, stood
penniless before the Carpathia’s purser, asking that their messages be
forwarded--collect. Their messages were taken with the rest.
HOPE REVIVED BY SIGHT OF CATTLE BOAT.
The Californian, a cattle ship, came near us, and though it gave no
sign of having any of the Titanic’s refugees on board, its presence in
the vicinity gave hope to many women who were encouraged in the belief
that the Californian might have picked up their loved ones.
Captain Rostrom’s decision to abandon the Mediterranean course, begun
the Thursday before, and to return to an American port, was soon known
to the passengers. At first it was reported that Halifax or Boston
would be the destination, but at noon the notice of the intended
arrival at New York three days later was posted. At that time the
Carpathia, at an increase over her usual moderate speed, was westward
bound and her passengers were deferring their hopes of Gibraltar,
Naples and Trieste, and were sharing their rooms with the newcomers.
Few men of the Carpathia’s passenger list slept in a bed in any of the
nights that followed. They had the men of the Titanic lay in chairs on
deck, on dining tables or smoking-room couches, or on the floors of the
rooms which held their hand baggage and their curtained-off guests. The
captain was the first to vacate his room, which was used as a hospital.
In the first cabin library, women of wealth and refinement mingled
their grief and asked eagerly for news of the possible arrival of a
belated boat, or a message from some other steamer telling of the
safety of their husbands. Mrs. Henry B. Harris, wife of a New York
theatrical manager, checked her tears long enough to beg that some
message of hope be sent to her father-in-law. Mrs. Ella Thor, Miss
Marie Young, Mrs. Emil Taussig and her daughter, Ruth; Mrs. Martin
Rothschild, Mrs. William Augustus Spencer, Mrs. J. Stuart White and
Mrs. Walter M. Clark were a few of those who lay back, exhausted,
on the leather cushions and told in shuttering sentences of their
experiences.
PROUD OF HER HUSBAND’S OARSMANSHIP.
Mrs. John Jacob Astor and the Countess of Rothes had been taken to
staterooms soon after their arrival on shipboard. Those who talked with
Mrs. Astor said she spoke often of her husband’s ability as an oarsman
and said he could save himself if he had a chance. That he could have
had such a chance, she seemed hardly to hope.
To another stateroom a tall, dark man had been conducted, his
head bowed, anguish in his face. He was Bruce Ismay, head of the
International Mercantile Marine and chief owner of the Titanic and her
sister ship, the Olympic. He has made the maiden voyage on each of his
company’s great ships. He remained in his room in a physician’s care
during the voyage back to New York. Captain Rostrom, his only caller,
was not admitted to see him until Tuesday evening.
Before noon, at the captain’s request, the first cabin passengers of
the Titanic gathered in the saloon, and the passengers of other classes
in corresponding places on the rescue ship. Then the collecting of
names was begun by the purser and the stewards. A second table was
served in both cabins for the new guests, and the Carpathia’s second
cabin, being better fitted than its first, the second class arrivals
had to be sent to the steerage.
In the middle of the morning, the Carpathia passed near the spot,
seamen said, where the Titanic went down. Only a few floating chairs
marked the place. The ice peaks had changed their position. Which of
those in sight, if any, caused the wreck was matter of conjecture.
Those of the refugees who had not lost relatives found subject for
distress in the reflection that their money and jewels were at the
bottom of the sea. Miss Edith L. Rosenbaum, writer for a fashion trade
journal, mourned the loss of trunks containing robes from Paris and
Tunis. Several of the late works of Philip Mock, miniature painter,
were in his lost baggage, but the artist was not inclined to dwell on
this mishap.
AN OBJECT OF PITYING SIGHS.
The child of the Montreal Allisons, bereft of both parents and carried
by a nurse, was an object of pitying sighs in the saloon. In the
second cabin, two French children engaged pitying attention. The
two boys, four and two years old, who had lost their mother a year
before and their father the night before, were children of beauty
and intelligence, but were too abashed to answer any questions, even
those put in their native tongue. Their surname is believed to be
Hoffman. They are now in the care of Miss Margaret Hays, of 304 West
Eighty-third street, New York.
Reminiscences of two bridge whist games of Sunday night in the
smoking-room and the lounge room were exchanged by passengers who
believed that the protracted games, a violation of the strict Sabbath
rules of English vessels, saved their lives. Alfred Drachenstadt was
leader in the smoking-room game, Miss Dorothy Gibson in the other.
Mrs. Jacques Futrelle, wife of the novelist, herself a writer of note,
sat dry-eyed in the saloon, telling her friends that she had given up
hope for her husband. She joined with the rest in inquiries as to the
chances of rescue by another ship, and no one told her what soon came
to be the fixed opinion of the men--that all those saved were on the
Carpathia.
[Illustration:
PHOTO. BY UNDERWOOD & UNDERWOOD, N. Y.
CAPTAIN SMITH, OF THE “TITANIC” WHO HEROICALLY DID ALL HE COULD DO TO
SAVE WOMEN AND CHILDREN AND THEN LIKE THE TRUE HERO HE WAS WENT DOWN
WITH HIS SHIP.]
[Illustration: COL. JOHN JACOB ASTOR.
GRANDSON OF THE FOUNDER OF THE ASTOR FAMILY IN AMERICA, AFTER PUTTING
HIS YOUNG BRIDE IN A LIFE BOAT HE REMAINED ON THE SHIP AND DIED AS A
HERO.]
[Illustration:
PHOTO BY PAUL THOMPSON, N. Y.
CUNARD LINE STEAMSHIP “CARPATHIA,” WHICH HEARD THE WIRELESS CALL OF
DISTRESS AND WAS FIRST TO REACH THE SCENE OF THE DISASTER AND TAKE ON
BOARD THE SURVIVORS WHO WERE FOUND IN THE LIFEBOATS]
[Illustration: RESCUED PASSENGERS IN ONE OF THE “TITANIC’S”
COLLAPSEABLE LIFE-BOATS WAITING TO BE TAKEN ABOARD THE CARPATHIA.]
[Illustration:
SCENE ON THE UPPER DECK OF THE “TITANIC,” SHOWING LIFE BOATS AS THEY
ARE CARRIED BY ALL STEAMSHIPS. ALL THE PASSENGERS COULD HAVE BEEN
SAVED IF THIS SHIP HAD CARRIED THREE TIMES AS MANY LIFEBOATS.
]
[Illustration: WIRELESS OPERATOR SENDING MESSAGES. BUT FOR THE
WIRELESS, THE “TITANIC’S” PASSENGERS WOULD SURELY HAVE ALL BEEN LOST,
AS THEY COULD NOT HAVE SURVIVED IN SMALL BOATS WITH ICE ALL AROUND
THEM]
[Illustration: MRS. JOHN JACOB ASTOR.
BRIDE OF COLONEL ASTOR WHO WENT DOWN WITH THE TITANIC.]
[Illustration:
HARRIS & EWING
WASHINGTON, D.C.
MAJOR ARCHIBALD BUTT, THE FAMOUS MILITARY AIDE OF TWO
PRESIDENTS--ROOSEVELT AND TAFT. HE BATTLED FOR THE RESCUE OF WOMEN AND
CHILDREN UNTIL THE LAST LIFE BOAT HAD LEFT THE SHIP AND THEN WENT DOWN
WITH THE “TITANIC” LIKE A TRUE HERO.
]
[Illustration: ONE OF THE DE LUXE ROOMS ON THE “TITANIC,” SUCH
WERE OCCUPIED BY JOHN JACOB ASTOR AND HIS BRIDE AND MANY OTHER
MULTI-MILLIONAIRES WHO WENT DOWN WITH THE SHIP]
[Illustration:
PHOTO. BY UNDERWOOD & UNDERWOOD, N. Y.
VIEW OF THE PROMENADE DECK OF THE ILL-FATED WHITE STAR LINER “TITANIC.”
THIS DECK EXTENDS NEARLY THE WHOLE LENGTH OF THE SHIP, AND IS USED AS A
PROMENADE FOR PASSENGERS.]
[Illustration: PART OF THE MAGNIFICENT CONCERT ROOM OF THE STEAMSHIP
“TITANIC,” WHERE WOMEN PASSENGERS SPENT MUCH OF THEIR TIME IN READING
AND LISTENING TO THE MUSIC.]
[Illustration: LUXURIOUSLY FURNISHED SMOKING ROOM OF THE “TITANIC,”
WHERE MEN SPENT MANY SOCIAL HOURS BEFORE GOING TO THEIR WATERY GRAVES]
[Illustration:
PHOTO BY PAUL THOMPSON, N. Y.
CAPTAIN SMITH OF THE “TITANIC,” WHO SAVED MANY WOMEN AND CHILDREN, AND
THEN, LIKE A TRUE HERO, WENT DOWN WITH HIS SHIP. THIS PICTURE ALSO
SHOWS TWO OF HIS OFFICERS]
[Illustration:
PHOTO. BY UNDERWOOD & UNDERWOOD, N. Y.
INTERIOR OF CUNARD LINE PIER, ALL CLEARED OUT READY TO RECEIVE THE
SURVIVORS OF THE “TITANIC,” ON ARRIVAL OF THE “CARPATHIA,” WHERE THEY
WERE MET BY RELATIVES, PHYSICIANS, NURSES AND OTHERS.]
[Illustration:
PHOTO. BY UNDERWOOD & UNDERWOOD, N. Y.
A MOST REMARKABLE PHOTOGRAPH, TAKEN BY A PASSENGER ON THE “CARPATHIA,”
SHOWING MR. AND MRS. HARDER, A YOUNG HONEYMOON COUPLE. WHEN THE CRY
CAME TO GET IN THE LIFEBOATS, THEY, AS A LARK, THINKING THERE WAS NO
DANGER, JUMPED IN THE FIRST BOAT LOWERED.]
[Illustration: J. BRUCE ISMAY, WHITE STAR LINE MANAGER.
MR. ISMAY WAS ON THE “TITANIC” AND HAS BEEN SEVERELY CRITICISED FOR HIS
ACTIONS IN CONNECTION WITH THIS GREAT CALAMITY.]
“I feel better,” Mrs. Futrelle said hours afterward, “for I can cry
now.”
Among the men, conversation centred on the accident and the
responsibility for it. Many expressed the belief that the Titanic,
in common with other vessels, had had warning of the ice packs, but
that in the effort to establish a record on the maiden run sufficient
heed had not been paid to the warnings. The failure of the safety
compartments, said to have been closed from the bridge directly after
the accident, was the occasion of amazement, and one theory offered was
that the doors had, for some reason, not closed in the usual manner.
Others contended that these devices are, at best, but time-savers, and
said that without them the Titanic would have gone under before three
boats could have been lowered.
THE OFFICERS’ REQUIREMENTS DISCUSSED.
The requirement that the officers on the bridge should take
temperatures of the water every fifteen minutes to indicate the
approach of ice was also discussed.
As to the behavior of officers and crew, not a word of complaint was
heard from the men. They were praised as worthy Britons and true
seamen. In the same breath the survivors exalted the heroism of the
missing men of the first cabin, who had stood calmly waiting for their
turn--the turn which, because of scarcity of boats and shortness of
time, never came for most of them.
“God knows I’m not proud to be here!” said a rich New York man. “I got
on a boat when they were about to lower it and when, from delays below,
there was no woman to take the vacant place. I don’t think any man who
was saved is deserving of censure, but I realize that, in contrast with
those who went down, we may be viewed unfavorably.” He showed a picture
of his baby boy as he spoke.
As the day passed, the fore part of the ship assumed some degree of
order and comfort, but the crowded second cabin and decks gave forth
the incessant sound of lamentation. A bride of two months sat on the
floor and moaned her widowhood. An Italian mother shrieked the name of
her lost son.
A girl of seven wept over the loss of her Teddy Bear and two dolls,
while her mother, with streaming eyes, dared not tell the child that
her father was lost, too, and that the money for which their home in
England had been sold had gone down with him. Other children clung to
the necks of the fathers who, because carrying them, had been permitted
to take the boats.
At 4 P. M. Monday the service for the dead was read by Father Roger
Anderson, of the Episcopal Order of the Holy Cross, over the bodies of
three seamen and one man, said to have been a cabin passenger, who were
dead from exposure when received on this ship. Some of the Titanic’s
passengers turned away from the rail as the first of the weighted forms
fell into the water.
[Illustration: The Titans
_By RICHARD J. BEAMISH_
_“And most who drowned were men.” ’Tis good to read
These strong fair words. They tell of manhood tried.
Of those who saw the weak ones safe, then died.
Rake muck, sneer slurs. You can’t paint black the breed
That smiled at Death in that heroic deed.
Poor men forgot their lot; the rich, their pride.
Like gods, they struggled o’er the rising tide
For others’ lives; their own, they scorned to heed.
Then kindly Night shut out their tragedy.
God send the words to flame their message through
The grieving world: “For inasmuch as ye
Help thus My helpless ones, ye helpeth Me.”
They sleep where Love and Death both found them true,
Their names as deathless as their shrine, the sea._
]
CHAPTER II.
HEART-RENDING SCENES ON CARPATHIA.
The Next Day--Caring for the Sick--Meeting of the Survivors--Personal
Wireless Messages Given Precedence--Marconi’s Appeal
Fruitless--Quartermaster Tells Story.
The writer’s narrative continues:
In the hospital and the public rooms lay, in blankets, several others
who had been benumbed by the water. Mrs. Rosa Abbott, who was in the
water for hours, was restored during the day. G. Wikeman, the Titanic’s
barber, who declared he was blown off the ship by the second of the two
explosions after the crash, was treated for bruises. A passenger, who
was thoroughly ducked before being picked up, caused much amusement on
this ship, soon after the doctors were through with him, by demanding a
bath.
Storekeeper Prentice, the last man off the Titanic to reach this ship,
was also soon over the effects of his long swim in the icy waters, into
which he leaped from the poop deck.
The physicians of the Carpathia were praised, as was Chief Steward
Hughes, for work done in making the arrivals comfortable and averting
serious illness.
Monday night on the Carpathia was one of rest. The wailing and sobbing
of the day were hushed as the widows and orphans slept. Tuesday, save
for the crowded condition of the ship, matters took somewhat their
normal appearance.
Tuesday afternoon, in the saloon, a meeting of survivors was held and
plans for a testimonial to the officers and crew of the Carpathia and
the survivors of the Titanic’s crew were discussed. It was decided that
relief of the destitute should first be considered, and the chairman
of the meeting, Samuel Goldenberg, appointed a committee consisting of
I. G. Frauenthal, Mrs. J. J. Brown, William Bushnell and George Stone
to raise a fund. The first subscriptions were for $100 each, and the
amounts were paid largely in travelers’ checks or personal checks, cash
being somewhat scarce among the refugees, who had kept their currency
in the purser’s safe.
Resolutions were adopted praising the Titanic’s surviving officers
and crew and the officers, crew and passengers of the Carpathia,
and declaring that a memorial is needed for “those who in heroic
self-sacrifice made possible the rescue of so many others.” One speaker
suggested that a memorial fund be raised by popular subscription,
mentioning the “World” as a suitable medium. This and other suggestions
were left to the committee to develop.
Rain and fog marked the Carpathia’s homeward course, and those who were
not seasick when New York was reached were none the less sick of the
sea.
CAPTAIN ROSTROM’S RULE.
Captain Rostrom’s rule that personal messages should take precedence
of press messages was not relaxed, even when Tuesday a message from
Guglielm Marconi himself asked the reason why press dispatches were not
sent. The captain posted Marconi’s message on the bulletin board, and
beside it a bulletin stating that no press messages, except a bulletin
to the Associated Press, had been sent. The implication was that none
would be sent, and the most urgent and respectful appeals failed to
change his determination, which, he seemed convinced, was in the best
interest of the survivors and their friends.
My wife was my only active helper in a task which ten newspaper men
could not have performed completely. Mr. S. V. Silverthorne, of St.
Louis, aided greatly by lending me his first cabin passenger list, one
of the few in existence.
Robert Hichens, one of the surviving quartermasters of the Titanic, the
man who was on duty at the wheel when the ship struck the iceberg, told
me the tale of the wreck on the Carpathia Thursday.
Save for the surviving fourth officer, Boxhall, whose lips are sealed,
Hichens saw Sunday night’s tragedy at closer range than any man now
living.
In the hastily compiled list of surviving members of the crew,
the names of Hichens and other quartermasters appear among the
able-bodied seamen; but the star and anchor on the left sleeve of each
distinguishes them in rank from the A. B.’s.
Hichens has followed the sea fifteen years and has a wife and two
children in Southampton. His tale of the wreck, as he told it to me and
as he expects to tell it to a Marine Court of Inquiry, is here given:
“I went on watch at eight o’clock Sunday night and stood by the man at
the wheel until ten. At ten I took the wheel for two hours.
“On the bridge from ten o’clock on were First Officer Murdock, Fourth
Officer Boxhall and Sixth Officer Moody. In the crow’s nest (lookout
tower) were Fleet and another man whose name I don’t know.
SECOND OFFICER ON WATCH.
“Second Officer Lightoller, who was on watch while I stood by, carrying
messages and the like, from eight to ten, sent me soon after eight to
tell the carpenter to look out for the fresh water supply, as it might
be in danger of freezing. The temperature was then 31 degrees. He gave
the crow’s nest a strict order to look out for small icebergs.
“Second Officer Lightoller was relieved by First Officer Murdock at
ten, and I took the wheel then. At 11.40 three gongs sounded from the
crow’s nest, the signal for ‘something right ahead.’
“At the same time one of the men in the nest telephoned to the bridge
that there was a large iceberg right ahead. As Officer Murdoch’s hand
was on the lever to stop the engines the crash came. He stopped the
engines, then immediately by another lever closed the water-tight doors.
“The skipper (Captain Smith) came from the chart room on to the
bridge. His first words were ‘Close the emergency doors.’
“‘They’re already closed, sir,’ Mr. Murdock replied.
“‘Send to the carpenter and tell him to sound the ship,’ was the
skipper’s next order. The message was sent to the carpenter. The
carpenter never came up to report. He was probably the first man on
that ship to lose his life.
[Illustration: COLUMBIA AND BRITANNIA MOURN FOR THE “TITANIC’S” DEAD.]
“The skipper looked at the commutator, which shows in what direction
the ship is listing. He saw that she carried five degrees list to the
starboard.
“The ship was then rapidly settling forward. All the steam sirens were
blowing. By the skipper’s orders, given in the next few minutes, the
engines were put to work at pumping out the ship, distress signals
were sent by Marconi and rockets were sent up from the bridge by
Quartermaster Rowe. All hands were ordered on deck and life belts were
sewed to the crew and to every passenger.
“The stewards and other hands helped the sailors in getting the boats
out. The order ‘women and children first’ was given and enforced. There
was no panic.
“I was at the wheel until 12.25. It was my duty to stay there until
relieved. I was not relieved by anyone else, but was simply sent away
by Second Officer Lightoller, who told me to take charge of a certain
boat and load it with ladies.
“I did so, and there were thirty-two ladies, a sailor and myself in the
boat when it was lowered, some time after 1 o’clock--I can’t be sure of
the time.
ALL BOATS BUT ONE GET AWAY SAFELY.
“The Titanic had sixteen lifeboats and two collapsible boats. All of
them got away loaded, except that one of the collapsibles did not open
properly and was used as a raft. Forty sailors and stewards who were
floating in the water, got on this raft, and later had to abandon the
raft, and were picked up by the different boats. Some others were
floating about on chairs when picked up.
“Every boat, so far as I saw, was full when it was lowered, and every
boat that set out reached the Carpathia. The green light on one of the
boats helped to keep us together, but there were other lights. One was
an electric flashlight that a gentleman had carried in his pocket.
“Our boat was 400 yards away when the ship went down. The suction
nearby must have been terrific, but we were only rocked somewhat.
“I have told only what I know, and what I shall tell any marine court
that may examine me.”
G. Whiteman, of Palmyra, N. J., the Titanic’s barber, was lowering
boats on deck A, after the collision, and declares the officers on
the bridge, one of them Second Officer Murdock, promptly worked the
electrical apparatus for closing the water-tight compartments. He
believes the machinery was in some way so damaged by the crash that the
front compartments failed to close tightly, although the rear ones were
secure.
Whiteman’s manner of escape was unique. He was blown off the deck by
the second of the two explosions of the boilers, and was in the water
more than two hours before he was picked up by a raft.
“The explosions,” Whiteman said, “were caused by the rushing in of the
icy water on the boilers. A bundle of deck chairs, roped together, was
blown off the deck with me, and struck my back, injuring my spine, but
it served as a temporary raft.
“The crew and passengers had faith in the bulkhead system to save the
ship, and we were lowering a Benthon collapsible boat, all confident
the ship would get through, when she took a terrific dip forward and
the water rushed up and swept over the deck and into the engine rooms.
BLOWN FIFTEEN FEET.
“The bow went clean down, and I caught the pile of chairs as I was
washed up against the rail. Then came the explosions and blew me
fifteen feet.
“After the water had filled the forward compartments the ones at the
stern could not save her. They did delay the ship’s going down. If it
wasn’t for the compartments hardly any one could have got away.
“The water was too cold for me to swim and I was hardly more than one
hundred feet away when the ship went down. The suction was not what one
would expect and only rocked the water around me. I was picked up after
two hours. I have done with the sea.”
Whiteman was one of those who heard the ship’s string band playing
“Nearer, My God, to Thee” a few moments before she went down.
R. Norris Williams, a Philadelphia youth on his way home from England
to take the Harvard entrance examinations, was one of the few saloon
passengers at the rail excluded by the women-first order from the boats
who was saved. His father, Duane Williams, was lost.
“There is much, and yet there is little, to tell of my experience,”
said young Williams. “My father and I had about given up our hope for
life and were standing together, resolved to jump together and keep
together if we could, so long as either of us lived. I had on my fur
coat.
“The forward end, where we stood, was sinking rapidly, and before
we could jump together the water washed my father over. Then, with
the explosions, the ship seemed to break in two, and the forward end
bounded up again for an instant. I leaped, but with dozens in the water
between us my father was lost to me.
SWAM AND DRIFTED NEARLY TWO HOURS.
“I swam and drifted nearly two hours before I was pulled aboard the
raft or collapsible boat which served for a time as a raft. Later, with
the abandonment of the raft, I was taken aboard a boat.”
Frederic K. Seward, who sat next to W. T. Stead at the Titanic’s saloon
table, told of the veteran English journalist’s plans for his American
visit. His immediate purpose was to aid in the New York campaign of the
Men and Religion Forward Movement.
“Mr. Stead talked much of spiritualism, thought transference and the
occult,” said Seward. “He told a story of a mummy case in the British
Museum which, he said, had had amazing adventures, but which punished
with great calamities any person who wrote its story. He told of one
person after another who, he said, had come to grief after writing the
story, and added that, although he knew it, he would never write it. He
did not say whether ill-luck attached to the mere telling of it.”
Stead also told, Seward said, of a strange adventure of a young woman
with an admirer in an English railroad coach, which was known to him
as it happened, and which he afterward repeated to the young woman,
amazing her by repeating everything correctly save for one small detail.
Had Harold Cotton, Marconi operator on the Carpathia, gone to bed
Sunday night at his usual time, the Carpathia would have known nothing
of the Titanic’s plight, and the lifeboats, without food or water,
might have been the scenes of even greater tragedy than the great death
ship itself.
The Carpathia, an easy going Mediterranean ship, has only one Marconi
man, and when Cotton had not the receiver on his head the ship was out
of communication with the world.
Cotton, an Englishman of twenty-one years, told me the morning after
the wreck how he came to receive the Titanic’s C Q D.
JUST ABOUT TO TURN IN WHEN CALLED BY C. Q. D.
“I was relaying a message to the Titanic Sunday night, shortly after 11
o’clock by my time,” he said, “and told Phillips, the Titanic’s Marconi
man, that I had been doing quite a bit of work for him, and that if he
had nothing else for me I would quit and turn in for the night. Just
as I was about to take the receiver off my head came ‘C Q D.’ This was
followed with ‘We’ve hit something. Come at once.’
“I called a sailor and sent word to an officer, and a few minutes later
the Captain turned the Carpathia, at eighteen knots, in the direction
of the Titanic, which was sixty miles or more from us.
“Before I could tell the Titanic we were coming, came their ‘S O S,’
and the operator added ‘I’m afraid we’re gone.’ I told him we were
coming, and he went on sending out signals in every direction.”
An assistant Marconi man from the Titanic, not on duty at the time of
the wreck, was among the survivors and assisted Cotton in his work
after Wednesday, having been laid up the two previous days by the shock
of the chill he suffered in the water and by injuries to his legs.
He denied a report, generally circulated on this ship, that Jack
Binns, of Republic fame, was on the Titanic. He said Phillips, the
Titanic’s chief operator, was lost.
Mrs. Edward S. Robert, whose husband, a leading St. Louis attorney,
died last December during her absence in England, and her daughter,
Miss Georgette Madill, have been in close seclusion on the Carpathia
since their rescue from the Titanic. They are accompanied by Mrs.
Robert’s maid.
S. V. Silverthorne, buyer for Nugent’s, was one of three or four saloon
passengers on the Titanic who saw the deadly iceberg just after the
collision.
“I was in the smoking room reading near a bridge whist game at one
of the tables,” he said, “when the crash came. I said, ‘We’ve hit
something,’ and went out on the starboard side to look. None of us was
alarmed. It occurred to me that we might have bumped a whale, or at
most, ran down some small craft.
ORDERED ON DECK AND TOLD TO GET INTO THE BOATS.
“I went back in the smoking room with the others. One of the bridge
players had not left the smoking room at all and was waiting
impatiently for the others to come back and resume the game. They
returned and took up their hands and we were all about to settle down,
when an officer ordered us on deck and told us to get into the boats,
there not being enough women on deck to fill the first ones. We didn’t
like the idea of leaving the ship then, but did as we were told. Had we
been in our rooms we would have had to stand aside, as other men did
then.”
Two orphan French boys, about two and four years old respectively,
whose sur-name is believed to be Hoffman and who called each other
Louis and Lolo, will be cared for by Miss Margaret Hays, of 304 W. 83d
st., New York, while efforts will be made to find their relatives, to
whom their father was thought to have been taking them. The elder boy
has been ill with a fever for three days, the excitement, exposure and
probably grief over the loss of his father having told on the little
fellow. The other, too young to realize what has befallen him, played
around the saloon or sat contentedly in the lap of one of his new made
but devoted friends among the passengers.
The father, who is in the list of second cabin passengers as “Mr.
Hoffman,” is said to have told fellow-passengers on the Titanic the
children’s mother died recently.
Mrs. Sylvia Caldwell, of Bangkok, Siam, is happy in having her husband
and little son. Since she was the last woman to embark, her husband was
able to come with her.
Mrs. Esther Hart, whose husband was lost, was coming, with their
daughter Eva, to visit Mr. Hart’s sister in New York, then to go on
to Winnipeg to make their home. They had sold the property at Ilford,
Essex, England. All their money was lost when Mr. Hart went down with
the Titanic.
Mrs. Lucy Ridsdale, of London, had said good-by to England and had
started for Marietta, O., to make her home with her sisters. She was
saved with the few clothes she wore. She had written letters telling of
a “safe arrival and pleasant voyage” and had them ready to mail. They
went down with the ship.
CHAPTER III.
BAND PLAYED TO THE LAST.
Suffering in the Lifeboats--Statement by Ismay--Would not Desert
Husband--Thirty on Raft in Icy Water--Colonel Astor a Hero--Joked Over
Collision--Officer Saves Many Lives.
But another account, compiled from various sources among the survivors
gives somewhat varying angles and supplies quite a few missing details.
At the risk of a few slight repetitions it is given:
Of the great facts that stand out from the chaotic accounts of the
tragedy, these are the most salient:
The death list was increased rather than decreased. Six persons died
after being rescued.
The list of prominent persons lost stood as at first reported.
Practically every woman and child, with the exception of those women
who refused to leave their husbands, were saved. Among these last was
Mrs. Isidor Straus.
The survivors in the lifeboats saw the lights on the stricken vessel
glimmer to the last, heard her band playing and saw the doomed hundreds
on her deck and heard their groans and cries when the vessel sank.
Accounts vary as to the extent of the disorder on board.
Not only was the Titanic tearing through the April night to her doom
with every ounce of steam crowded on, but she was under orders from the
general officers of the line to make all the speed of which she was
capable.
This was the statement made by J. H. Moody, a quartermaster of the
vessel and helmsman on the night of the disaster. He said the ship was
making 21 knots an hour, and the officers were striving to live up to
the orders to smash the records.
“It was close to midnight,” said Moody, “and I was on the bridge with
the second officer, who was in command. Suddenly he shouted ‘Port your
helm!’ I did so, but it was too late. We struck the submerged portion
of the berg.”
“Of the many accounts given by the passengers most of them agreed that
the shock when the Titanic struck the iceberg, although ripping her
great sides like a giant can opener, did not greatly jar the entire
vessel, for the blow was a glancing one along her side. The accounts
also agree substantially that when the passengers were taken off on the
lifeboats there was no serious panic and that many wished ‘to remain on
board the Titanic, believing her to be unsinkable.’”
EXPERIENCES OF PASSENGERS IN LIFE-BOATS.
The most distressing stories are those giving the experiences of the
passengers in lifeboats. These tell not only of their own suffering,
but give the harrowing details of how they saw the great hulk of the
Titanic stand on end, stern uppermost for many minutes before plunging
to the bottom. As this spectacle was witnessed by the groups of
survivors in the boats, they plainly saw many of those whom they had
just left behind leaping from the decks into the water.
J. Bruce Ismay, president of the International Mercantile Marine,
owners of the White Star Line, who was among the seventy odd men
saved; P. A. S. Franklin, vice president of the White Star Line, and
United States Senator William Alden Smith, chairman of the Senate
Investigating Committee, held a conference aboard the Carpathia soon
after the passengers had come ashore.
After nearly an hour, Senator Smith came out of the cabin and said he
had no authority to subpena witnesses at this time, but would begin
an investigation into the cause of the loss of the Titanic at the
Waldorf-Astoria Hotel the next day. He announced that Mr. Ismay had
consented to appear at the hearing, and that Mr. Franklin and the four
surviving officers of the Titanic would appear for examination by the
Senate committee. He said the course the investigation would follow
would be determined after the preliminary hearing.
Senator Smith was questioned as to the speed the Titanic was proceeding
at when she crashed into the iceberg. He said he had asked Mr. Ismay,
but declined to say what Mr. Ismay’s reply was.
Bruce Ismay, chairman of the International Mercantile Marine, gave out
the following prepared statement on the pier:
[Illustration: CHART OF THE NORTH ATLANTIC, SHOWING WHERE THE GREAT
LINER “TITANIC” WENT DOWN.]
“In the presence and under the shadows of a catastrophe so overwhelming
my feelings are too deep for expression in words, and I can only say
that the White Star Line officers and employes will do everything
humanly possible to alleviate the suffering and sorrow of the relatives
and friends of those who perished. The Titanic was the last word in
shipbuilding. Every regulation prescribed by the British Board of Trade
had been strictly complied with. The master, officers and crew were the
most experienced and skillful in the British service.
“I am informed that a committee of the United States Senate has been
appointed to investigate the circumstances of the accident. I heartily
welcome the most complete and exhaustive inquiry, and any aid that I
can render is at the service of the public and of the Governments of
both the United States and Great Britain. Under these circumstances I
must defer making any further statement at this hour.”
Mr. Ismay said informally before giving out his statement that he left
the ship in one of the last boats, one of the collapsible boats on the
port side. This statement, however, as will later appear, is scathingly
denounced by several survivors as untrue.
“I do not know the speed at which the Titanic was going,” said Mr.
Ismay in reply to a question. “She hit the iceberg a glancing blow.”
MR. ISMAY WILL MAKE A COMPLETE STATEMENT.
Mr. Ismay, after his interview with Senator Smith, said that he was
desirous of sailing on the Carpathia the next afternoon. The Carpathia
was scheduled to sail at 4 o’clock. Mr. Ismay assured the Senators,
however, that he would make a complete statement of the catastrophe,
and that if he could not finish in time for the sailing he would change
his plans.
Mr. Ismay then went to his apartments at the Ritz-Carlton.
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.
“Luckily I was unhurt and, casting about, managed to seize a wooden
grating floating nearby. When I had recovered my breath I discovered
a larger canvas and cork lifecraft which had floated up. A man, whose
name I did not learn, was struggling toward it from some wreckage to
which he had clung. I cast off and helped him to get on to the raft and
we then began the work of rescuing those who had jumped into the sea
and were floundering in the water.
“When dawn broke there were thirty of us on the raft, standing knee
deep in the icy water and afraid to move lest the cranky craft be
overturned. Several unfortunately, benumbed and half dead, besought us
to save them and one or two made an effort to reach us.
“The hours that elapsed before we were picked up by the Carpathia were
the longest and most terrible that I ever spent. Practically without
any sensation of feeling, because of the icy water, we were almost
dropping from fatigue. We were afraid to turn around to look to see
whether we were seen by passing craft, and when some one who was facing
astern passed the word that something that looked like a steamer was
coming up one of the men became hysterical under the strain. The rest
of us, too, were nearing the breaking point.”
DENIES THAT ANY MEN WERE FIRED UPON.
Colonel Gracie denied with emphasis that any men were fired upon, and
declared that only once was a revolver discharged.
“This was for the purpose of intimidating some steerage passengers,”
he said, “who had tumbled into a boat before it was prepared for
launching. This shot was fired in the air, and when the foreigners were
told that the next would be directed at them they promptly returned to
the deck. There was no confusion and no panic.”
“Before I retired,” said Colonel Gracie, “I had a long chat with
Charles H. Hays, president of the Grand Trunk Railroad. One of the last
things Mr. Hays said was this: ‘The White Star, the Cunard and the
Hamburg-American lines are devoting their attention and ingenuity in
vieing with the other to attain the supremacy in luxurious ships and in
making speed records. The time will soon come when this will be checked
by some appalling disaster.’ Poor fellow, a few hours later he was
dead.”
“The conduct of Colonel Jacob Astor was deserving of the highest
praise,” Colonel Gracie declared. “The millionaire New Yorker,” he
said, “devoted all his energies to saving his young bride, nee Miss
Force, of New York, who was in delicate health.
“Colonel Astor helped us in our efforts to get her in the boat,” said
Colonel Gracie. “I lifted her into the boat, and as she took her place
Colonel Astor requested permission of the officer to go with her for
her own protection.
“‘No, sir,’ replied the officer, ‘not a man shall go on a boat until
the women are all off.’ Colonel Astor then inquired the number of the
boat, which was being lowered away, and turned to the work of clearing
the other boats and in reassuring the frightened and nervous women.
“By this time the ship began to list frightfully to port. This became
so dangerous that the second officer ordered every one to rush to
starboard. This we did, and we found the crew trying to get a boat off
in that quarter. Here I saw that last of John B. Thayer and George B.
Widener, of Philadelphia.”
SPEED KEPT UP DESPITE WARNINGS.
Colonel Gracie said that, despite the warnings of icebergs, no slowing
down of speed was ordered by the commander of the Titanic. There were
other warnings, too, he said. “In the 24 hours’ run ending the 14th,”
he said, “the ship’s run was 546 miles, and we were told that the next
24 hours would see even a better record posted.
“No diminution of speed was indicated in the run and the engines kept
up their steady running. When Sunday evening came we all noticed the
increased cold, which gave plain warning that the ship was in close
proximity to icebergs or icefields. The officers, I am credibly
informed, had been advised by wireless from other ships of the presence
of icebergs and dangerous floes in that vicinity. The sea was as smooth
as glass, and the weather clear so that it seems that there was no
occasion for fear.”
“When the vessel struck,” he continued, “the passengers were so little
alarmed that they joked over the matter. The few that appeared on deck
early had taken their time to dress properly and there was not the
slightest indication of panic. Some of the fragments of ice had fallen
on the deck and these were picked up and passed around by some of the
facetious ones, who offered them as mementos of the occasion.
“On the port side a glance over the side failed to show any evidence
of damage and the vessel seemed to be on an even keel. James Clinch
Smith and I, however, soon found the vessel was listing heavily. A
few minutes later the officers ordered men and women to don life
preservers.”
E. Z. Taylor, of Philadelphia, one of the survivors, jumped into the
sea just three minutes before the boat sank. He told a graphic story as
he came from the Carpathia.
“I was eating when the boat struck the iceberg,” he said. “There was
an awful shock that made the boat tremble from stem to stern. I did
not realize for some time what had happened. No one seemed to know the
extent of the accident. We were told that an iceberg had been struck by
the ship. I felt the boat rise, and it seemed to me that she was riding
over the ice.
ROCKING OVER A VERITABLE SEA OF ICE.
“I ran out on the deck and then I could see ice. It was a veritable sea
of ice and the boat was rocking over it. I should say that parts of the
iceberg were eighty feet high, but it had been broken into sections,
probably by our ship.
“I jumped into the ocean and was picked up by one of the boats. I never
expected to see land again. I waited on board the boat until the lights
went out. It seemed to me that the discipline on board was wonderful.”
A young English woman who requested that her name be omitted told a
thrilling story of her experience in one of the collapsible boats which
had been manned by eight of the crew from the Titanic. The boat was in
command of the fifth officer, H. Lowe, whose actions she described as
saving the lives of many people. Before the lifeboat was launched he
passed along the port deck of the steamer, commanding the people not
to jump in the boats, and otherwise restraining them from swamping
the craft. When the collapsible was launched Officer Lowe succeeded in
putting up a mast and a small sail. He collected other boats together;
in some cases the boats were short of adequate crews, and he directed
an exchange by which each was adequately manned. He threw lines
connecting the boats together, two by two, and all thus moved together.
Later on he went back to the wreck with the crew of one of the boats
and succeeded in picking up some of those who had jumped overboard and
were swimming about. On his way back to the Carpathia he passed one of
the collapsible boats, which was on the point of sinking with thirty
passengers aboard, most of them in scant night-clothing. They were
rescued just in the nick of time.”
Among the first passengers off the Carpathia was Mrs. Paul Schabert,
of Derby, Conn. She said that she had a stateroom on the port side and
had sailed with her brother Phillip. Mrs. Schabert declared that her
brother was saved because she refused to leave him.
IN THE GENERAL PANIC CAME THE CRY, “LADIES FIRST.”
“It was a terrible experience,” Mrs. Schabert added. “I was awakened by
the shock of the collision and went out on deck. There was very little
excitement and persons were coming from their rooms asking what had
happened. Suddenly from the bridge came the cry ‘ladies first.’ This
was the first inkling we had that the ship was in danger. I went back
to my stateroom and dressed and then as I returned to the deck I heard
the horrifying order that women must leave their husbands and brothers.
I refused to leave my brother, and finally he was shoved into the boat
with me.
“Mrs. Isidor Straus, who had a stateroom near me, and with whom I have
frequently talked, declared that under no circumstances would she leave
Mr. Straus. As we pushed away from the Titanic the ship started to go
down and as she disappeared beneath the water Mr. and Mrs. Straus were
standing arm in arm.”
Mrs. D. W. Marvin, who was on a honeymoon trip with her husband, was
almost prostrated when she reached the deck and learned that her
husband had not been picked up by some other boat.
“My God, don’t ask me too much,” she said. “Tell me, have you any news
from Dan? He grabbed me in his arms and knocked down men to get me into
the boat. As I was put in the boat he cried. ‘It’s all right, little
girl; you go and I will stay awhile, I’ll put on a life preserver and
jump off and follow your boat.’ As our boat shoved off he threw a kiss
at me and that is the last I saw of him.”
Edward Beane, of Glasgow, Scotland, who, with his wife, occupied a
stateroom in the second cabin, declared that fifteen minutes after the
Titanic hit the iceberg there was an explosion in the engine room,
which was followed in a few minutes by a second explosion.
FALSE REPORT OF PASSENGERS BEING SHOT.
“The stern of the boat floated for nearly an hour after the bow was
submerged,” said Mr. Beane, “and then went down. I heard a report that
two steerage passengers were shot by the officers when they started to
crowd in the boats, but later this was denied.”
Max Frolicher-Stehli, who, with his wife and his daughter Margaret, was
on the way to this city to visit a brother, said:
“My wife and two women entered one of the first boats lowered. Twelve
men, including myself, were standing near and as there were no other
women passengers waiting we were ordered to get in. The sea was calm.
We were rowed by four seamen, one of whom was in charge.
“The order maintained on the Titanic was what I would call remarkable.
There was very little pushing and in most cases it was the women who
caused the commotion by insisting that their husbands go with them into
the lifeboats. As a rule the men were very orderly. It was not until we
had left the ship that many of the women showed fright. From that time
on, however, they filled the air with shrieks.”
The following statement issued by a committee of the surviving
passengers was given the press on the arrival of the Carpathia.
“We, the undersigned surviving passengers from the S. S. Titanic, in
order to forestall any sensational or exaggerated statements, deem it
our duty to give the press a statement of facts which have come to our
knowledge and which we believe to be true.
WARNING TOO LATE TO AVOID COLLISION.
“On Sunday, April 14, 1912, at about 11.40 P. M., on a cold, starlight
night, in a smooth sea and with no moon, the ship struck an iceberg
which had been reported to the bridge by the lookouts, but not early
enough to avoid collision. Steps were taken to ascertain the damage
and save passengers and ship. Orders were given to put on life belts
and the boats were lowered. The ship sank at about 2.20 A. M. Monday
and the usual distress signals were sent out by wireless and rockets
fired at intervals from the ship. Fortunately the wireless message was
received by the Cunard’s S. S. Carpathia, at about 12 o’clock, and she
arrived on the scene of the disaster at about 4 A. M. Monday.
“The officers and crew of the S. S. Carpathia had been preparing
all night for the rescue and comfort of the survivors, and the last
mentioned were received on board with the most touching care and
kindness, every attention being given to all, irrespective of class.
The passengers, officers and crew gave up gladly their staterooms,
clothing and comforts for our benefit, all honor to them.
“On the boat at the time of the collision was: First class, 330; second
class, 320; third class, 750; total, 1400; officers and crew, 940;
total, 2340. Of the foregoing about the following were rescued by S. S.
Carpathia:
“First class, 210; second class, 125; third class, 200; officers, 4;
seamen, 39; stewards, 96; firemen, 71; total, 210 of the crew. The net
total of 745 saved was about 80 per cent. of the maximum capacity of
the lifeboats.
“We feel it our duty to call the attention of the public to what we
consider the inadequate supply of life-saving appliances provided for
on modern passenger steamships, and recommend that immediate steps
be taken to compel passenger steamers to carry sufficient boats to
accommodate the maximum number of people carried on board.
“The following facts were observed and should be considered in this
connection: The insufficiency of lifeboats, rafts, etc.; lack of
trained seamen to man same (stokers, stewards, etc., are not efficient
boat handlers); not enough officers to carry out emergency orders on
the bridge and superintend the launching and control of lifeboats;
absence of searchlights.
“The board of trade rules allow for entirely too many people in each
boat to permit the same to be properly handled. On the Titanic the boat
deck was about 75 feet above water, and consequently the passengers
were required to embark before lowering boats, thus endangering the
operation and preventing the taking on of the maximum number the boats
would hold. Boats at all times to be properly equipped with provisions,
water, lamps, compasses, lights, etc. Life-saving boat drills should be
more frequent and thoroughly carried out; and officers should be armed
at boat drills. Greater reduction in speed in fog and ice, as damage if
collision actually occurs is liable to be less.
“In conclusion, we suggest that an international conference be called
to recommend the passage of identical laws providing for the safety
of all at sea, and we urge the United States Government to take the
initiative as soon as possible.”
The statement was signed by Samuel Goldenberg, chairman, and a
committee of passengers.
CHAPTER IV.
NEGLECT CAUSED DISASTER.
Tardy Answer to Telephone Call--Lookout’s Signals Not Answered--Ship
Could Have Been Saved--Three Fatal Minutes--Ismay Accused--Women Help
With Oars--Ship Broken in Two--Band Played Till Last.
The trifle of a telephone call hardly answered sent the Titanic to the
bottom of the Atlantic, occasioned the greatest marine disaster in
history and shocked all civilized nations.
This, at least, is the tale told by sailors of the ill-starred Titanic,
brawny seamen who only lived to tell it because it happened in the line
of their duty to help man the boats into which some of the Titanic’s
passengers were loaded.
But the telephone call that went unanswered for probably two or
three minutes, none can tell the exact time, was sent by the lookout
stationed forward to the first officer of the watch on the bridge of
the great liner on the maiden voyage.
The lookout saw a towering “blue berg” looming up in the sea path of
the Titanic, the latest and proudest product of marine architecture,
and called the bridge on the ship’s telephone.
When after the passing of those two or three fateful minutes an officer
on the bridge of the Titanic lifted the telephone receiver from its
hook to answer the lookout it was too late. The speeding liner,
cleaving a calm sea under a star-studded sky, had reached the floating
mountain of ice, which the theoretically “unsinkable” ship struck a
crashing, if glancing, blow with her starboard bow.
Had the officer on the bridge, who was William T. Murdock, according to
the account of the tragedy given by two of the Titanic’s seamen, known
how imperative was that call from the lookout man, whose name was given
as Fleet, the man at the wheel of the world’s newest and greatest
transatlantic liner might have swerved the great ship sufficiently to
avoid the berg altogether or at the worst would have probably struck
the mass of ice with her stern and at much reduced speed.
For obvious reasons the identity of the sailormen who described the
foundering of the Titanic cannot be divulged. As for the officer, who
was alleged to have been a laggard in answering the lookout’s telephone
call, harsh criticism may be omitted.
Murdock, if the tale of the Titanic sailor be true, expiated his
negligence, if negligence it was, by shooting himself within sight of
all alleged victims huddled in lifeboats or struggling in the icy seas.
THE “UNWRITTEN LAW” OF THE SEA.
The revolver which the sailors say snuffed out Murdock’s life was
not the only weapon that rang out above the shrieks of the drowning.
Officers of the Titanic, upon whom devolved the duty of seeing that the
“unwritten law” of the sea--“women and children first”--was enforced,
were, according to the recital of the members of the great liner’s
crew, forced to shoot frenzied male passengers, who, impelled by the
fear of death, attempted to get into the lifeboats swinging from their
davits.
The sailors’ account of the terrific impact of the Titanic against the
berg that crossed the path was as follows:
“It was 11.40 P. M. Sunday, April 14. Struck an iceberg. The berg was
very dark and about 250 feet in height.
“The Titanic struck the berg a glancing blow on the starboard bow. The
ship, which was traveling between twenty and twenty-three knots an
hour, crashed into the berg at a point about forty feet back of the
stem.
“The Titanic’s bottom was torn away to about fore bridge. The tear was
fully fifty feet in length and was below the water line.”
Regarding the state of the sea and the character of the night the
sailors declared:
“It was a perfect night, clear and starlight. The sea was smooth. The
temperature had dropped to freezing Sunday morning. We knew or believed
that the cold was due to the nearness of bergs, but we had not even run
against cake ice up to the time the ice mountain loomed up. The Titanic
raced through a calm sea in which there was no ice into the berg which
sank her.”
Continuing, their joint account the two men of the Titanic’s crew
further said:
“The first officer of the watch was Murdock. He was on the bridge.
Captain Smith may have been near at hand, but he was not visible to us
who were about to wash down the decks. Hitchens, quartermaster, was at
the wheel. Fleet was the outlook.”
It is characteristic of sailors that they make no effort to learn the
baptismal names of a ship’s officers.
“Fleet reported the berg, but the telephone was not answered on the
bridge at once. A few minutes afterwards the telephone call was
answered, but it was too late.
THE SHIP HAD STRUCK.
“The ship had struck. Murdock, after the ship struck the berg, gave
orders to put helm to starboard, afterwards he ordered the helm hard to
port and the ship struck the berg again.
“Afterwards Murdock gave an order for the carpenter to sound the wells
to learn how much water the ship was taking in. The carpenter came up
and told Murdock the Titanic had seven feet of water in her in less
than seven minutes.”
Keeping on with their narrative the sailors, whose nerves had not been
broken by their experiences declared:
“Then Captain Smith, who had put in an appearance, gave orders to get
the boats ready.
“There was less than ten minutes between the time the Titanic first
struck the berg and the second crash, both of which brought big pieces
of ice showering down on the ship.
“Orders came to the crew to stand by the boats. The boats were got out.
There were twenty-two boats all told.”
At this juncture the sailors described without apparent prejudice or
bitterness how J. Bruce Ismay, chairman of the Board of Directors of
the White Star Line, was the first to leave the Titanic.
“Ismay,” the sailors asserted, “with his two daughters and a
millionaire, Sir Cosmo Duff-Gordon, and the latter’s family, got into
the first accident or emergency boats, which are about twenty-eight
feet long, and were always ready for lowering under the bridge. The
boat in which Ismay and Sir Cosmo left was manned by seven seamen.
There were seventeen persons in the boat.
“This boat pulled away from the ship a half hour before any of the
lifeboats were put into the water.
“There were thirteen first-class passengers and five sailors in the
emergency boat. Both boats were away from the ship within ten or
fifteen minutes of the ship’s crashing into the berg.”
FIRST BOATS TO GET AWAY.
Asked to explain how it was possible for two boats to be put over the
ship’s side into the water without being subjected to a rush on the
part of the great ship’s passengers, the Titanic seamen said: “Ismay
and those who left in the two emergency boats occupied cabins de luxe.
The two boats were swinging from davits ready for lowering. We have no
idea who notified Mr. Ismay and his friends to make ready to leave the
ship, but we do know that the boats in which they were got away first.”
The sailors’ seemingly unvarnished tale then went on as follows:
“It was perhaps a half hour before the first of the lifeboats was
ready for lowering. Not a man was allowed in one of the lifeboats
so far as we could see, only women and children. The boats were all
thirty-six feet long and carried about sixty passengers. There were
about thirty-five or forty passengers to a boat when they were lowered,
but two sailors went in each boat. Besides the sixteen lifeboats and
the two emergency boats, four collapsible boats, each with a carrying
capacity of forty passengers, were put over the sides of the Titanic,
every boat on the ship was put into the water.
“One of the collapsible boats filled with water. The women and children
in the boat were mostly third-class passengers. The boat turned keel
and nearly two score persons clung to it. Many of these were rescued by
the lifeboats.”
The spokesman for the sailors here asserted: “We want to make it plain
that the officers and crew of the Titanic did their duty. Not a male
passenger got into the lifeboats. During the early excitement men tried
to force their way into the boats, but the officers shot them down with
revolvers. I saw probably a half dozen men shot down as the lifeboat to
which I was assigned was being filled. The men shot were left to die
and sink on the upper deck of the Titanic.”
The Titanic’s sailors described how frail women, steeled by a desperate
emergency, seized oars and labored with the seamen to get the lifeboats
at a safe distance from the great liner, sinking deep and deeper under
the weight of water.
WOMEN HELP WITH THE OARS.
“There were ten oars to each lifeboat,” the sailors said. “The women
seized the sweeps and helped us to get the boats clear of the ship. We
got away about 100 yards from the ship and waited to see what would
happen. The liner was sinking fast, but the lights continued to shine
through the black night.
“The end came at 2.30 on Monday morning. The lights on the ship did
not go out until ten minutes before the liner sank. The inrushing seas
reaching the after fires produced an explosion, which sundered the big
liner. The forward half of the Titanic dived gently down. The after
part of the ship stood on end and then disappeared.
“The force of the explosion blew, it seemed to us watching from the
lifeboats, scores of passengers and sailors into the air.”
That there were stout hearts on the Titanic, even in the last moments
of an unprecedented catastrophe, that refused to quail was proven by
the rough seamen’s further testimony.
“The band on the promenade deck,” they declared, “played ‘Abide With
Me’ and ‘Eternal Father, Strong to Save,’ and other hymns as the ship
sank.”
The Titanic sank at 2.30, almost at the spot where she collided with
the mountain of ice.
It was an hour later when the Carpathia was sighted by the thinly-clad
occupants of the lifeboats and it was 4.30 before the first of the
Titanic’s passengers set foot on the deck of the Cunarder. It was 8
o’clock on Monday morning, April 15, before the last of the half-clad
suffering passengers of the Titanic were taken aboard the Carpathia, a
not difficult feat, as the sea continued smooth.
The Carpathia’s run from the Newfoundland banks to New York was
uneventful except for the burial at sea of five persons. Four of the
five, according to the sailors, were consigned to the deep at about 4
P. M. on Monday, April 15. One of the four was a sailor, one a fireman
and two male passengers of the third class.
TELEPHONE CALL DOUBTED.
The alleged negligence of Murdock, the first officer of the watch, who
is blamed, as stated above, by some of the sailors for the wreck in
not responding immediately to a telephone call from the lookout giving
warning of the iceberg ahead, is doubted by a naval man who has had a
long experience on transatlantic liners.
“I cannot help doubting, in fact, absolutely disbelieving, that an
officer of the watch could be negligent in either responding to a call
from the crow’s-nest or even failing to discover anything in the course
of his vessel as soon as the lookout. Especially considering the fact
that the vessel had been warned of ice several times.
“The position of the senior officer of the watch is on the windward
side of the bridge. He does not depend on the lookout, that man is
only a check upon him. Usually any object in the course of the vessel
is discovered by both at the same time. The lookout’s signal was not a
telephone call when I was on the seas, but a horn blast. Three blasts,
object dead ahead; one blast, object on port bow; two blasts, object on
starboard bow.
“That Murdock did not see the berg as soon as his lookout, seems
improbable; that he did not see it immediately after his lookout,
seems impossible; that he did not answer any signal from the lookout
immediately is impossible, unless he was dead. Murdock knew his
responsibility, and he wasn’t shirking. He wouldn’t have been on the
watch, or on the Titanic, if he ever shirked.
“Could a vessel the size of the Titanic change its course sufficiently
to avoid the berg within three minutes supposed to have elapsed during
which Murdock didn’t answer his lookout’s call? It could. I never
sailed a vessel the size of the Titanic, but I unhesitatingly say that
the Titanic’s course could be changed in considerably less than a mile.
Why, by putting the wheel hard-a-port and stopping the engines on that
side the vessel could be turned so quickly that it would list fifteen
degrees in swinging around. I have steered a transatlantic liner in and
out among fishing smacks and they are easier to hit than an iceberg.”
QUESTIONED ABOUT CONDITIONS ON MOONLESS NIGHT.
Two other seafaring men of long experience, who have many nights sat in
the crow’s-nest of a liner and watched the course, were asked how far
an iceberg the size of the one that the Titanic struck could be seen on
a clear night without a moon, a condition on which all of the survivors
seem to agree was present the night the Titanic was sunk.
One of these men said at least one mile, the other at least two miles.
So the fact remains that Murdock was supposed to be on the bridge
keeping a strict lookout and not depending on the crow’s-nest; that
he could have seen the iceberg when it was at least a mile from the
vessel, and that the Titanic could have been easily turned sufficiently
in her course to avoid the berg within a mile.
The surviving passengers are unanimous that the “unbelievable”
happened. The voyage had been pleasant and uneventful, except for the
fact that it was being made on the largest and most magnificent vessel
that ever sailed and for the keen interest which the passengers took in
the daily bulletins of the speed.
The Titanic had been making good time and all accounts agree that
on the night of the disaster she was apparently going at her usual
rate--of from 21 to 25 knots an hour.
J. H. Moody, the quartermaster, who was at the helm, said that the ship
was making twenty-one and that the officers were under orders at the
time to keep up speed in the hope of making a record passage.
These orders were being carried out in face of knowledge that the
steamer was in the vicinity of great icebergs sweeping down from the
north. That very afternoon, according to the record of the hyrographic
officer, the Titanic had relayed to shore a wireless warning from the
steamer Amerika that an unusual field of pack ice and bergs menaced
navigation off the Banks.
OFFICERS CONFIDENT EVEN IN THE FACE OF DANGER.
But it was a “clear and starlight night,” as all the survivors
described the weather, and the great ship sped through the quiet seas
with officers confident that even though an iceberg should be seen the
vessel could be controlled in ample time, and the passengers rested in
full confidence that their temporary quarters in the largest and most
magnificent vessel ever constructed were as safe as their own homes.
This confidence is emphasized in the tales of nearly all the survivors
that when the crash came there was almost no excitement. Many who felt
anxious enough to go on deck to inquire what had happened were little
perturbed when they learned that the ship had “only struck an iceberg.”
It appeared to be a glancing blow and at first there was no indication
of a serious accident.
A group of men at cards in the smoking room sent one of their number to
look out of the window, and when he came back with the announcement
that the boat had grazed an iceberg, the party went on with the game.
It was never finished.
The stoppage of the engines was noticed more than the collision, the
effect being, as one survivor put it, like the stopping of a loud
ticking clock.
The over-confident passengers were not brought to the slightest
realization that the collision might mean serious danger until the call
ran through the ship, “All passengers on deck with life-belts on.”
Captain Smith, it is said, was not on the bridge when the collision
occurred, but when hurriedly summoned by his first officer, he took
charge of what seemed a hopeless situation in a manner which the
passengers praise as calm, resolute and efficient to the highest degree.
One of the most stirring narratives of action and description of
scenes that followed the collision was told by L. Beasley, a Cambridge
University man, who was one of the surviving second cabin passengers.
THE CREWS ALLOTTED TO THE BOATS.
“The steamer lay just as if she were awaiting the order to go on again,
when some trifling matter had been adjusted,” he said. “But in a few
minutes we saw the covers lifted from the boats, and the crews allotted
to them standing by ready to lower them to the water.
“Presently we heard the order, ‘All men stand back and all ladies
retire to the next deck below’--the smoking room deck or ‘B’ deck. The
men stood away and remained in absolute silence, leaning against the
end railing or pacing slowly up and down.
“The boats were swung out and lowered from A deck. When they were to
the level of B deck, where all the ladies were collected, the ladies
got in quietly with the exception of some, who refused to leave their
husbands. In some cases they were torn from them and pushed into the
boats.
“All this time there was no trace of any disorder; no panic or rush
for the boats, and no scenes of women sobbing hysterically. Everyone
seemed to realize so slowly that there was imminent danger. When it
was realized that we would be presently in the sea with nothing but our
life-belts to support us until we were picked up by passing steamers,
it was extraordinary how calm everyone was and how complete the
self-control.
“One by one the boats were filled with women and children.
“Presently we heard the order, ‘All men stand back,’ and all lowered
and rowed away into the night. Presently the word went around among the
men, ‘The men are to be put in boats on the starboard side.’ I was on
the port side and most of the men walked across the deck to see if this
was so. Presently I heard the call, ‘Any more ladies?’
“Looking over the side of the ship I saw boat No. 13 swinging level
with B deck, half full of women. I saw no more come, and one of the
crew said then: ‘You’d better jump.’ I dropped in and fell in the
bottom as they cried ‘lower away.’”
Beasely said that the lifeboat was nearly two miles away from the
Titanic less than two hours later, when they made out that the great
liner was sinking.
SHIP APPARENTLY BREAKS IN TWO.
Other survivors who were nearer to the sinking liner told of hearing
the strains of “Nearer, My God, to Thee” played as the liner sank, and
some of those in the lifeboats blended their voices in the melody.
Suddenly there was a mighty roar and the ship, already half submerged,
was seen to buckle and apparently break in two by the force of an
explosion caused when the water reached the hot boilers.
The bow sank first and for fully five minutes the stern was poised
almost vertically in the air, when suddenly it plunged out of sight.
With the last hope gone of seeing their loved ones alive, many women
in the lifeboats seemed to be indifferent whether they were saved or
not. They were nearly 1000 miles from land and had no knowledge that a
ship of succor was speeding to them. Without provisions or water, there
seemed little hope of surviving long in the bitter cold.
There were sixteen boats in the forlorn procession which entered upon
the terrible hours of suspense.
The confidence that the big ship, on which they had started across
the sea, was sure to bring them safely here was now turned to utter
helplessness. But the shock of learning that their lives were in peril
was hardly greater than the relief when, at dawn, a large steamer’s
stacks were seen on the horizon, and eager eyes soon made out that the
vessel was making for the scene.
The rescue ship proved to be the Carpathia, which had received the
Titanic’s distress signals by wireless.
By 7 o’clock in the morning all the Titanic’s sixteen boats had been
picked up and their chilled and hungry occupants welcomed over the
Carpathia’s side. The Carpathia’s passengers, who were bound for a
Mediterranean cruise, showed every consideration for the stricken,
and many gave up their cabins that the shipwrecked might be made
comfortable.
The rescued were in all conditions of dress and undress, and the women
on the Carpathia vied with one another in supplying missing garments.
On the four days’ cruise back to New York many, who had realized that
their experiences would be waited by an anxious world, put their
narratives to paper while their nerves were still at a tension from the
excitement of the disaster they had barely escaped.
CHAPTER V.
BELIEVED SHIP UNSINKABLE.
Shots and Hymn Mingle--Titanic Settled Slowly--Best Traditions Upheld
by Passengers and Crew--Boiler Explosions Tore Ship Apart--Anguish
in the Boats--Survivors Carried to Carpathia--Not Enough Provision
Against Accident.
Outside of great naval battles no tragedy of the sea ever claimed so
many victims as did the loss of the Titanic. The pitiful part of it is
that all on board the Titanic might have been saved had there been a
sufficient number of lifeboats aboard to accommodate the passengers and
crew.
Only sixteen lifeboats were launched, one of these, a collapsible boat,
the last to be launched, was overturned, but was used as a raft and
served to save the lives of many men and women.
Many women went down with the ship--steerage women, unable to get
to the upper decks where the boats were launched; maids, who were
overlooked in the confusion; cabin passengers, who refused to desert
their husbands, or who reached the decks after the last of the
lifeboats was gone and the ship was settling for her final plunge to
the bottom of the Atlantic.
Confidence in the ability of the Titanic to remain afloat led many of
the passengers to death. The theory that the great ship was unsinkable
remained with hundreds who had entrusted themselves to the gigantic
hulk long after the officers knew that the vessel could not long remain
above the surface.
That so many of the men passengers and members of the crew were saved,
while such a large majority of females drowned was due to the fact that
the women had not appeared about the lifeboats in sufficient numbers
to fill them when they first were launched. Dozens of male survivors
assert they were forced into the first boats lowered against their will
by officers who insisted that the boats should go overboard filled to
their capacity.
From a rather calm, well ordered sort of leaving of passengers over
the side when the disaster was young the departure of survivors became
a riot as the last boats were lowered and it was apparent that the
Titanic would sink.
Steerage passengers fought their way to the upper decks and struggled
with brutal ferocity against cabin passengers who were aimlessly trying
to save themselves. Officers of the ship shot down men who sought to
jump into already overcrowded boats. The sound of the pistol shots
mingled with the strains of “Nearer, My God, to Thee,” played by the
ship’s orchestra as the Titanic took her final plunge.
MURDOCK SHOOTS HIMSELF.
Murdock, the first officer, who was on the bridge in charge of the
Titanic when she struck the iceberg, shot himself when convinced the
vessel was doomed. The report that Captain Smith shot himself is
contradicted by survivors, who say they saw him swept from the ship as
she went down.
The Titanic settled into the sea gently. The greater part of her bulk
was under water when she slipped beneath the waves. No trace of suction
was felt by those in lifeboats only a few hundred yards away.
Colonel John Jacob Astor died a hero and went down with the ship. Had
he leaped into the water as she made her final plunge, he might have
been picked up by one of the lifeboats, but he remained on the deck and
was swept under by the drawing power of the great bulk, bound for the
bottom.
All the officers who died and most of the members of the crew upheld
the traditions of heroism held sacred by seamen. They did their duty
to the end and died with their ship. Not a man in the engine room was
saved; not one of them was seen on deck after the collision. They
remained at their posts, far down in the depths of the stricken vessel,
until the waves closed over what was at once their pride and their
burial casket.
A boiler explosion tore the Titanic apart shortly before she sank. This
occurred when the sea water, which had been working its way through
the forward compartments, invaded the fireroom. After the explosion
the Titanic hung on the surface, upheld only by the water-tight
compartments, which had not been touched by the collision.
Although the officers of the Titanic had been warned of the proximity
of ice, she was steaming at the rate of twenty-three knots an hour when
she met her end. The lookouts in the crow’s nest saw an iceberg ahead
and telephoned the bridge. The vessel swung slightly in response to her
rudder, and the submerged part of the iceberg tore out her plates along
the starboard quarters below the water.
COMPARTMENT WALL GIVES WAY.
Water rushed into several of the compartments. The ship listed to
starboard. Captain Smith hurried to the bridge. It was thought the ship
would float, until a shudder, that vibrated throughout the great frame,
told that a compartment wall had given away. Then a definite order
was given to man the lifeboats, and stewards were sent to instruct
passengers to put on life preservers.
So thoroughly grounded was the belief of the cabin passengers that the
Titanic was unsinkable that few of them took the accident seriously.
Women in evening dress walked out of the magnificent saloons and joked
about the situation. Passengers protested against getting into the
lifeboats, although the ship was then sinking by the head.
Mr. and Mrs. H. J. Allison and their little daughter remained on the
ship and were lost, after the infant son of the Allison family had been
placed in a lifeboat in charge of a nurse.
Isidor Straus and his wife did not appear on deck until an order had
been issued that only women and children should be allowed in the
lifeboats. Mrs. Straus clung to her husband and refused to leave him.
They died in each other’s arms.
Those who escaped in the first lifeboats were disposed to look on
their experience as a lark. The sailors manning the oars pulled away
from the Titanic. The sound of music floated over the starlit waves.
The lights of the Titanic were burning.
Like simultaneous photographs of the same tragedy etched on the brains
of 745 persons, survivors of the Titanic tell of their experiences and
what they saw in those pitifully few hours between the great ship’s
impact on the iceberg and the appalling moment when she disappeared.
As the survivors came, half fainting, half hysterical, down the
Carpathia’s gang plank, they began to relate these narratives. Many of
these were disjointed, fragmentary--a picture here, a frightful flash
of recollection there, some bordered on hallucination, some were more
connected as one of those who are now beginning to realize the horror
through which they came. A few strangely enough, are calm and lucid.
But every one thrills with some part of the awful truth as its narrator
saw it.
INDIVIDUALLY CONFLICTING STORIES OF THE WRECK.
Each tale is like another view of the same many-sided shield. Sometimes
they seem to contradict each other, but that is because those who
witness such scenes see them as individuals. There is not a survivor
but has something new and startling and dramatic to tell.
Taken altogether their accounts are a composite picture of 700 separate
experiences.
The shock of the collision had barely jarred the ship. One man who was
directing letters in his cabin kept on with his work until he felt a
sudden shift in the position of the ship and rushed to the deck in time
to leap into a lifeboat. Some of the passengers had returned to their
berths.
Nothing occurred to indicate to the passengers aboard the Titanic or
moving away from the ship in lifeboats that the vessel would not remain
afloat until help should arrive, until the boilers exploded. Then the
end was apparent to all.
Men with life-preservers strapped about their waists, jumped overboard
by scores and some were picked up by boats which had not got far from
the ship.
As the last three lifeboats were launched the restriction as to women
and children was removed. It was a free-for-all then on the deck, where
unskilled men, principally stewards, were trying to get the cumbersome
boats overboard. Nearly all those who took part in that struggle for
life are dead. Those who survived are not anxious to talk about it.
Just before the Titanic disappeared from view men and women leaped from
the stern. As the portion of vessel remaining above water swung up
to an almost perpendicular position hundreds on the upper decks were
thrown into the sea and were pulled down in the vortex. The biggest,
most thrilling moments of the wreck were those last moments when the
air-tight compartments in the after part of the Titanic were supporting
the balance of the ship.
KEPT TOGETHER BY GREEN LIGHT.
None are alive to tell the tale of that short period. Toward 2 o’clock
on Monday morning a green light aboard one of the lifeboats kept the
fleet of craft carrying the survivors together. Through the hours
until dawn the men in charge of the boats hovered about that green
light. Occasionally bodies of men slipped by the lifeboats. A few men,
more dead than alive, were pulled aboard the boats, that were now
overcrowded.
The weather became bitterly cold and the survivors suffered physical
pain as well as mental anguish. Benumbed by the extent of the
catastrophe most of the women sat motionless in their places. The
Carpathia appeared soon after dawn. Not until the big Cunarder was
close by did the realization of what had happened reach the women
survivors.
Many of them became temporarily insane. It was necessary to use force
to place them in swings in which they were hoisted to the Carpathia’s
decks. The officers of the Carpathia knowing the Titanic had gone down,
were prepared for an emergency. Passengers on the Cunarder gave their
cabins to the Titanic sufferers. The captain surrendered his room for
hospital purposes. Stewardesses were compelled to cut the clothing from
some of the women who had jumped into the water and been picked up by
the lifeboats.
Among the survivors picked up by the Carpathia were several babies.
These little ones were tossed overboard by their parents and rescued by
the boats. The identity of these orphans may never be determined. When
the list of persons aboard the Carpathia was checked up it was found
that among the survivors were thirty women who had been widowed by the
disaster.
Nearly all these women, bereft of their life partners, were reassured
by the hope that those who had been left behind had been picked up
by another vessel until they reached New York. For some reason the
impression prevailed on the Carpathia that the Californian had picked
up a number of survivors floating in the sea upheld by life-preservers.
EVERY HUSBAND SAVED SAVES HIS WIFE.
As against the thirty widows stands the record of every married man who
was saved. Each of these men saved his wife also. No wife was left on
the Titanic by a husband who had reached a lifeboat.
Narratives of the various survivors, assembled in a consecutive
narrative, makes one of the most thrilling tales of modern life. It
is a narrative filled with heroism unparalleled--bravery and heroism
performed by American business men. They were men of millions who had
everything to live for and yet, in that crisis at sea, they worked
coolly, steadfastly to save women and children. Then they went down
with the White Star liner Titanic, the greatest ship afloat.
When the Carpathia came into port carrying the more than 700 survivors
of the disaster, the curtain, which had hidden the story of the tragedy
since the first word of it was flashed to a startled world, was drawn
aside. Here is the real tale of the sinking of the Titanic.
The Titanic was athrob with the joy of life on Sunday night, when
without warning, the great liner was jammed against a partly submerged
iceberg. The blow, which was a glancing one, did not cause much of a
jar and there were some on board who did not know that an accident had
happened until later. The liner struck the berg on the starboard side
amidships.
Only Captain E. J. Smith, the commander, realized that there might
be grave danger, and even he did not regard the collision as fatal.
Going to the wireless cabin in which Phillips, the operator, was in
conversation with Cape Race on traffic matters, he gave orders to the
wireless man to hold himself in readiness to flash out a distress
signal.
At the time there was a great throng in the main saloon, where the
ship’s orchestra was giving a concert. Despite the bitterly cold
weather, some of the passengers were taking advantage of the bright
moonlight to stroll upon the decks. Survivors, who were upon the
starboard side, said that the ice mountain which the vessel struck was
at least 150 feet high where exposed.
UNDER FULL HEAD OF STEAM.
At the time the ship was steaming ahead under nearly a full head of
steam, at about twenty-one knots. If she had been going slowly the
disaster probably would never have happened.
Acting under orders from Captain Smith, the ship’s officers passed
among the passengers, reassuring them as the rumor that the ship had
struck spread.
“Keep cool; there is no danger,” was the message which, repeated over
and over, gradually became monotonous. The warning was hardly necessary
for none, save the highest officers of the ship, who were in Captain
Smith’s confidence, knew the real gravity of the situation.
Captain Smith immediately went below and began an examination. This
showed that quick action was necessary. Within fifteen minutes of his
first warning the captain again entered the wireless cabin and told
Phillips to flash the distress signal.
“Send the international call for help, so they will understand.”
Captain Smith said.
Bride, the assistant operator, who had been asleep, was standing at
Phillips’ side.
Some of the passengers who had been sleeping were aroused and left
their berths. Many hastened on deck to get a glimpse of the berg,
but, so swiftly was it moving in the gulf stream current, that,
within twenty minutes after the vessel struck it, the ice mountain
had disappeared from view. At 11.50 P. M., fifteen minutes after the
collision, the first intimation of impending danger was given. Officers
passed among the passengers warning them to put on life belts. The
tarpaulins were cast off, the lifeboats and the life rafts and the
davit guys loosened so that the boats could be swiftly swung over the
side.
Members of the crew also donned life preservers; but, with studied
forethought, Captain Smith ordered the principal officers not to don
their belts. They were told, however, to be ready to do so in an
emergency.
PHILLIPS POUNDS OUT THE S. O. S.
The ship soon had begun to list. The wireless masts were sputtering a
blue streak of sparks. Phillips at his key pounded out one “S. O. S.”
call after another. He alternated between the “S. O. S.” and the “C. Q.
D.” so that there might be no chance of the signal being misunderstood.
The first ship to respond to the Titanic was the Frankfurt; the second
was the Carpathia. Phillips told the Carpathia’s wireless man that the
accident was serious and that the White Star liner was sinking by the
head.
“We are putting about and coming to your aid,” was the reply flashed by
the Cunarder.
About 12.15 o’clock the officers began warning the women to get into
the boats. Even at this time no one realized that there was any danger.
Many of the women refused to get into the boats and had to be placed in
them forcibly by the crew.
Colonel and Mrs. John Jacob Astor were walking upon the deck. They
were approached by Captain H. D. Steffason, of the Swedish Embassy, at
Washington. Captain Steffason advised Mrs. Astor to leave the ship.
She demurred, saying there was no danger. Finally Colonel Astor said:
“Yes, my dear, it is better for you to go; I will follow in another
boat after all the women have been taken off.”
They kissed and parted. It was a beautiful parting.
Mrs. Washington Dodge, of San Francisco, wife of another prominent
passenger, was asleep in her stateroom. She was aroused by her husband,
who urged her to get in a boat. So certain were both that the measures
were only precautionary and not necessary that they did not even kiss
each other good-bye. Mr. Dodge embarked in another boat.
These incidents are given because they are typical. They show how
little the passengers knew that they were standing at the brink of
death.
THE GAP INCREASES.
The riven plates under the water increased the gap, allowing more and
more water to pour into the hold. The steel frame had been buckled by
the impact of the collision and water was rushing into the supposedly
water-tight compartments around the doors. The dynamo supplying the
ship’s searchlight and the wireless outfit were put out of commission.
Officers hurried hither and thither, reporting to Captain Smith. This
master mariner, hero of the White Star Line, knew that he was doomed to
death by all the traditions of the sea, but did not flinch. He was the
coolest man on board. As lifeboat after lifeboat was filled and swung
over the side it pulled off some distance and stood by.
When the officers began to load the women of the steerage into the
boats trouble started. Men refused to be separated from the wives.
Families clamored to get into life boats together. The ship’s officers
had a hard time subduing some of the steerage passengers. The survivors
say that some of the men of the steerage were shot by the ship’s
officers.
As the officers were loading the women of the first cabin list into the
boat they came upon Mrs. Isador Straus, the elderly wife of the noted
philanthropist. She started to get into a boat, but held back, waiting
for her husband to follow. Mr. Straus tenderly took her in his arms,
bade her farewell and explained that he must abide by the inexorable
rule of the sea, which says women and children must be saved first.
“If you do not go I don’t go,” exclaimed the devoted wife. She clung to
her husband’s arm, and, despite his efforts and the efforts of officers
to persuade her to get into one of the boats, she refused. The devoted
couple went to death together.
While the vessel was going down the call for help was picked up and
acknowledged by the White Star liners Olympic and Baltic. They turned
their heads toward the Titanic, but were too far away to render aid.
STRAINS OF MUSIC DROWNS ALL CRIES.
The band, which had been playing incessantly in the main saloon, moved
out to the open deck and the strains of music rose above the shouts of
the officers and the cries of the passengers. By 1 o’clock even those
who knew nothing of seamanship began to realize by the angle at which
the giant liner careened that she was in grave danger. By this time
more than half of the life boats had been sent away and they formed a
ring in the darkness about the great vessel.
Excitement began to run high. Major A. W. Butt, U. S. A., military aide
to President Taft; William T. Stead, the famous journalist; Colonel
Aster, and others of the passengers volunteered their services to
Captain Smith. They helped the officers hold back other male passengers
who by this time had become thoroughly frightened.
As one of the lifeboats was being swung over the ship’s side, a frantic
mother who had been separated from her eight-year-old boy, cried out
hysterically. Colonel Astor was standing by the boat, assisting the
officers. The little boy, in fright and despair, stretched out his arms
appealingly to his mother, but the officer in command of the boat said
that it would not be safe for another to enter.
Colonel Astor, seeing a girl’s hat lying upon the deck, stealthily
placed it upon the boy’s head. Lifting up the child, he called out:
“Surely you will not leave a little girl behind.” The ruse worked and
the child was taken on board.
Up in the wireless room, Bride had placed a life preserver upon his
companion, Phillips, while Phillips sat at his key. Upon returning
from Captain Smith’s cabin with a message, Bride saw a grimy stoker
of gigantic proportions bending over Phillips removing the life belt.
Phillips would not abandon his key for an instant to fight off the
stoker. Bride is a little man (he was subsequently saved) but plucky.
Drawing his revolver he shot down the intruder and the wireless work
went on as though nothing had happened.
J. Bruce Ismay, managing director of the International Mercantile
Marine Company, owners of the White Star Line, was sitting in the cafe
chatting to some friends when the liner ran upon the berg. He was the
first one informed by Captain Smith. Ismay rushed to the deck to look
at the berg.
“THE SHIP CANNOT SINK.”
“The ship cannot sink,” was the reply which he gave, with smiling
assurance, to all inquirers.
Nevertheless, there are survivors who say that Ismay was one of the
passengers of the lifeboats which put off. They saw him enter the boat.
By 1.30 o’clock the great vessel, which only a short time before had
been the marvel of the twentieth century, was a water-logged hulk.
Panic was steadily growing. The word had been passed around that the
ship was doomed. The night continued calm. The sea was smooth. The moon
was brilliant in the sky.
Into one of the last of the lifeboats that were launched two Chinamen,
employed in the galley, had hidden themselves. They were stretched in
the bottom of the boat, face downward, and made no sound. So excited
were the women that they did not notice the presence of the Chinese
until the boat had pulled off from the Titanic. Then the officer
in charge drew his revolver and shot both to death. The bodies were
tumbled overboard.
The weather was very cold and the sea was filled with floating ice.
All were warned before getting into the boats to dress as warmly as
possible. By the time the boats were filled the water had entered the
engine-room and the ship was drifting helplessly. About 2 o’clock
Captain Smith, who had been standing upon the bridge with a megaphone
to his mouth, again went to the wireless cabin.
“Men,” he said to Phillips and Bride, with a break in his voice, “you
have done your full duty. You can do no more. Abandon your cabin, for
it is now every man for himself.”
Bride left the cabin, but Phillips still clung to his key. He perished.
The saving of Bride, the second wireless man, was only one of a series
of thrilling escapes. Wearing a life belt, Bride went upon deck. He saw
a dozen men passengers tugging at a collapsible boat trying to work it
to the edge of the deck.
BRIDE SWEPT OVERBOARD.
The wireless man went to their assistance and they had got it nearly to
the point from which they could swing it over, when a wave rolled over
the deck. Bride, who had hold of an oar lock, was swept overboard with
the boat. The next thing he knew he was struggling in the water beneath
the boat.
The icy water struck a chill through him. He realized that unless he
got from beneath the boat he would drown. Diving deeply, he came up on
the outside of the gunwale and grasped it. On every hand was wreckage
of all kinds and struggling men who had been washed overboard by the
submerging comber. Bride clung to the craft until he saw another boat
near by. Exerting all his strength, he swam to this boat and was pulled
in it more dead than alive.
By this time all the boats and life rafts had been taken from the ship.
The boats were ringed about the ship from 150 feet to 1,000 yards
distant. Their occupants could see the lights burning on the vessel
which had settled low in the water.
Suddenly as they looked great billows of live sparks rose up through
the four funnels. These were followed by billowing clouds of smoke and
steam. The rush of water had reached the boiler rooms and the boilers
had exploded. After this the great vessel sank more rapidly and within
less than twenty minutes had plunged to her grave, two miles beneath
the surface.
In the meantime, however, those upon the sinking ship, who knew that
they had only a few hours at most to live, lived up to the most
splendid example of Anglo-Saxon courage. As the ship sank lower those
on board climbed higher, prolonging life to the last minute. Frenzied
search was made of every part of the decks by those who hoped that the
sailors had overlooked a life raft or small boat which might be used.
Their search was vain.
Colonel Astor, Major Butt, C. M. Hays, W. M. Clark and other friends
stood together. Astor and Butt were strong swimmers. When the water
reached the ship’s rail, Butt and Astor jumped and began swimming
rapidly away. There was little suction despite the bulk of the
foundering craft.
SHIP DISAPPEARS FROM VIEW.
There was a dreadful cry as the ship disappeared from view. Instantly
the water was filled with hundreds of struggling men. The spot just
above the grave of the liner was strewn with wreckage. Some tried to
climb upon the ice cakes. But the cold air and the cold water soon
numbed the fingers of the men in the water. Even the most powerful of
the refugees soon gave out. Exhausted by their effort and numb from
exposure they dropped one by one.
There are survivors, however, among them Dr. Henry J. Frauenthal, of
this city, who said that they heard cries from the water for two hours
after the Titanic sank. Amidst the acres and acres of wreckage hundreds
of dead bodies floated. Many of them were among the first cabin
passengers, still dressed in their evening clothes which they had worn
when the ship struck the iceberg.
CHAPTER VI.
HOW SURVIVORS ESCAPED.
Managing Director Accused--Stoker Makes Direct Charge--Supported
by Many Survivors--Tells about It--“Please Don’t Knock”--Demanded
Food--Brave Lot of Women--First Officer Shot Himself.
One man stands out in a most unenviable light amid the narratives of
heroism and suffering attending the great Titanic sea tragedy. This
man is J. Bruce Ismay, managing director of the White Star Line, who,
according to accounts of survivors, made himself the exception to the
rule of the sea, “Women first,” in the struggle for life.
Some of these survivors say he jumped into the first life boat, others
that he got into the third or fourth. However that may be, he is among
the comparatively few men saved, and the manner of his escape aroused
the wrath and criticism of many.
A woman with a baby was pushed to the side of the third boat, says one
survivor. Ismay got out; he then climbed into the fourth boat. “I will
man this boat,” he said, and there was no one who said him nay.
“Mr. Ismay was in the first lifeboat that left the Titanic,” declared
William Jones, an eighteen-year-old stoker, who was called to man one
of the lifeboats. Jones comes from Southampton, England, and this was
his first ocean voyage. He left the Carpathia tottering. “There were
three firemen in each boat,” he said. “I don’t know how many were
killed in the boiler explosion which occurred after the last lifeboat
had put off. I saw four boats, filled with first cabin passengers,
sink. In the boat I was in, two women died from exposure. We were
picked up about 8 o’clock.”
Mrs. Lucien P. Smith, of Huntingdon, W. Va., daughter of Representative
James Hughes, West Virginia, was in the third boat that was launched,
and in that boat was Mrs. John Jacob Astor. “My niece saw Mr. Ismay
leaving the boat. He was attended by several of the crew and every
assistance was given him to get into the boat,” says Mrs. Smith. “And
when the Carpathia finally came along and rescued the shipwrecked
passengers, some of the crew of the Carpathia, together with men of the
Titanic, actually carried Mr. Ismay to spacious rooms that had been set
aside for him. As soon as Mr. Ismay had been placed in this stateroom a
sign was placed on the door: “Please don’t knock.”
MRS. W. J. CARDEZA’S NARRATIVE.
According to Mrs. W. J. Cardeza, of Philadelphia, who gave her
narrative after she had arrived at the Ritz-Carlton with T. D. M.
Cardeza, J. Bruce Ismay was not only safely seated in a lifeboat before
it was filled, but he also selected the crew that rowed the boat.
According to Mrs. Cardeza, Mr. Ismay knew that Mr. Cardeza was an
expert oarsman and he beckoned him into the boat. Mr. Cardeza manned an
oar until Mr. Ismay’s boat was picked up about two hours later.
The White Star Line, through Ismay, disclaimed responsibility, saying
that it was “an act of God.” Ismay defended his action in taking to the
lifeboat. He said that he took the last boat that left the ship. “Were
there any women and children left on the Titanic when you entered the
boat?” he was asked. The reply was, “I am sure I cannot say.”
J. Bruce Ismay described to a reporter how the catastrophe occurred.
“I was asleep in my cabin,” said Mr. Ismay, “when the crash came. It
woke me instantly. I experienced a sensation as if the big liner were
sliding up on something.
“We struck a glancing blow, not head on, as some persons have supposed.
The iceberg, so great was the force of the blow, tore the ship’s plates
half way back, I think, although I cannot say definitely. There was
absolutely no disorder.
“I left in the last boat. I did not see the Titanic sink. I cannot
remember how far away the lifeboat in which I was had been rowed from
the ship when she sank.”
Mr. Ismay began his interview by reading a prepared statement, to this
effect:
“In the presence and under the shadow of so overwhelming a tragedy
I am overcome with feelings too deep for words. The White Star Line
will do everything humanly possible to alleviate the sufferings of the
survivors and the relatives of those who were lost.
“The Titanic was the last word in ship building. Every British
regulation had been complied with and her masters, officers and crew
were the most experienced and skillful in the British service.
WELCOMES EXHAUSTIVE INQUIRY.
“I am informed that a committee of the United States Senate has been
appointed to investigate the accident. I heartily welcome a most
complete and exhaustive inquiry as the company has absolutely nothing
to conceal and any aid that my associates or myself, our ship builders
or navigators can render will be at the service of both the United
States and the British Governments.”
“How soon did she sink after she struck?” Mr. Ismay was asked. “Let me
see, it was two hours and twenty-five minutes, I think. Yes, that is
right.”
“In other words, there would have been ample time to have taken
everybody off if there had been enough lifeboats?” he was asked. “I do
not want to talk about that now,” was the reply.
“Did you go off in the first boat?” some one asked. “What do you mean?”
“Were you in the first boat that left the ship?” “No,” he replied,
slowly and firmly, “I was not. I was in the last boat. It was one of
the forward boats.”
“Did the captain tell you to get in the boat?” “No.”
“What was the captain doing when you last saw him?” “He was standing on
the bridge.”
“It is not true that he committed suicide?” “No. I heard nothing of it.”
Mr. Ismay was asked to explain the delay in the sending of the news of
the wreck from the Carpathia. He said:
“I can’t say anything about that now except that I sent the first
telegram announcing what had happened to Mr. Franklin about 11 o’clock
on the morning that we were picked up. I am told that that telegram did
not reach its destination here until yesterday.”
In response to requests for more details Mr. Ismay said: “I must refuse
to say more until to-morrow, when I appear before the Congressional
Committee.”
“For God’s sake, get me something to eat. I’m starved. I don’t care
what it costs or what it is. Bring it to me.”
AN OFFICER’S COMPLETE ACCOUNT.
This was the first statement made by Ismay, a few minutes after he was
landed on board the Carpathia. It is vouched for by an officer of the
Carpathia. This officer gave one of the most complete accounts of what
happened aboard the Carpathia from the time she received the Titanic’s
appeal for assistance until she landed the survivors at the Cunard line
pier.
“Mr. Ismay reached the Carpathia in about the tenth lifeboat,” said the
officer. “I didn’t know who he was, but afterward I heard the others
of the crew discussing his desire to get something to eat the minute
he put his foot on deck. The steward who waited on him, McGuire, from
London, says Mr. Ismay came dashing into the dining room, and, throwing
himself in a chair, said, ‘Hurry, for God’s sake, and get me something
to eat; I’m starved. I don’t care what it costs or what it is; bring it
to me.’
“McGuire brought Mr. Ismay a load of stuff, and when he had finished
it he handed McGuire a two-dollar bill. ‘Your money is no good on this
ship.’ McGuire told him. ‘Take it,’ insisted Mr. Ismay, shoving the
bill in McGuire’s hand. ‘I am well able to afford it. I will see to
it that the boys of the Carpathia are well rewarded for this night’s
work.’ This promise started McGuire making inquires as to the identity
of the man he had waited on. Then we learned that he was Mr. Ismay. I
did not see Mr. Ismay after the first few hours. He must have kept to
his cabin.
“The Carpathia received her first appeal from the Titanic about
midnight, According to an officer of the Titanic, that vessel struck
the iceberg at twenty minutes to 12 o’clock and went down for keeps at
nineteen minutes after 2 o’clock. I turned in on Sunday night a few
minutes after 12 o’clock. I hadn’t closed my eyes before a friend of
the chief steward told me that Captain Rostron had ordered the chief
steward to get out 3,000 blankets and to make preparations to care for
that many extra persons. I jumped into my clothes and was informed of
the Titanic. By that time the Carpathia was going at full speed in the
direction of the Titanic.
THE CREW TOLD WHAT IS EXPECTED OF THEM.
“The entire crew of the Carpathia was assembled on deck and were told
of what had happened. The chief steward, Harry Hughes, told them what
was expected of them.
“‘Every man to his post and let him do his full duty like a true
Englishman,’ he said. ‘If the situation calls for it, let us add
another glorious page to British history.’
“After that every man saluted and went to his post. There was no
confusion. Everything was in readiness for the reception of the
survivors before 2 o’clock. Only one or two of the passengers were on
deck, one of them, Mr. Beachler, having been awakened by a friend,
and the other because of inability to sleep. Many of the Carpathia’s
passengers slept all through the morning up to 10 o’clock, and had no
idea of what was going on.
“We reached the scene of the collision about 4 o’clock. All was black
and still but the mountain of ice just ahead told the story. A flare
from one of the lifeboats some distance away was the first sign of
life. We answered with a rocket, and then there was nothing to do but
wait for daylight.
“The first lifeboat reached the Carpathia about half-past 5 o’clock
in the morning, and the last of the sixteen boats was unloaded before
9 o’clock. Some of the lifeboats were only half filled, the first one
having but two men and eleven women, when it had accommodations for
at least forty. There were few men in the boats. The women were the
gamest lot I have ever seen. Some of the men and women were in evening
clothes, and others among those saved had nothing on but night clothes
and raincoats.
IMAGINE THEIR HUSBANDS PICKED BY OTHER VESSELS.
“As soon as they were landed on the Carpathia many of the women became
hysterical, but on the whole they behaved splendid. Men and women
appeared to be stunned all day Monday, the full force of the disaster
not reaching them until Tuesday night. After being wrapped up in
blankets and given brandy and hot coffee, their first thoughts were
for their husbands and those at home. Most of them imagined that their
husbands had been picked up by other vessels and then began flooding
the wireless rooms with messages. We knew that those who were not
on board the Carpathia had gone down to death, and this belief was
confirmed Monday afternoon when we received a wire from Mr. Marconi
himself asking why no news had been sent.
“We knew that if any other vessel could by any chance have picked
them up it would have communicated with land. After a while, when
the survivors failed to get any answer to their queries, they grew
so restless that Captain Rostron posted a notice that all private
messages had been sent and that the wireless had not been used to
give information to the press, as had been charged. Little by little
it began to dawn on the women on board, and most of them guessed the
worst before they reached here. I saw Mrs. John Jacob Astor when she
was taken from the lifeboat. She was calm and collected. She kept to
her stateroom all the time, leaving it only to attend a meeting of the
survivors on Tuesday afternoon.”
J. R. Moody was a quartermaster on the bridge beside First Officer
Murdock when the Titanic struck the berg. “There is no way of telling
the approach of the berg, and, besides, I do not intend to go into
that now,” said Moody. “We struck, and we paid dearly for it, and
that is all there is to that now. We were running between twenty-two
and twenty-three knots an hour. It seemed incredible that much damage
had been done at first, we struck so lightly. There was a little jar.
Almost immediately, though, Captain Smith rushed to the bridge and took
charge. Afterward I saw Murdock, standing on the first deck. I saw him
raise his arm and shoot himself. He dropped where he stood.
[Illustration: WIRELESS TELEGRAPHIC APPARATUS.]
“As far as Mr. Bruce Ismay goes, he was in the second boat that left
the Titanic. The first boat swamped. I am sure of that, and Mr. Ismay
was bundled into the second boat, regardless of his protests, to take
charge of it in place of First Officer Murdock, who had shot himself.
“When the Titanic started to sink Captain Smith was on the bridge. I
saw him. The first lurch brought the bridge almost under water, and the
captain was washed off. He clambered back, and must have been there
another ten minutes. When the bridge sank slowly down and he was washed
off for the second time, a boat tried to make back to him, but he waved
for it to keep back. The last anybody saw of him he was fighting his
way back to the Titanic. He drowned fighting to reach her.”
“J. Bruce Ismay never showed himself once during the whole voyage and
on the voyage on the Carpathia. We never saw him from the time the
vessel took up the survivors until we reached the dock. Personally I do
not think that Captain Smith was responsible for the high rate of speed
at which the Titanic was traveling when the ship foundered. I kept
a record during the voyage. From noon of Saturday to noon of Sunday
the Titanic traveled 546 knots. I believe they were trying to break
records. When the crash came the boat was traveling at top speed.”
HENRY E. STENGEL’S STORY.
This was the statement which Henry E. Stengel gave early today at his
residence, 1075 Broad st., Newark, N. J. Shaken with the horrors of
the wreck and the nerve-racking voyage on the rescue ship Carpathia,
Mr. Stengel spoke in stern terms of the recklessness which made the
accident so appalling. Although it was near to midnight when he and his
wife reached Newark, there were a hundred friends waiting to receive
them, all of whom hung breathlessly on the recital of the perils which
the two escaped.
Mr. Stengel and his wife had one of the most remarkable reunions of
any persons on the ship. The two did not escape in the same boat. Mrs.
Stengel being in the first launched, while her husband was in the very
last boat from the starboard side. Mrs. Stengel looked many years older
than when she left the other side a few weeks ago, and was even more
emphatic than her husband in criticism of the shortcomings of the White
Star officials.
“There was absolutely no water in our boat. We would have died of
thirst if rescue had not been near at hand,” she said. “I understand it
was the way in all the other lifeboats, few of which even had lanterns.
I have heard that a couple of them were provided with bread at the last
moment, but our boat was absolutely without any food.”
Mrs. Stengel was worn by the constant strain which had been pressing
upon her in the last five days. “This has been such a terrible worry
that I feel as though I could never sleep again,” she said. “Oh, it was
horrible, horrible. Sometimes I think that I would have been better
dead than to have so much to remember. You see when the crash first
came no one realized the awful seriousness of the situation. It was a
loud, grinding crash and it shook the boat like a leaf, but we had all
become so filled with the idea that the Titanic was a creation greater
than the seas that no one was terror-stricken. Some of the women
screamed and children cried, but they told us it was all right and that
nothing serious could happen.
DID NOT WANT TO LEAVE HER HUSBAND.
“I was just preparing for sleep when the crash came, and throwing on
some clothes, I rushed on deck with my husband. In a short time we
were told that the women would be sent in the boats. I did not want to
leave my husband, but he laughed and told me that the boating was only
temporary. There was very little confusion when we put off and the men
in the first and second cabins were absolutely calm. Mr. Stengel kissed
me and told me not to worry, that he would come in a later boat, unless
it was decided to bring us back on the ship.
“For some reason no attention was paid to the men who were put in our
boat. One of them was an undersized Chinaman and the other was an
Oriental of some kind. When the lifeboat struck the water they crawled
up in the bottom and began to moan and cry. They refused to take their
places at the oars and first class women passengers had to man many of
the rowlocks. Still none of us thought that the great Titanic would
sink. We rowed two hundred yards away, as they had told us, watching
the great ship. Then the lights began to go out and then came a
terrible crash like dynamite.
“I heard a woman in the bow scream and then came three more terrific
explosions. The boat gave a sudden lurch and then we saw the men
jumping from the decks. Some of us prayed and I heard women curse,
but the most terrible thing was the conduct of the Chinaman and the
Oriental. They threw themselves about the boat in absolute fits and
almost upset the boat. They were a menace during the whole night and in
the morning when the light began to come in the east and when the women
were exhausted from trying to man the oars, the two of them found some
cigarettes and lay in the bottom of the boat and smoked while we tried
to work the oars.”
There is no survivor better qualified to tell of the last incidents
aboard the vessel than Mr. Stengel is. He was one of the last three men
to leave the boat. He is a man of scientific turn of mind and is in
possession of some valuable data concerning the wreck.
LITTLE DISORDER ON BOARD.
“As my wife has told you, there was but little disorder on board after
the crash,” he said. “I realized the seriousness of the situation
immediately, because I saw Captain Smith come out of the cabin. He was
closely followed by Mr. and Mrs. George Widener, of Philadelphia.
“‘What is the outlook?’ I heard Mr. Widener inquire. ‘It is extremely
serious, gentlemen,’ he said. ‘Please keep cool and do what you can to
help us.’”
Deck stewards rushed through the corridors rapping frantically on
the doors of the occupied cabins. All were told that the danger was
imminent. Some heeded and grasping the first clothing they could find,
they rushed on deck. Others refused to come out. They would not believe
there was danger.
On deck the boat crews were all at their posts. The big lifeboats had
been shoved around ready to be put over the side. Women and children
were picked up bodily and thrown into them. The rule of the sea, women
and children first, was being enforced.
[Illustration]
One after the other the boats went over the side. Then a cry was set
up: “There are no more boats!” was the shout. Consternation seized
upon all that remained. They had believed there would be room for all.
Uncontrollable terror seized many. They fought for the life belts. Some
frantically tried to tear loose deck fittings hoping to make small
rafts that would sustain them until help would come. But everything was
bolted fast. Then, fearful that they would be dragged to death in the
swirling suction that would follow, the men began to leap into the ice
filled ocean.
They jumped in groups, seemingly to an agreed signal, according to the
stories of the survivors tonight. Some who jumped were saved, coming up
near lifeboats and being dragged into them by the occupants.
Slowly, steadily and majestically, the liner sank. One deck after the
other was submerged. Whether the boilers exploded is a question. Robert
W. Daniel, a Philadelphia banker, says that when the icy water poured
into the boiler room two separate explosions followed that tore the
interior out of the liner. Others say they did not hear any explosions.
PISTOL SHOTS FIRED.
Pistol shots were fired. Some survivors say they were fired at men who
tried to force women and children out of the way. No one who claimed to
be an eye-witness to the shooting could be located. One account related
in circumstantial detail that the captain and his first officer shot
themselves, but Daniel and other passengers positively say they saw the
white bearded, grizzled face of the veteran mariner over the top of the
bridge just before the railing disappeared. They say that not until
then did he jump into the ocean to drown in the suction that marked the
last plunge of the Titanic.
The plight of the survivors in the boats was pitiful in the extreme.
Few of the women or children had sufficient clothing, and they shivered
in the bitter cold blasts that came from the great field of ice which
surrounded them. The bergs and cakes of drift ice crashed and thundered
bringing stark terror to the helpless victims.
Frail women aided with the heavy oars tearing their tender hands until
the blood came. Few of the boats were fully manned, sailors had stood
aside deliberately, refusing life that the women might have a chance
for safety although their places were in the boats.
Daybreak found the little flotilla bobbing and tossing on the surface
of the ocean. It was not known whether help was coming. Panic seized
some of the occupants, some of the women tried to jump into the water,
and had to be forcibly restrained. The babies, little tots, just old
enough to realize their position, found themselves heroes. They set an
example which moved their elders to tears as they told of it to-night.
Some tried to comfort their stricken parents.
Finally, off in the distant horizon, a sailor in the leading boat,
discerned smoke. “We are saved,” went up the cry, and the rescue came
just in time, for before the Carpathia had taken aboard the occupants
of the last frail craft the waves were increasing in height, kicked up
by the wind that had increased with the rising of the sun.
All were tenderly cared for on the Cunard liner. The regular passengers
willingly gave up their cabins to their unfortunate refugees, medical
aid was forthcoming, and nothing left undone that could relieve the
distress.
DID NOT SEE ANY SHOTS FIRED.
“It was his face, more than anything else, which made me fearful,”
continued Mr. Stengel. “He looked like an old, old man. I heard him
give instructions to his officers, and they took their stations at the
boats. I did not see anyone shot during the whole wreck. They fired
three shots in the air to show the steerage men that the guns were
loaded, but I was on the boat almost to the last, and I didn’t see
anyone shot. The boat which saved me was not a regular lifeboat, but
a light emergency boat. There was a great rush for it. By the time it
was launched the first fear had subsided. It was the last to be lowered
from the starboard side.
“The Titanic seemed to be floating safely, and a lot of people
preferred it to the flimsy looking rowboats. A deckhand told me that
there was a vacant place in it. There I found Sir Cosmo Duff-Gordon,
Lady Duff-Gordon and their maid, Miss Francatelli. Just as the boat was
being lowered Mr. A. L. Solomon jumped in. We had gone but a little way
from the ship when the first boiler explosion came. It was followed
in quick succession by three others, at intervals of about one second
apart.”
In the boat which harbored Mr. Stengel were three stokers and two
members of the steerage. Mr. Stengel told graphically of the last
plunges of the ship and its final sinking. He declared that there was
a little eddy and no whirlpool when it sank. Many of the men on the
Titanic jumped into sea before the decks were awash. In telling of the
long night on the sea Mr. Stengel gave great credit to a member of the
crew who had taken three green lanterns on board just as the small
lifeboat was manned.
He said that it was the only beacon which the other lifeboats had for
guidance, and said that without it many more would surely have been
lost.
Mrs. Stengel spoke particularly of the calmness of the night.
“When the sun rose there was not a ripple on the water,” she said.
“It was as calm as a little lake in Connecticut. Words cannot express
the wonderful terrible beauty of it all--but of course I couldn’t
appreciate it, because I thought my husband had gone down in the sea.
“The shout of ‘land’ ever uttered by an explorer was not half so joyful
as the shout of ‘ship!’ which went up when the Carpathia appeared
on the horizon that morning,” she said. “The first dim lights which
appeared were eagerly watched and when it was really identified as a
ship, men and women broke down and wept.”
The reunion of Mr. and Mrs. Stengel was on the Carpathia. Each was
mourning the other as lost for more than an hour after they had been on
the vessel, when they met on the promenade deck. Their separation and
subsequent reunion was generally considered one of the most remarkable
in the history of the wreck.
CHAPTER VII.
WOMAN’S THRILLING NARRATIVE.
Barber Says Good Word for Accused Shipowner--Claims He was a
Witness--Saw the Whole Scene--Woman Tells Different Tale--Mrs.
Carter’s Thrilling Narrative--Barber’s Story Differs From Ismay’s Own.
J. Bruce Ismay, managing director of the White Star Line, who has
been widely charged with cowardice in saving himself when the Titanic
was wrecked, has found his first defender in the person of August H.
Weikman, “commodore” barber of that company’s fleet, who was chief
ship’s barber on the ill-fated vessel.
Weikman declares that he was a witness of the scene when Ismay left
the vessel, and that he literally was thrown into the lifeboat by a
seaman, who did not recognize him, and thought he was interfering with
the work. He asserts that Ismay was striving valiantly to help in the
work of launching the boats, and went overboard only under physical
compulsion.
Weikman was accompanied to his home in Palmyra, N. J., by his
brothers-in-law, A. H. and John Henricks, who tell of a vexatious
experience in getting him off the Carpathia. Weikman was badly injured
when he was blown off the ship by the explosion of the boilers.
A. H. Henricks charges that the custom officials refused him a pass
to the pier because he wanted to get a member of the ship’s crew, and
the official said they were not bothering about the crew. The brothers
finally made their way to the pier by running between double lines of
automobiles. Weikman was brought off the Carpathia on a rolling chair
too late to catch the special train which came to this city, and the
Pennsylvania Railroad officials provided him with a berth free of
charge.
“I was in my barber shop reading,” said Weikman, “when I felt a slight
jar and realized we had struck something. I went to the gymnasium to
see whether others had noticed it. I found some of the men punching
the bag, while Colonel Astor, Mr. Widener and a number of others were
watching them.
“I had known Mr. Widener for some time, and I advised him to put on a
life belt. He laughed at me.
“‘What sense is there in that? This boat isn’t going to sink,’ he said
to me. ‘There is plenty of time. We’re safer here than in a small boat,
anyway.’
“Then came the order to man the boats and I went on deck to help. I saw
Mr. Ismay at the rail, directing and helping the men. One of them did
not recognize him and said: ‘What are you interfering for? You get back
out of the way.’
“GET BACK OR GO OVERBOARD.”
“Another seaman warned the first man that he was speaking to the head
of the line. ‘I don’t care who he is; he’s got to get back or go
overboard. We can’t be bothered with him and his orders now,’ was the
reply. Mr. Ismay stuck to his place and continued giving orders and
directing the men.
“The rule was observed of sending over four women and then a man to
look after them. When four women had been put over, the seaman turned
to Mr. Ismay and ordered him over the side. Mr. Ismay refused to go,
when the seaman seized him, rushed him to the rail and hurled him over.
I saw that myself, and I know that Mr. Ismay did not go of his own
accord and that the charge of cowardice is unfair and untrue.
“While I was still helping at the boats there came an explosion from
below-decks and the ship took an awful lunge, throwing everybody into
a heap. I was hurled clear of the vessel’s side and landed on top of
a bundle of deck-chairs which was floating on the water. I was badly
bruised and my back was sprained. My watch stopped at 1.50 A. M. and I
believe it was at that time I was thrown into the water.
“While I lay floating on the bundle of chairs there came another
terrific explosion and the ship seemed to split in two. There was a
rain of wreckage and a big piece of timber fell on me, striking my
lifebelt. I believe if it had not been for the belt I would have been
killed. I floated for what I believe was about two hours. Then arms
reached down and drew me aboard a life raft. The man who did this was
a seaman named Brown, whose life I probably had saved two years ago by
hurrying him to a hospital in England when he was taken ill suddenly.
“There were six persons on the raft and others were in the water up to
their necks, hanging on to the edges of the raft. The raft was already
awash, and we could not take them aboard. One by one, as they became
chilled through, they bade us good-bye and sank. In the bottom of the
raft was a man whom I had shaved that morning, and whom I had been told
was worth $5,000,000. I did not know his name. He was dead.
PICKED UP BY THE CARPATHIA.
“And so we floated on the raft, bereft of hope and stupefied by the
calamity, until picked up by the Carpathia. I was so badly injured they
had to take me on board in a boatswain’s chair.”
The happiness of husbands at seeing their wives put in the way of
safety from the Titanic was described by Mrs. Turrell Cavendish,
daughter of Henry Siegel. She said: “I was with my husband in our
stateroom when the accident happened. He awakened me, I remember it was
midnight and told me something was the matter with the boat.
“My husband kissed me and put me into a boat, in which were
twenty-three women. He told me to go and that he would stay on the ship
with the other men. They were happy to see their wives lowered away in
the boats. They kept telling us they would be all right because the
ship could not sink.
“We were lowered into the water without any light, only one man tried
to get into the boat. He was pushed back by a sailor. Most of the
women in the boat I was in were in their bare feet. I can still see
those husbands kissing their wives and telling them good-bye. I can see
the sailors standing by so calm and brave. The sight of those good men
who gave their lives for others will always be with me. Words can’t
tell the tale of their sacrifice.
“The hours we spent in that small boat after those heroic men went down
were hours of torture. When we got on the Carpathia we were treated
with the utmost consideration.
“I saw Mr. Ismay when he came on board. He was trembling from head to
foot and kept saying, ‘I’m Ismay, I’m Ismay’.”
Immediately upon their disembarkation from the Carpathia Mr. and Mrs.
William E. Carter, Miss Lucille Carter and William E. Carter, Jr., of
Newport, Bryn Mawr, and 2116 Walnut street, Philadelphia, about whom so
much anxiety was felt for the first twenty-four hours after the news
of the Titanic disaster reached the mainland, went in taxicabs to the
home of William Dickerman, at 89 Madison avenue. Mr. Dickerman is a
brother-in-law of Mr. Carter.
IT WAS LIFE OR DEATH.
“I kissed my husband good-bye and as he stood on the deck I went
down the side to a lifeboat. There were no seamen there. It was life
or death. I took an oar and started to row,” said Mrs. Carter, who
was formerly Miss Lucille Polk, of Baltimore, when seen later at the
Madison avenue house.
Mrs. Carter had just come from the ship, and the tears were still
in her eyes; glad tears from the welcome she had received from her
relatives, among whom was Anderson Polk, who had come to New York to
meet her. She told of being roused from her sleep at fourteen minutes
of twelve on Sunday night by the sudden crash, of rushing out on the
deck to find the chaos of destruction quickly form itself into the
decisive action of brave men about to face their death.
Clasping her hands tightly she told how the men had stood back or else
helped to lower away the lifeboats, and then, kissing their wives,
bade them a good-bye which they thought would be forever. In brief
words, tensely spoken, she told of going into the lifeboat and taking
an oar. At ten minutes past 1 o’clock there was a sudden explosion and
the giant hulk of the Titanic blew up, rearing in the water like a
spurred horse and then sinking beneath the waves.
She had to pull hard with her oars in the desperate attempt which the
poorly manned lifeboat had to make to keep from being sucked down with
the diving Titanic. After minutes of work with the desperation of
death, they made their way out of the suction and were saved. It was
not until she was taken aboard the Carpathia that she met her husband,
saved because he had to man an oar in another lifeboat.
DID NOT ANTICIPATE TROUBLE.
“We had a pleasant voyage from England,” began Mrs. Carter. “The ship
behaved splendidly, and we did not anticipate any trouble at all. I had
retired on Sunday night, an hour before we struck the iceberg. The men
were in the cabin smoking. Most of them were in the smoking-room when
the ship hit.
“The first I knew of the accident was a tremendous thump which nearly
threw me out of my berth. I realized that something must have happened,
and feared that it was a bad accident. A moment later my husband came
down to the stateroom and told me that we had struck an iceberg.
“There was no confusion. I dressed myself hurriedly and went on deck
with my children. The ship was badly damaged. The officers thought at
first that she would not sink and we were told to be calm. But it was
not long before we knew that the ship could not long stand the strain
of the water which was pouring into the bow and bearing the ship down
on her forward part.
“Then came the time when we knew that it must either be the lifeboats
or stay on the ship and sink with her. The seamen began to lower away
the lifeboats. One after another they released whatever machinery held
them and they dropped into the ocean. There was ice all about us and
the night being comparatively clear we could see the floes around us
when we peered down over the side of the ship.
“When the boats had been lowered then it was that the time of parting
came. There was no excitement. Every one of the men whose wives or
women folk were with them took them to the side of the ship where a
lifeboat was waiting and kissed them over the side.
“Major Archibald Butt remained on board and went down with the ship.
Colonel Astor also went down with the ship. Mrs. Astor was in my boat.
The Colonel took her to the side and kissed her and saw her over the
side.
“When I went over the side with my children and got in the boat there
were no seamen in it. Then came a few men, but there were oars with no
one to use them. The boat had been filled with passengers and there was
nothing else for me to do but to take an oar.
WARNED TO PULL AWAY FROM SHIP.
“We could see now that the time of the ship had come. She was sinking
and we were warned by the cries from the men above to pull away from
the ship quickly. Mrs. Thayer, wife of the Vice president of the
Pennsylvania Railroad, was in my boat, and she, too, took an oar.
“It was cold and we had no time to clothe ourselves with warm
overcoats. The rowing warmed me. We started to pull away from the ship.
We could see the dim outlines of the decks above, but we could not
recognize anybody.
“We had pulled our lifeboat away from the Titanic for a distance of
about a city block, that is about all, I should say--when the Titanic
seemed to shake to pieces. The ship had struck about fourteen minutes
to 12. It was ten minutes past 1 when we saw her lunge.
“She had exploded. There was a rumbling noise within her, then she
gave a lurch and started to go down. We realized what it meant. That
the sinking ship would suck us under with her. It was a moment later
that the suction struck us. It was all we could do to keep from being
caught, so strong was the drag down that followed the Titanic.
“But we pulled away at last, after straining as hard as we could at the
oars. Then we were alone in the boat, and it seemed darker. We remained
in the boat all night waiting for daylight to come. It came at last,
and when it broke over the sea we saw ice floes all about it.
“It was about 8.30 o’clock when the Carpathia came into sight. I can’t
tell how I felt when I saw her. I had believed that my husband had gone
down on the ship. It was not until after we were taken over the side of
the Carpathia that I saw him.
“Mr. Carter had been compelled to take an oar in a lifeboat that was
not sufficiently manned. That is how he came to be saved. All of the
men waited for the women to go first. Mr. Carter was among the number.
When he put me into a lifeboat he stayed back, and I had thought when I
saw the ship blow up and sink that he had gone down with her.
DOES NOT DESERVE CRITICISM.
“Mr. Ismay does not deserve any criticism for being saved. He was
another of those who had to man an oar in a lifeboat, so as to get the
boats out of danger by being sucked under by the sinking Titanic.”
Three French survivors, Fernand Oment, Pierre Marechal, son of the
well-known French Admiral, and Paul Chevre, the sculptor, conjointly
cabled to the “Matin” a graphic narrative of the disaster to the
Titanic, in which they repeatedly insist that more lives could have
been saved if the passengers had not had such dogged faith that the
Titanic was unsinkable. Several boats, they declared, could have
carried double the number.
The three Frenchmen say that they were playing bridge with a
Philadelphian when a great, crunching mass of ice packed up against
the port holes. As they rushed on deck there was much confusion, but
this quickly died down. One of the officers when questioned by a woman
passenger humorously replied:
“Do not be afraid. We are merely cutting a whale in two.”
Presently the captain appeared to become somewhat nervous and ordered
all to put on life preservers. The boats were then lowered, but only
a few people stirred and several of the boats put off half empty, one
with only fifteen persons in it.
When the Frenchmen’s boat rowed off for half a mile the Titanic
presented a fairylike picture illuminated from stem to stern. Then
suddenly the lights began to go out and the stern reared up high in the
air. An immense clamor rose on all sides, and during an hour anguished
cries rang out.
It was, say the narrators, like a great chorus chanting a refrain of
death with wild obstinacy. Sometimes the cries died out and then the
tragic chorus began again more terribly and more despairingly.
The narrative continues:
“Those shrieks pursued us and haunted us as we pulled away in the
night. Then one by one the cries ceased, and only the noise of the sea
remained. The Titanic was engulfed almost without a murmur. Her stern
quivered in a final spasm and then disappeared.”
The Frenchmen and their companions suffered bitterly from the cold.
They cried out to attract attention, and a German baron, who was with
them, emptied his revolver in the air. When finally the Carpathia
appeared a feeble hurrah went up from the small boats, every one of
which moved as swiftly as possible toward the liner.
The Frenchmen related tragic incidents as they were leaving the
sides of the Titanic. After all the boats had been launched many of
the passengers who had stayed behind too long tried to embark on a
collapsible raft, which worked badly. Fifty persons climbed onto the
raft, which was half filled with water.
One after another the passengers on the raft were drowned, or perished
with the cold. When a body was found in the way it was thrown
overboard, and only fifteen of the fifty who had taken refuge on the
raft were saved by the Carpathia.
CHAPTER VIII.
SURVIVORS’ STIRRING STORIES.
Survivors’ Stirring Stories--How Young Thayer Was Saved--His Father,
Second Vice President of the Pennsylvania Railroad, Drowned--Mrs.
Straus’ Pathetic Death--Black Coward Shot--Countess Aids in Rowing
Boat.
Standing at the rail of the main deck of the ill-fated Titanic, Arthur
Ryerson, of Gray’s lane, Haverford, Pa., waved encouragement to his
wife as the lifeboat in which she and her three children--John, Emily
and Susan--had been placed with his assistance glided away from the
doomed ship. A few minutes later, after the lifeboat with his loved
ones had passed beyond the range of his vision, Mr. Ryerson met death
in the icy water into which the crushed ship plunged.
It is now known that Mr. Ryerson might have found a place in one of the
first lifeboats to be lowered, but made no effort to leave the ship’s
deck after assuring himself that his wife and children would be saved.
It was not until the Carpathia reached her dock that relatives who
were on hand to meet the survivors of the Ryerson family knew that
little “Jack” Ryerson was among the rescued. Day by day since the first
tidings of the accident to the Titanic were published, “Jack” had been
placed among the missing.
Perhaps of all those who came up from the Carpathia with the impress of
the tragedy upon them, the homecoming of Mrs. Ryerson was peculiarly
sad.
While motoring with J. Lewis Hoffman, of Radnor, Pa., on the Main Line,
on Monday a week before, Arthur L. Ryerson, her son, was killed. His
parents abandoned their plans for a summer pleasure trip through Europe
and took passage on the first home-bound ship, which happened to be the
Titanic, to attend the funeral of their son. And now upon one tragedy
a second presses.
Upon leaving the Carpathia Mrs. Ryerson, almost too exhausted and
weak to tell of her experiences, was taken in a taxicab to the Hotel
Belmont. With her were her son “Jack” and her two daughters, Miss Emily
and Miss Susan Ryerson.
The young women were hysterical with grief as they walked up from the
dock, and the little lad who had witnessed such sights of horror and
tragedy clung to his mother’s hand, wide eyed and sorrowful.
Mrs. Ryerson said that she and her husband were asleep in their
staterooms, as were their children, when the terrible grating crash
came and the ship foundered.
The women threw kimonos over their night gowns and rushed barefooted to
the deck. Master Ryerson’s nurse caught up a few articles of the little
boy’s clothing and almost as soon as the party reached the deck they
were numbered off into boats and lowered into the sea.
HARROWING AND TERRIBLE.
Mrs. John M. Brown, whose husband was formerly a well-known
Philadelphian, but now lives in Boston, described her experience on the
Titanic as the “most harrowing and terrible that any living soul could
undergo.”
“Oh, it was heart-rending to see those brave men die,” Mrs. Brown said,
half-sobbingly, after she had left the pier in a taxicab brought by her
husband.
Mr. Brown, for his part, said the days of agony which he had
experienced, when the lists of Titanic survivors were altered,
diminished and published incomplete, leaving him indecisive as to his
wife’s fate, was almost on a par what she had undergone.
In contradiction to several other statements, Mrs. Brown declared that
she saw no signs of panic or disorder on the Titanic and did not know
until later that there had been shooting on board the vessel.
“I was in my berth when the crash came,” Mrs. Brown said, “and after
the first shock when I knew instinctively that the vessel was sinking I
was comparatively calm.
“I had hardly reached deck when an officer called to me to enter a
lifeboat. I did so, and saw the huge liner split in half, with a pang
almost as keen as if I had seen somebody die.”
Mrs. Brown said that John B. Thayer, Jr., after jumping from the deck
of the liner, clad only in pajamas, swam through cakes of floating ice
to a broken raft. He was picked up by the boat of which Mrs. Brown was
an occupant.
Mrs. Brown said that it was about two hours after the Titanic sank that
their boat came within sight of an object bobbing up and down in the
cakes of ice, about fifty yards away.
Nearing, they made out the form of a boy clinging with one leg and both
arms wrapped around the piece of wreckage. Young Thayer uttered feeble
cries as they pulled alongside.
LAD PULLED INTO LIFE-BOAT.
The lad was pulled into the already crowded lifeboat exhausted. With a
weak, faint smile, Mrs. Brown said, the lad collapsed.
Women, who were not rowing or assisting in maneuvering the boat, by
vigorous rubbing soon brought Thayer to consciousness and shared part
of their scanty attire to keep him from dying from exposure. In the
meantime the boat bobbed about on the waves like a top, frequently
striking cakes of ice.
Mrs. Brown said for several hours more they battled with the sea before
help arrived.
“It was a blessed sight when all saw the Carpathia heading in our din,”
she declared. “We had hopes that a ship would come to our rescue and
all on board prayed for safe deliverance.
“No one can realize our feeling of gratitude when the Carpathia hoved
into sight. With increased energy the men, aided by the women, pulled
on the oars. We were soon taken aboard. Young Thayer was hurried into
the hospital on board the boat and was given stimulants and revived.
“Three survivors died soon after; they were buried at sea. Mrs. Brown
said that Mrs. John Jacob Astor, the wife of Colonel John Jacob Astor,
who proved himself a hero, was also an occupant of her boat.
“Mrs. Astor was frantic when she learned that her husband had gone with
the Titanic, but between sobs said he died a hero,” Mrs. Brown said.
“The colonel kissed her and pushing his bride to the side of the ship
told her to hurry to the lifeboats awaiting below.
“Mrs. Astor refused to listen to her husband’s entreaties until he
assured her that he would follow on the next boat, although all the
time he knew that he would sink.”
“The following horrors have never left me, day or night,” Mrs. Brown
continued.
DEAD BODIES OF BRAVE MEN.
“I saw dead bodies of brave men float past the lifeboats. I heard the
death cries of women and saw the terrible desolation of the wreck by
dawn.”
In the boat with Mrs. Brown were her two sisters, Mrs. Robert Cornell,
wife of Judge Robert Cornell, and Mrs. S. P. Appleton.
They followed each other down the long, roughly constructed rope
ladder, a distance of more than fifty feet, into the tenth lifeboat.
All were thinly clad. They had retired for the night and were tumbled
from their berths when the crash came.
When the Titanic sank and the first news came of the disaster, there
appeared in the list of first cabin passengers the name of “Washington
Logue.” Until J. Washington Logue, of Philadelphia, could be found to
explain that he was not on the high seas, many of his friends feared
that he had been on the Titanic.
When he landed from the Carpathia, Washington Dodge, of San Francisco,
was told how his name had been confused in the wireless reports from
the Olympic. He said he congratulated Mr. Logue on having been no
closer to disaster than this.
Mr. Dodge, who is a millionaire; Mrs. Dodge and their four-year-old
son, Washington Dodge, Jr., were among the first to land on the dock
from the Cunarder. Mr. Dodge carried a life preserver of the Titanic as
a memento.
“Nearly all the passengers had retired when the crash came, about
twenty minutes passed 10 o’clock,” said Mr. Dodge. “The liner was
struck on the starboard side, near the bow. The bow, it seemed,
withstood the crash, but water rushed into several compartments at the
same time.”
“There was complete order among the passengers and crew. We really
didn’t think there was any danger. We were assured that the ship would
float and that there were plenty vessels in the reach of wireless to
come to our aid if that should become necessary.
“Then the sinking of the Titanic by the head began and the crew was
ordered to man the boats. There was no panic. The officers told the men
to stand back and they obeyed. A few men were ordered into the boats.
Two men who attempted to rush beyond the restraint line were shot down
by an officer who then turned the revolver on himself. I could see Mrs.
Isador Straus. She clung to her husband and refused to leave him.
FLOATED FOR FOUR HOURS.
“We floated for four hours until we were picked up. Mr. Ismay left the
Titanic on a small boat.
“I did not see the iceberg. When we got into the boat she was gone.
“As the Titanic went down, Major Archibald Butt was standing on the
deck. I saw him.”
The body of one black coward, a member of the Titanic’s crew, lies
alone in the wireless “coop” on the highest deck of the shadowy bulk of
what was once the world’s greatest ship two miles down in the dark of
unplumbed ocean depths. There is a bullet hole in the back of his skull.
This man was shot by Harold Bride, the second wireless man aboard the
Titanic, and assistant to the heroic Phillips, chief operator, who
lost his life. Bride shot him from behind just at the instant that the
coward was about to plunge a knife into Phillips’ back and rob him
of the life preserver which was strapped under his arm pits. He died
instantly and Phillips, all unconscious at that instant that Bride was
saving his life, had but a brief little quarter of an hour added to his
span by the act of his assistant, and then went down to death.
This grim bit of tragedy, only a little interlude in the whole terrible
procession of horror aboard the sinking boat, occurred high above the
heads of the doomed men and women who waited death in the bleak galleys
of the decks.
“I had to do it,” was the way Bride put it.
“I could not let that coward die a decent sailor’s death, so I shot
him down and left him alone there in the wireless coop to go down with
the hulk of the ship. He is there yet, the only one in the wireless
room where Phillips, a real hero, worked madly to save the lives of two
thousand and more people.”
NEW YORK PHYSICIAN’S ESCAPE.
Miss Alice Farnan Leader, a New York physician, escaped from the
Titanic on the same boat which carried the Countess Rothes.
“The Countess is an expert oarswoman,” said Dr. Leader, “and thoroughly
at home on the water. She took command of our boat, when it was
found that the seamen who had been placed at the oars could not row
skilfully. Several of the women took their places with the Countess at
the oars and rowed in turns while the weak and unskilled stewards sat
quietly in one end of the boat.”
“The men were the heroes,” said Mrs. Churchill Candee, of Washington,
one of the survivors, “and among the bravest and most heroic, as I
recall, were Mr. Widener, Mr. Thayer and Colonel Astor. They thought
only of the saving of the women and went down with the Titanic, martyrs
to their manhood.
“I saw Mr. and Mrs. Isador Straus on the deck of the Titanic as I was
lowered into one of the lifeboats. Mrs. Straus refused to leave the
ship unless her husband could accompany her. They were on the top deck,
and I heard her say she would not leave her husband. She went down
with him as she had lived and traveled with him. Life without him did
not concern her, seemingly. ‘I’ve always stayed with my husband, so why
should I leave him now? I’ll die with him,’ I heard her say.
“Captain Smith, I think, sacrificed safety in a treacherous ice field
for speed. He was trying to make 570 miles for the day, I heard. The
captain, who had stood waist deep on the deck of the Titanic as she
sank, jumped as the ship went down, but he was drowned. All of the men
had bravely faced their doom for the women and children.
“The ship settled slowly, the lights going out deck after deck as
the water reached them. The final plunge, however, was sudden and
accompanied by explosions, the effect of which was a horrible sight.
Victims standing on the upper deck toward the stern were hurled into
the air and fell into the treacherous ice-covered sea. Some were
rescued, but most of them perished. I cannot help recalling again that
Mr. Widener and Mr. Thayer and Colonel Astor died manfully.
TWO DISTINCT SHOCKS.
“The ice pack which we encountered,” explained Mrs. Candee, “was
fifty-six miles long, I have since heard. When we collided with the
mountainous mass it was nearly midnight Sunday. There were two distinct
shocks, each shaking the ship violently, but fear did not spread
among the passengers immediately. They seemed not to realize what
had happened, but the captain and other officers did not endeavor to
minimize the danger.
“The first thing I recall was one of the crew appearing with pieces
of ice in his hands. He said he had gathered them from the bow of the
boat. Some of the passengers were inclined to believe he was joking.
But soon the situation dawned on all of us. The lifeboats were ordered
lowered and manned and the word went around that women and children
were to be taken off first. The men stood back as we descended to
the frail craft or assisted us to disembark. I now recall that huge
Woolner Bjomstrom was among the heroic men.”
“The Philadelphia women behaved heroically.”
This was the way Mrs. Walter B. Stephenson, of Haverford, a survivor of
the wreck of the fated Titanic, began her brief but graphic account of
the disaster at her home in Haverford, which she reached on the special
train that brought Mrs. John B. Thayer and others over from New York.
Worn by hours of terrible uncertainty on the frail lifeboats in the
open sea, almost distracted by the ordeal of waiting for news of those
left behind on the big liner, Mrs. Stephenson bore herself as did the
women whom she described heroically indeed.
She told how John B. Thayer, Jr., fell overboard when the boats were
launched, and how he was saved from the death that his father met, by
the crew of the lifeboat. She described tersely, to linger sadly as she
finished with the words, “But we never saw Mr. Thayer, Sr., at all.”
OCCUPANTS OF THE SAME BOAT.
Mrs. Thayer, Mrs. J. Boulton Earnshaw, of Mt. Airy, and Mrs. George D.
Widener were occupants of the same boat that carried Mrs. Stephenson to
safety, and, like Mrs. Stephenson, they witnessed the final plunge of
the Titanic.
“We were far off,” said Mrs. Stephenson, “but we could see a huge dark
mass behind us. Then it disappeared.” That was all she could tell of
the fate of those left on board.
“Then it disappeared,” she paused and her voice choked. “We weren’t
sure but what we might have been mistaken. A lingering hope remained
until long after the Carpathia picked us up. Then the wireless told the
terrible tidings. We were the sole survivors.”
Mrs. Stephenson wore the same dress that she hastily donned when the
crash occurred. It was a simple gown of dark texture, showing the wear
in its crumpled shape. Over it she had managed to throw a cape, and
to the covering she clung, as if yet fearful of the icy blasts of the
Northern Ocean.
Conveyed in a taxicab to the Pennsylvania Railroad Station from the
Cunard wharf, Mrs. Stephenson alighted, hastened across the train shed
and into a waiting elevator. She walked unaided. Relatives who had
rushed from Philadelphia to convey her in safety, were solicitous for
her welfare, but she assured them that she was well.
“And she is well,” said T. DeWitt Cuyler, a director of the
Pennsylvania Railroad who met the train. “She has borne up remarkably
under the strain.”
“I was wakened in my cabin by the shock,” Mrs. Stephenson began. “It
was nearly 12 o’clock, but I cannot be sure. The shock was great, but
not as great as the one I experienced in the San Francisco earthquake.
I was staying in the St. Francis Hotel at the time of the earthquake.
Even this terrible disaster cannot shake the memory of that night from
my mind.
ASSURANCE OF NO IMMEDIATE DANGER.
“I rose hastily from my berth and was about to hasten to the deck when
my maid assured me that there was no immediate danger and that I would
have time to dress; I put on this dress that I am wearing and threw a
cape around my shoulders. Then I went on deck.
“Scarcely had I gotten out in the air when an officer ordered me to don
a life belt. I returned to the cabin to buckle one around me. When I
returned I heard the order to man the lifeboats. There was no disorder.
The crew was under perfect discipline. Quickly and without any
excitement I was lifted into a lifeboat. Beside me I found Mrs. Thayer,
Mrs. Earnshaw and Mrs. Widener. Like myself they had no clothing except
what they wore.
“John B. Thayer, Jr., was with us. As the boat was lowered by the
davits, he slipped and fell into the water; luckily he wore a life belt
and was kept afloat until a sailor lifted him safely aboard. We never
saw Mr. Thayer, Sr., at all.
“As the boat pushed off from the ship Mrs. Widener collapsed. She was
finally revived. The Philadelphia women behaved heroically. They stood
up splendidly under the suspense, which was terrible. The sailors
rowed our boat some distance away. We thought we saw the Titanic sink,
but we couldn’t be sure. Behind us we could see a dark shape. Then it
disappeared. We despaired of any others being saved, but some hope
remained until long after the Carpathia had picked us up. Then the
wireless told the sad tale.
WAIFS FROM TITANIC RESTORED TO MOTHER’S ARMS.
Lola and Momon, the little waifs of the Titanic disaster, snatched from
the sea and kept for a month in a big, strange land, were clasped in
the arms of their mother Mme. Marcelle Navratil, who arrived in New
York, on May 16, from France on the White Star liner Oceanic.
Hurrying down the gangplank, after kindly customs officials had
facilitated her landing, Mme. Navratil, who is an Italian, 24 years
old, of remarkable beauty, rushed to Miss Margaret Hays, the rescuer
of the two little boys, who, with her father, was waiting on the pier.
They took her in a cab to the Children’s Society rooms, and there she
was reunited with her children.
The little boys, four and two years old, were thrust into one of the
last of the lifeboats to leave the sinking Titanic by an excited
Frenchmen, who asked that they be cared for. A steward told him he
could not enter the boat and he said he did not want to, but must save
his boys.
Arriving in New York on the Carpathia, Miss Hays at first could learn
nothing of the children’s identity, and she planned to care for them.
Then developed another chapter of the weird story of the disaster
in the ice fields. The Frenchman’s body was recovered and taken to
Halifax, where it was found that he was booked on the passenger list
under the name of “Hoffman.”
Cable messages to France brought the information that Mme. Navratil’s
husband, from whom she was separated, had kidnapped her children
and said he was going to America. He often used the name “Hoffman.”
Photographs of the boys were sent to Mme. Navratil in France, and she
identified them as her children.
CHAPTER IX.
HOW ASTOR WENT TO DEATH.
How Astor Went to Death--“I Resign Myself to My Fate,” He
Said--Kissed Wife Fond Farewell--Lifted Cap to Wife as Boat Left
Ship--Crushed to Death By Ice--Famous Novelist’s Daughter Hears of
His Death--Philadelphia Millionaires’ Heroism--Last to See Widener
Alive--Major Butt Dies a Soldier’s Death.
The heroism of the majority of the men who went down to death with the
Titanic has been told over and over again. How John Jacob Astor kissed
his wife and saluted death as he looked squarely into its face; the
devotion of Mrs. Isidor Straus to her aged husband and the willingness
with which she went to her doom with his loving arms pressed tenderly
around her, the tales of life sacrificed that women might be saved
brought some need of comfort to the stricken.
G. A. Brayton, of Los Angeles, Cal, says: “John Jacob Astor went to
one of the officers and told them who he was, and asked to go in the
lifeboat with his wife. The officer told him he could not go in the
lifeboat. Astor then kissed his wife good-bye and she was put in the
lifeboat. Astor said: ‘I resign myself to my fate’ and saluted in
farewell.”
“Colonel Astor and Major Archibald Butt died together on the bridge
of the ill-fated ship,” said Dr. Washington Dodge, of San Francisco,
one of the survivors. “I saw them standing there side by side. I was
in one of the last boats, and I could not mistake them. Earlier during
the desperate struggle to get the boats cleared I had seen them both at
work quieting passengers and helping the officers maintain order.
“A few minutes before the last I saw Colonel Astor help his wife, who
appeared ill, into a boat, and I saw him wave his hand to her and smile
as the boat pulled away.”
Before the lifeboats left the ship, not far from the woman who would
not let her husband meet death alone, Colonel Astor stood supporting
the figure of his young bride, says another survivor. A boat was being
filled with women. Colonel Astor helped his wife to a place in it. The
boat was not filled, and there seemed no more women near it. Quietly
the Colonel turned to the second officer, who was superintending the
loading.
“May I go with my wife? She is ill,” he asked. The Officer nodded. The
man of millions got into the boat. The crew were about to cast off the
falls. Suddenly the Colonel sprang to his feet, shouting to them to
wait. He had seen a woman running toward the boat. Leaping over the
rail, he helped her to the place he had occupied.
TRIED TO CLIMB FROM THE BOAT.
Mrs. Astor screamed and tried to climb from the boat. The Colonel
restrained her. He bent and tenderly patted her shoulder.
“The ladies first, dear heart,” he was heard to say.
Then quietly he saluted the second officer and turned to help in
lowering more boats.
Miss Margaret Hayes gave another version of the manner in which Colonel
Astor met his death: “Colonel Astor, with his wife, came out on deck
as I was being assisted into a lifeboat,” said Miss Hayes, “and both
got into another boat. Colonel Astor had his arms about his wife and
assisted her into the boat. At the time there were no women waiting
to get into the boats, and the ship’s officer at that point invited
Colonel Astor to get into the boat with his wife. The Colonel, after
looking around and seeing no women, got into the boat, and his wife
threw her arms about him.
“The boat in which Colonel Astor and his wife were sitting was about to
be lowered when a woman came running out of the companionway. Raising
his hand, Colonel Astor stopped the preparations to lower his boat
and, stepping out, assisted the woman into the seat he had occupied.
“Mrs. Astor cried out, and wanted to get out of the boat with her
husband, but the Colonel patted her on the back and said something in a
low tone of voice.”
A nephew of Senator Clark, of Butte, Montana, said Astor stood by the
after rail looking after the lifeboats until the Titanic went down.
Brayton says: “Captain Smith stood on the bridge until he was washed
off by a wave. He swam back, stood on the bridge again and was there
when the Titanic went to the bottom.” Brayton says that Henry B.
Harris, the theatrical manager, “tried to get on a lifeboat with his
wife, but the second officer held him back with a gun. A third-class
passenger who tried to climb in the boats was shot and killed by a
steward. This was the only shooting on board I know of.”
Another account of Captain Smith’s death is as follows:
CAPTAIN SMITH DIED A HERO
Captain Smith died a hero’s death. He went to the bottom of the
ocean without effort to save himself. His last acts were to place a
five-year-old child on the last lifeboat in reach, then cast his life
belt to the ice ridden waters and resign to the fate that tradition
down the ages observed as a strict law.
It was left to a fireman of the Titanic to tell the tale of the death
of Captain Smith and the last message he left behind him. This man had
gone down with the vessel and was clinging to a piece of wreckage about
half an hour before he finally joined several members of the Titanic’s
company on the bottom of a boat which was floating among other wreckage.
Harry Senior, the fireman, with his eight or nine companions in
distress, had just managed to get a firm hold on the upturned boat,
when they saw the Titanic rearing preparatory to her final plunge. At
that moment, according to the fireman’s tale, Captain Smith jumped into
the sea from the promenade deck of the Titanic with an infant clutched
tenderly in his arms.
It only took a few strokes to bring him to the upturned lifeboat, where
a dozen hands were stretched out to take the little child from his arms
and drag him to safety.
“Captain Smith was dragged on the upturned boat,” said the fireman. “He
had on a life buoy and a life preserver. He clung there a moment and
then he slid off again. For a second time he was dragged from the icy
water. Then he took off his life preserver, tossed the life buoy on the
inky waters and slipped into the water again with the words; ‘I will
follow the ship.’”
At that time there was only a circle of troubled water and some
wreckage to show the spot where the biggest of all ocean steamers had
sunk out of sight.
“No,” said the stoker, as he waved a sandwich above his head, holding
a glass of beer in the other hand, “Captain Smith never shot himself.
I saw what he did. He went down with that ship. I’ll stake my life on
that.”
THE SAME STORY REPEATED.
Oddly enough, a Swedish stoker and survivor, named Oscar Ingstrom, at
another hotel in the same vicinity, gave to one of the most prominent
Swedish newspaper men in New York City practically the same tale that
Senior told.
Wilson Potter, whose mother, Mrs. Thomas Potter, Jr., of Mt. Airy, Pa.,
was one of the survivors, told how she had urged Colonel Astor and his
wife to leave the Titanic before the vessel went down.
“My mother was one of the first to leave the Titanic,” he said. “As the
lifeboats were filling up, she called to Colonel and Mrs. Astor to come
aboard. Mrs. Astor waved her off, exclaiming, ‘We are safer here than
in that little boat.’
“Hundreds of other passengers thought the same way. So much so, that
the first lifeboat, which my mother boarded, was large enough to hold
forty persons besides the crew; still only ten came along. All were of
the opinion that the Titanic would remain afloat until aid came from
another steamer.”
Mr. Potter also related another version of how J. B. Thayer, Jr., and
his mother were rescued.
“As the crash came Mrs. Thayer fainted. Young Mr. Thayer carried her to
one of the lifeboats. As she was lifted in father and son lost their
hold and fell between the sinking steamer and the lifeboat.
“After struggling in the water for several minutes Young Mr. Thayer
was picked up by a raft. Two hours later the raft was found by the
Carpathia.”
A third remarkable escape as related by Mr. Potter was that of Richard
Norris Williams.
“Mr. Williams remained on the stern of the Titanic,” said Mr. Potter.
“He says the stern of the boat went down, then came up. As it started
to go down a second time Mr. Williams says he dived off and swam to a
raft, which was picked up two hours later by the Carpathia.”
UTTERLY EXHAUSTED FROM HER EXPERIENCE.
When utterly exhausted from her experience, Mrs. John Jacob Astor was
declared by Nicholas Biddle, a trustee of the Astor estate, to be in
no danger whatever. Her physicians, however, have given orders that
neither Mrs. Astor nor her maid, who was saved with her, be permitted
to talk about the disaster.
On landing from the Carpathia, the young bride, widowed by the
Titanic’s sinking, told members of her family what she could recall of
the circumstances of the disaster. Of how Colonel Astor met his death,
she has no definite conception. She recalled, she thought, that in
the confusion, as she was about to be put into one of the boats, the
Colonel was standing by her side. After that, as Mr. Biddle recounted
her narrative, she had no very clear recollection of the happenings
until the boats were well clear of the sinking steamer.
Mrs. Astor, it appears, left in one of the last boats which got away
from the ship. It was her belief that all the women who wished to go
had been taken off. Her impression was that the boat she left in had
room for at least fifteen more persons.
The men, for some reason, which, as she recalled it, she could not and
does not now understand, did not seem to be at all anxious to leave the
ship. Almost every one seemed dazed.
“I hope he is alive somewhere. Yes, I cannot think anything else,” the
young woman said of her husband to her father as she left the latter
to go to the Astor home, according to some who overheard her parting
remarks.
The chief steerage steward of the Titanic, who came in on the
Carpathia, says that he saw John Jacob Astor standing by the life
ladder as the passengers were being embarked. His wife was beside him,
the steward said. The Colonel left her to go to the purser’s office for
a moment, and that was the last he saw of him.
WRITER GOES DOWN WITH THE SHIP.
Mrs. May Futrelle, whose husband, Jacques Futrelle, the writer, went
down with the ship, was met here by her daughter, Miss Virginia
Futrelle, who was brought to New York from the Convent of Notre Dame in
Baltimore.
Miss Futrelle had been told that her father had been picked up by
another steamer. Mrs. Charles Copeland, of Boston, a sister of the
writer, who also met Mrs. Futrelle, was under the same impression.
“I am so happy that father is safe, too,” declared Miss Futrelle,
as her mother clasped her in her arms. It was some time before Mrs.
Futrelle could compose herself.
“Where is Jack?” Miss Copeland asked.
Mrs. Futrelle, afraid to let her daughter know the truth, said: “Oh! he
is on another ship.”
Mrs. Copeland guessed the truth and became hysterical. Then the
writer’s daughter broke down.
“Jack died like a hero,” Mrs. Futrelle said, when the party became
composed. “He was in the smoking-room when the crash came--the noise of
the smash was terrific--and I was going to bed. I was hurled from my
feet by the impact. I hardly found myself when Jack came rushing into
the stateroom.
“The boat is going down, get dressed at once!” he shouted. When
we reached the deck everything was in the wildest confusion. The
screams of women and the shrill orders of the officers were drowned
intermittently by the tremendous vibrations of the Titanic’s bass
foghorn.
“The behavior of the men was magnificent. They stood back without
murmuring and urged the women and children into the lifeboats. A few
cowards tried to scramble into the boats, but they were quickly thrown
back by the others. Let me say now that the only men who were saved
were those who sneaked into the lifeboats or were picked up after the
Titanic sank.
“I did not want to leave Jack, but he assured me that there were boats
enough for all and that he would be rescued later.
LIFTED INTO A LIFE-BOAT AND KISSED.
“Hurry up, May, you’re keeping the others waiting,” were his last
words, as he lifted me into a lifeboat and kissed me good-bye. I was in
one of the last lifeboats to leave the ship. We had not put out many
minutes when the Titanic disappeared. I almost thought, as I saw her
sink beneath the water, that I could see Jack, standing where I had
left him and waving at me.”
Mrs. Futrelle said she saw the parting of Colonel John Jacob Astor and
his young bride. Mrs. Astor was frantic. Her husband had to jump into
the lifeboat four times and tell her that he would be rescued later.
After the fourth time, Mrs. Futrelle said, he jumped back on the deck
of the sinking ship and the lifeboat bearing his bride made off.
George D. Widener and his son, Harry Elkins Widener, lost in the wreck
of the Titanic, died the death of heroes. They stood back that the
weaker might have a chance of being saved.
Mrs. Widener, one of the last women to leave the ship, fought to die
with her husband and her son. She would have succeeded probably had
not sailors literally torn her from her husband and forced her on to a
life-raft.
As she descended the ladder at the ship’s side, compelled to leave
despite her frantic, despairing pleas, she called to Mr. Widener and to
her son pitifully:
“Oh, my God!” she cried. “Good-bye! George! Harry! Good-bye! Good-bye!
Oh, God! this is awful!” And that was the last she saw of her husband
and of her son, who waved a brave farewell as she disappeared down the
ladder.
Mr. Widener, according to James B. McGough, 708 West York street,
Philadelphia, a buyer for the Gimbel store, one of those rescued, was
as calm and collected, except at the time of the final parting from his
wife, as though he were “taking a walk on Broad street.”
HELPED WOMEN AND CHILDREN.
The financier’s son, too, was calm. The two men helped the women and
the children to make their escape, but always stood back themselves
when a boat or raft was launched. As soon as the vessel had struck the
iceberg Mr. and Mrs. Widener had sought out Captain Smith.
“What is the outlook?” Mr. Widener was heard to inquire.
“It is extremely serious,” was the quick reply. “Please keep cool and
do what you can to help us.” And this is what Mr. Widener did.
Mr. McGough, when he returned to his home, contributed to the several
versions of the escape of John B. Thayer, Jr., son of John B. Thayer,
second Vice president of the Pennsylvania Railroad, who was lost. One
version was that the boy jumped from the Titanic just as she sank, and
that he swam about among big cakes of ice until taken aboard a lifeboat.
Mr. McGough in his account of the lad’s rescue says the boy jumped as
the vessel sank, but that he alighted near a life-raft, to which, half
frozen, he clung until taken aboard a boat.
Another statement by Mr. McGough was that when a man, presumably an
Associated Press correspondent, boarded the Carpathia off Cape Cod,
and tried to wireless a message ashore a ship officer seized it and
threw it into the ocean.
Several weeks ago Mr. McGough was sent abroad on a purchasing trip
for his firm. With him were J. D. Flynn, of New York, formerly of
Philadelphia, and N. P. Calderhead, also a former Philadelphian.
When the gang plank was thrown down from the Carpathia, Mr. McGough
was the first passenger from the ill-starred Titanic to land, waiting
for him were his wife, Mrs. Mary McGough, and his three brothers,
Philip A., Thomas and Andrew McGough, all of 252 South Seventh street,
Philadelphia. His wife saw him first. Stretching out her arms, she
threw herself from the police lines toward him, and in a moment he had
her clasped in his embrace.
SENDS A MESSAGE TO HIS MOTHER.
Afterward he rushed through the crowd and took a motor car to the home
of a relative. Thence he went to the Imperial Hotel. From the hotel he
sent a message to his mother at 252 South Seventh street.
“I am here, safe,” the message read.
“The collision which caused the loss of the Titanic,” Mr. McGough said,
“occurred about 11.40 o’clock. I had an outer state-room on the side
toward the iceberg against which the ship crashed. Flynn who occupied
the room with me, had just gone to bed. Calderhead was in bed in a
stateroom adjoining.
“When the crash came, I ran to the porthole. I saw the ice pressed
close against the side of the ship. Chunks of it were ground off, and
they fell into the window. I happened to glance at my watch, and it
showed me exactly the hour.
“I knew that something was seriously wrong, and hastily got into my
clothes. I took time, also, to get my watch and money. Flynn, in the
meantime, had run over to Calderhead’s stateroom and had awakened him.
When I had dressed I ran outside.
“I saw the iceberg. The boat deck stood about ninety feet out of the
water and the berg towered above us for at least fifty feet. I judge
the berg stood between 140 and 150 feet out of the water.
“Many of the women on board, I am sure, did not leave their staterooms
at once. They stayed there, at least for a time. I believe that many of
them did not awaken to their danger until near the last.
“One statement I want to correct, the lights did not go out, at least
not while I was on board. When I ran to the deck I heard Captain Smith
order that the air chambers be examined. An effort was made to work the
doors closing the compartments, but to no avail. When the ship ran upon
the iceberg, the sharp-pointed berg cut through both thicknesses of the
bottom and left it in such a position that it filled rapidly.
MIGHT HAVE PERISHED.
“I remember that it was a beautiful night. There was no wind and the
sea was calm. But for this it is certain that when the boats were
launched most all of us would have perished in the ice-covered sea. At
first the captain ordered the hatches over the steerage fastened down.
This was to prevent the hysterical passengers in that part of the ship
rushing to the deck and increasing the panic. Before we left, however,
those passengers were released.
“Two sailors were put into each of the boats. When the boats were
lowered the women hung back. They feared to go down the long, steep
ladder to the water. Seeing them hesitate, I cried: ‘Someone has to be
first,’ and started down the ladder.
“I had hardly started before I regretted I had not waited on deck. But
I feel if I had not led the way the women would not have started and
the death list would have been much larger. Flynn and Calderhead led
the way into other boats.
“It was only a short time before the boat was filled. We had fifty-five
in our boat, nearly all of them women. We had entered the craft so
hastily that we did not take time to get a light.
“For a time we bobbed about on the ocean. Then we started to row
slowly away. I shall never forget the screams that flowed over the
ocean toward us from the sinking ship. At the end there was a mad rush
and scramble.
“It was fearfully hard on the women. Few of them were completely
dressed. Some wore only their night gowns, with some light wrapper or
kimono over them. The air was pitilessly cold.
“There were so few men in the boat the women had to row. This was good
for some of them, as it kept their blood in circulation, but even then
it was the most severe experience for them imaginable. Some of them
were half-crazed with grief or terror. Several became ill from the
exposure.
“I saw Mr. Widener just before I left, and afterward, while we were
rowing away from the vessel I had a good glimpse of him. He appeared as
calm and collected as though he were taking a walk on Broad st. When
the rush for the boats began he and his son Harry, stood back.
SHIP GOES DOWN AT 2.30 O’CLOCK.
“At the end sailors had to tear Mrs. Widener from him, and she went
down the ladder, calling to him pitifully. The ship went down at 2.20
o’clock exactly. The front end went down gradually. We saw no men shot,
but just before the finish we heard several shots.
“I was told that Captain Smith or one of the officers shot himself
on the bridge just before the Titanic went under. I heard also that
several men had been killed as they made a final rush for the boats,
trying to cut off the women and children.
“While we were floating around the sailors set off some redfire, which
illuminated the ocean for miles around. This was a signal of distress.
Unfortunately there was no one near enough to answer in time.
“John B. Thayer, Jr., was saved after he had gone down with the ship.
Just as the vessel took the plunge he leaped over the side. He struck
out for a life raft and reached it. There he clung for several hours
until, half-frozen, he was taken into one of the boats which was a
trifle less crowded than the others.
“For six hours we bobbed around in the ocean. We rowed over to a boat
that was provided with a light, and tied the two small craft together.
Finally daylight came, and the sun rose in a clear sky. There we were,
a little fleet, alone in the limitless ocean, with the ice cakes
tossing about on all sides.
“It was after 8 o’clock in the morning when we saw the masts of a
steamship coming up over the horizon. It was the most blessed sight our
eyes ever saw. It meant an end to the physical suffering, a relief to
the strain under which we had been laboring. Many broke down when they
saw it.
“The ship, of course, was the Carpathia. While it was hurrying toward
us the crew and passengers had made the most generous preparations for
us. When they took us on board they had blankets, clothing, food and
warm liquids all ready. Their physicians were ready to care for the
sick. The passengers gave up their warm beds to us.
BUMPED INTO FLOATING BODIES.
“During the time we were in the water we bumped frequently into the
bodies that floated about us. A great many of the men jumped into the
water before the boat sank, and they were their bodies that we struck.”
D. H. Bishop, a rich lumber man of Dowagaic, Mich., who with his wife,
was returning from a bridal trip to Egypt, is the last person known to
have seen George D. Widener alive. Mr. Bishop said:
“My wife and I had just retired when we heard the jar and felt a
decided tilt of the ship. I got up and started to investigate, but soon
became reassured and went back to bed. A few minutes later we heard
calls to put on life belts.
“My wife felt very alarmed and kneeled to pray. She said she knew we
would be lost, though at that time there was no reason to think so, and
she remarked: ‘What is the use bothering with jewelry if we are going
to die?’ Accordingly she left in her stateroom jewelry worth about
$11,000, but strangely enough insisted upon me running back and getting
her muff.
“As we came up the stairway we met Captain Smith and Colonel John Jacob
Astor talking hurriedly. What they said I do not know. When we got on
deck there were not more than fifty people there and no one seemed
excited and no one appeared to want to get into the lifeboats, though
urged to do so. Mrs. Bishop and I were literally lifted into the first
lifeboat.
“At that time I observed Mr. and Mrs. Widener, and I saw the former
leave his wife as she was getting into the lifeboat and, accompanied
by his son, go toward the stairway. I did not see them again, as our
lifeboat with only twenty-eight persons in it and only half-manned, was
lowered over the side at that moment. An instant later there was an
apparent rush for the lifeboats and as we rowed away they came over the
side with great rapidity.
“Before we were a hundred yards away men were jumping overboard, and
when we were a mile away the ship went down with cries from the men and
women aboard that were heart-rending.
“There is nothing to say concerning the blame, except that I do know
that icebergs were known to be in our vicinity and that it was the
subject of much talk that the Titanic was out for a record. Captain
Smith was dining with J. Bruce Ismay, managing director of the White
Star Line, and of course was not on the bridge. It was rumored on the
Carpathia that Captain Smith tried to save himself in a lifeboat at the
last minute, but of this I know nothing.
CHAPTER X.
NOTABLE WOMAN SAVED.
Praises Captain and Crew--Bids President of Grand Trunk Railway
Good-bye--In Water for Six Hours--Saved by Cake of Ice--Boats not
Filled, she says--Millionaire Died to Save Wife’s Maid--Heroic
Sacrifice of Railroad Official.
From William E. Carter, Bryn Mawr, Pa., who, with his wife and two
children, Lucille and William E. Carter, Jr., was saved from the wreck
of the Titanic, it was learned today that the three women probably most
notable among the survivors were in the same lifeboat. They were Mrs.
John Jacob Astor, Mrs. George D. Widener and Mrs. John B. Thayer. In
the same boat were Mrs. Carter and her two children.
Colonel Astor, Mr. Thayer, Mr. Widener and Mr. Carter separated as soon
as the ladies were safely in the lifeboats, and Mr. Carter never saw
the three men again.
Mr. Carter was a passenger on the lifeboat in which J. Bruce Ismay,
managing director of the White Star Line, made his escape from the
sinking liner. Mr. Carter declared that the boat was the last to leave
the starboard side of the Titanic and was nearly the last which left
the vessel.
When entered by Mr. Carter and Mr. Ismay the boat was occupied entirely
by women of the third cabin. Every woman on the starboard side of the
vessel had been sent off in lifeboats when Mr. Ismay and he got into
the boat, Mr. Carter said.
Mr. Carter and his family were staying for a few days at the home
of his brother-in-law, William C. Dickerman, 809 Madison ave., New
York. Mr. Carter expressed the greatest admiration for the discipline
maintained by the officers of the Titanic, and voiced the opinion that
Mr. Ismay should not be held open to criticism.
“If there had been another woman to go, neither Mr. Ismay nor myself
would have gotten into the boat. There can be no criticism of Mr.
Ismay’s action.”
In describing his experience Mr. Carter said he had urged Harry Elkins
Widener to go with him to the starboard side of the vessel. Young Mr.
Widener, thinking that there was no immediate danger, remarked that he
would take his chances on the vessel.
Mr. Carter said he was in the smoking room of the Titanic when the
crash came. “I was talking to Major Butt, Clarence Moore and Harry
Widener,” he explained. “It was just seventeen minutes to 12 o’clock.
“Although there was quite a jar, I thought the trouble was slight.
I believe it was the immense size of the Titanic which brought many
of the passengers to believe there was no danger. I went on deck to
see what had happened. Almost as I reached the deck the engines were
stopped.
VESSEL LISTS TO PORT.
“I hurried down to see about my family and found they were all in bed.
Just then the vessel listed a little to port, and I told my wife and
children they had better get up and dress.
“Just then orders were issued for everyone to get on life preservers.
When we came out on the deck boats were being lowered. Mrs. Carter and
the children got into the fourth or fifth boat with Mrs. Astor, Mrs.
Widener and Mrs. Thayer.
“After I got my family into the boat and saw it pushed off the Titanic
listed more and more to one side. I decided that I had better look out
for myself and went up to a deck on the starboard side. In the meantime
a good many boats were getting off.
“There were no women on the starboard side when I reached there except
one collapsible raft load of third-class women passengers. Mr. Ismay
and myself got into the boat, which was either the last or the next to
the last to leave the Titanic.
“As we left the ship the lights went out and the Titanic started to go
down. The crash had ripped up the side and the water rushing into the
boiler-room caused the boilers to explode.
“We were a good distance off when we saw the Titanic dip and disappear.
We stayed in the boat until about 5 o’clock, Mr. Ismay and myself
pulling on the oars with three members of the crew practically all the
time.
“Never in my life have I seen such splendid discipline as was
maintained by Captain Smith and his men. There was no panic and the
order was splendid.
“Before I left Harry Widener I urged him to come with me to the
starboard side of the ship, and it was then he told me he would take
his chances on the vessel. He had on a life belt, as did every other
passenger, many of whom stayed in the smoking room playing bridge.
MR. WIDENER PARTED FROM HIS WIFE.
“I saw Colonel Astor place his wife in the same boat that I put my
family in, and at the same time Mr. Widener parted from his wife and
Mr. Thayer put Mrs. Thayer in the boat. I did not see the men again.”
Major Arthur Puechen, a wealthy resident of Toronto, Canada, was the
last man on the Titanic to say good-bye to Charles M. Hays, president
of the Grand Trunk Pacific Railway, who lost his life.
After assisting members of the crew in filling up the first five
boats, Major Puechen who is an experienced yachtsman, was assigned by
the second mate to take charge of boat No. 6. Major Puechen said he
declined to accept such a post, not desiring to have any preference
over any of his fellow passengers.
Captain Smith, wishing an experienced boatsman on boat No. 6, directed
the second officer to give the Major a written order to take charge
of it. Major Puechen displayed this order to some of his friends last
night, so as to make it plain that it was at the demand of the ship’s
officers that he undertook the assignment.
Just as the Major was about to leave in the lifeboat, his old friend,
Charles M. Hays, of the Grand Trunk, came up and said good-bye. Mr.
Hays had no idea, according to Major Puechen that the ship would sink
as soon as it did, but believed that help would be at hand sufficient
to care for all before the vessel went down.
Mr. Hays remarked to the Major that the ship could not possibly sink
within eight hours, and that long before then every body would be
taken off safely. Mr. Hays expressed no fear that he would be lost by
remaining on board the ship.
Peter D. Daly, of New York, jumped from the deck of the Titanic after
it was announced that there were only boats enough for the women and
children. As he saw the ship settling gradually he swam away with all
his might to prevent being carried down with the suction of the sinking
liner.
PICKED UP BY CARPATHIA.
“For six hours I beat the water with hands and feet to keep warm,” he
said. “Then I was picked up by one of the Carpathia’s boats, which was
cruising around looking for survivors. I was numb from the cold, after
a fight which I can scarcely bear to discuss.
“Even after I recovered from the chill and shock, I was practically
prostrated by the nervous strain, and every mention of the disaster
sends a shiver through me.
“There was no violent impact when the vessel collided with the ice.
I rushed to the deck from my cabin, got a life preserver and, when
things began to look serious, threw myself into the water. The boat had
already begun to settle.”
A huge cake of ice was the means of aiding Emile Portaluppi, of
Aricgabo, Italy, in escaping death when the Titanic went down.
Portaluppi, a second class passenger, was awakened by the explosion
of one of the boilers of the ship. He hurried to the deck, strapped a
life preserver around him and leaped into the sea. With the aid of the
preserver and by holding to a cake of ice he managed to keep afloat
until one of the lifeboats picked him up. There were thirty-five
people in the boat when he was hauled aboard.
Mrs. Lucine P. Smith, of Huntington, W. Va., daughter of Representative
James P. Hughes, of West Virginia, a bride of about eight weeks, whose
husband was lost in the wreck, gave her experience through the medium
of her uncle, Dr. J. H. Vincent, of Huntington, West Virginia.
“The women were shoved into the lifeboats,” said Dr. Vincent. “The crew
did not wait until the lifeboat was filled before they lowered it. As
a matter of fact there were but twenty-six people in the boat, mostly
all women, when an officer gave instructions to lower it. Mr. Smith
was standing alongside the boat when it was lowered. There was plenty
of room for more people to get into the lifeboats, the capacity being
fifty.
APPEALS TO CAPTAIN WERE IGNORED.
“Mrs. Smith implored Captain Smith to allow her husband in the boat,
but her repeated appeals, however, were ignored. This lifeboat was
permitted to be lowered with but one sailor in it and he was drunk. His
condition was such that he could not row the boat and therefore the
women had to do the best they could in rowing about the icy waters.
“As the boat swung out from the side it was evident that the three
men knew absolutely nothing about rowing and Mrs. Kenyon said she and
another woman seized the oars and helped the sailors to pull clear.
Gradually the small boat was worked away from the Titanic. The boat had
gone quite a distance when suddenly all heard a terrific explosion and
in the glare which followed they saw the body of a man hurled from the
bridge high in the air. Then darkness fell. At 6.30 the boat was picked
up by the Carpathia.”
Mrs. Elizabeth Dyker, of Westhaven, Conn., a bride whose husband
perished, lost besides her husband all her worldly possessions.
“When the crash came,” said Mrs. Dyker, “I met Adolph on deck. He had a
satchel in which were two gold watches, two diamond rings, a sapphire
necklace and two hundred crowns. He couldn’t go in the boat with me
but grabbed a life preserver and said he would try to save himself.
That was the last I saw of him. When the lifeboat came alongside the
Carpathia one of the men in it threw my satchel to the deck. I have not
seen it since.”
Kate Mullin, of County Longford, Ireland, told of how stewards had
tried to keep back the steerage women. She said she saw scores of men
and women jump overboard and drown.
Bunar Tonglin, a Swede, was saved in the next to the last boat which
left the Titanic. Before getting into the boat he placed two hysterical
women in another boat. Then he heard a cry, and, looking up, saw a
woman standing on the upper deck. The woman, he said, dropped from her
arms her baby, which Tonglin caught, and gave to one of the women he
had put in the boat. Then he got into his own boat, which was lowered,
and shortly afterwards came the two explosions, and the plunge downward
of the Titanic. Tonglin declared that he had seen numerous persons leap
from the decks of the Titanic and drown.
HELPS HIS WIFE TO A PLACE IN THE BOAT.
Mrs. Fred R. Kenyon, of Southington, Conn., was one of the Titanic’s
survivors. Her husband went down with the vessel rather than take the
place of a woman in a boat. Mrs. Kenyon said that when the call was
given for the women to take places near the boat davits, in readiness
to be placed in the boats as they were swung off, Mr. Kenyon was by her
side. When it came her turn to enter the boat, Mr. Kenyon helped his
wife to a place and kissed her good-bye. Mrs. Kenyon said she asked him
to come with her, and he replied: “I would not with all those women and
children waiting to get off.”
In an instant Mr. Kenyon had stepped back and other women took their
places and the boat swung clear and dropped to the water. In the boat
Mrs. Kenyon said there were one sailor and three men who had been
ordered in because they said they could row.
Mrs. John B. Thayer, whose husband, the second vice-president of the
Pennsylvania Railroad, went down with the Titanic, after heroically
standing aside to allow his wife’s maid to take his place in the
lifeboat, and whose young son, John B. Thayer, Jr., was pulled aboard a
lifeboat after being thrown from the giant liner just before she sank,
seemed too dazed by what she had gone through to realize the awful
enormity of the tragedy when she reached her home at Haverford, Pa.
After reaching the Thayer home Mrs. Thayer was put to bed and the
greatest precautions were taken to see that neither she nor young
“Jack” Thayer was disturbed. Detectives from the Pennsylvania Railroad,
assisted by two members of the Lower Merion police force, guarded the
house both front and rear. All callers were told that both Mrs. Thayer
and her son were too much overcome by their heart-breaking experience
to see any one.
DIED TO SAVE WIFE’S MAID.
Mrs. Thayer, young John B. Thayer, junior no longer, Miss Eustis,
a sister of Mrs. Walter B. Stephenson, of Haverford, and Margaret
Fleming, Mrs. Thayer’s maid, for whose safety Mr. Thayer sacrificed
his own life, all arrived at the Haverford Station at 12.30 o’clock.
They had made the trip from Jersey City in a special train consisting
of an engine, baggage car and Pullman, with two day coaches to add the
necessary weight to make the train ride easily. The special left the
Pennsylvania Station at 10.16 and drew up at the Haverford Station just
two hours and fourteen minutes later.
Harry C. Thayer, of Merion, a brother of Mr. Thayer, met his
sister-in-law and nephew at the New York pier where the Carpathia
docked, together with Dr. R. G. Gamble, of Haverford, the Thayers’
family physician. Mrs. Thayer, though seemingly composed, is really
in a very serious condition, according to Dr. Gamble. Her hours of
exposure in an open boat, her uncertainty as to the fate of her son,
whom she saw jump overboard, just before the Titanic sank, carrying her
husband to a watery grave, was more than any woman could be expected to
bear.
Eight or ten friends and relatives of the Thayer family, together with
Captain Donaghy, of the Lower Merion police department, and a squad of
his men, were awaiting the special train at the Haverford Station. A
big limousine automobile was also on hand with the motor running, ready
to whisk the party to the Thayer home, “Redwood,” just back of the
Merion Cricket Club.
As the train slowed up, the relatives and friends formed a double line
opposite the Pullman car. The moment the train stopped, Mrs. Thayer
was helped down the steps and to the automobile. Wearing heavy brown
furs, a dark hat with a half veil, Mrs. Thayer looked dazed and walked
as one asleep, as she was assisted into the motor car. Her son, young
“Jack” Thayer, was at her side, with Miss Eustis and the maid, Margaret
Fleming, bringing up the rear. The boy, a husky youngster, looked
little the worse for his experiences and bore himself in manly fashion.
TOO OVERCOME TO BE QUESTIONED.
There was a clang of the motor car door, a crashing bang as the gears
were shoved into place and the machine was off at top speed for the
Thayer residence. Dr. Gamble, whose car was also in waiting, acted
as spokesman for all. Mrs. Thayer, he said, was too overcome to be
questioned, but he had gleaned from young “Jack” Thayer and from
Margaret Fleming, the maid, a few details that brought out in vivid
relief the quiet heroism of Mr. Thayer.
The son, also had proven, himself in the critical moment. Shortly after
the Titanic crashed into the iceberg, said the doctor, Mr. Thayer had
collected his wife, his son and his wife’s maid and gotten them in line
for a lifeboat. Realizing that there was not enough room for the men,
Mr. Thayer forced his wife and her maid into the boat and then tried to
get his son in also.
The lad, however, refused to desert his father. Stepping back, he made
room for some one else, said to have been a grown man, and grasping
his father’s hand, said he “guessed he would stick by dad.” Before Mr.
Thayer could protest or forcibly place his son in the lifeboat, it had
been launched and the opportunity was gone.
A few seconds before the Titanic sank, however, Mr. Thayer seemed to
grasp the fact that the end was near. Picking up the boy he threw him
into the sea. “Swim to a boat, my boy,” he said.
Young Thayer, taken by surprise, had no chance to object. Before he
knew what had happened, he was struggling in the icy waters of the
ocean. Striking out, the lad swam to a lifeboat, said Mr. Gamble,
but was beaten off by some of those aboard, as the boat was already
overcrowded.
But the pluck that has made so many Thayers famous as athletes in
many branches of sport was deeply implanted in young “Jack” Thayer.
Turning from the lifeboat from which he had been beaten off, he swam to
another. Once again he was fended away with a long oar. And all this
time Mrs. Thayer, safe in another boat, watched her son struggle for
life, too overcome with horror to even scream.
NOT AS MUCH SUCTION AS EXPECTED.
A few seconds later the Titanic went down. There was a swirling of
the waters, though not as much suction as had been expected. To save
himself from the tug of the indraw waters, young Thayer grasped a
floating cake of ice. To this he clung until another boat, filled with
people of more kindly hearts, came by and pulled him aboard.
In this boat was Miss Brown, a friend of the boy’s mother. She took
charge of him until they were taken on board the Carpathia. Mrs. Thayer
had not seen the rescue of her son. She had fainted, it is said, but
revived a few moments later and did yeoman service at the oars. Other
survivors in her boat spoke in the highest terms of her calm courage,
which served to keep up the spirits of the women, half frozen from
the bitter cold, insufficiently clad and bereft of their loved ones.
Taking an oar, without waiting to be asked, she used every ounce of
her strength for long hours before the Carpathia arrived, aiding the
few sailors aboard to keep the boat’s head to the sea and to dodge the
myriads of ice cakes.
The exercise, however, served to keep her warm, and when she was lifted
to the deck of the Carpathia she did not need hospital treatment.
Her son, however, was in bad shape when he was rescued. His clothing
was frozen to his body and he was exhausted from his battle with the
ice-filled sea. Restoratives and hot water bottles in the Carpathia’s
hospital brought him around in time, however, and the moment he was
able to stand on his feet he rushed through the ship, seeking his
mother. That was a joyful reunion for both, but particularly for Mrs.
Thayer, as she had given her son up for lost.
STAYED ON BOARD UNTIL SHE SANK.
Broken in spirits, bowed with grief, Mrs. Thayer stepped off the
Carpathia at New York with the other few hundreds of survivors last
night. With her was her young son, John B. Thayer, Jr., who stayed on
board the vessel until she sank to share his father’s fate, but who
proved more fortunate than the railroad magnate, and was saved. She
was heavily veiled and was supported by the son, who seemed, with his
experience, to have aged twice his sixteen years.
Awaiting her arrival was a special train, sent by officers of the
Pennsylvania Railroad for her arrival. One of the cars was that in
which she and Mr. Thayer frequently had taken trips together. It was
in this car that she rode to Philadelphia, the last time she ever will
enter it.
Every arrangement had been made for the care and comfort of Mrs.
Thayer. Immediately upon her arrival at the pier where the rescue ship,
Carpathia, docked, relatives and representatives of the railroad were
ready to receive her.
A motor car had been held in readiness and when she disembarked from
the vessel, leaning upon the arm of her young son, she was led silently
to it. They were the first of the Philadelphia survivors to arrive at
the Pennsylvania station. It was exactly 10 o’clock when the car in
which she and her son had ridden, pulled up outside the great building
erected when her husband was one of the directing heads of the road.
With her was Dr. Neidermeier, the station physician, who had been sent
to take care of her during the short time she stayed in New York.
Tenderly he lifted Mrs. Thayer to the pavement and then led her inside
and across the central floor toward the train.
Garments had been brought from her home for Mrs. Thayer, to take the
place of those which she had worn when, scantily clad, she bade her
husband good-bye and climbed down the ladder of the Titanic to the
waiting lifeboats. But the widow was too worn physically and too
greatly bowed down with grief to make the change. She wore a thin
raincoat which reached nearly to the ground. Its folds were wrinkled. A
heavy veil completely covered her head, crushing down her hat.
MET AT THE CUNARD PIER.
Following her from the cab came her son and Henry Thayer, a brother
of the former railroad man. Dr. Gamble, the family physician, and Mr.
Norris, a relative of Mrs. Thayer, were also in the party which had met
her at the Cunard pier.
As the widow of their former chief passed them, the employes of the
railroad stopped and removed their hats. T. DeWitt Cuyler, a director
of the Pennsylvania Railroad, saw her coming and stepped toward her. As
he did so, Dr. Neidermeier quickly grasped his arm and drew him to one
side where Mrs. Thayer would not hear.
“Mr. Thayer is dead,” the physician whispered silently. Mr. Cuyler
gripped the doctor’s hand and then, his face working violently, he
turned quickly away.
It was only a few minutes after Mrs. Thayer had stepped on board the
car that the train started for Philadelphia. It left the station at
10.19 o’clock.
“I was with father,” said “Jack” Thayer, speaking for himself of his
experience. “They wanted me to go into a boat, but I wanted to stay
with him. Men and women kept calling to me to hurry and jump in a boat,
but it wasn’t any use. I knew what I was doing. It didn’t seem to be
anything to be afraid about. Some of the men were laughing. Nobody
appeared to be excited. We had struck with a smash and then we seemed
to slide off backwards from the big field of ice. It was cold, but we
didn’t mind that.
“The boats were put off without much fuss. Mother was put into one
of the boats. As I said, she wanted me to go with her. But I said I
guessed I would stick with dad. After awhile I felt the ship tipping
toward the front. The next thing I knew somebody gave me a push and I
was in the water. Down, down, down, I went, ever so far. It seemed as
if I never would stop. I couldn’t breathe. Then I shot up through the
water just as fast as I went down. I had just time to take a long, deep
breath when a wave went over me.
“When I came to the surface a second time I swam to a boat. They
wouldn’t take me in. Then I tried another. Same result. Finally, when
I was growing weak, I bumped against something. I found it was an
overturned lifeboat. It was a struggle to pull myself upon it, but I
did it after a while. My, it was cold! I never suffered so much in my
life. All around were the icebergs.
“I could see boats on all sides. I must have shouted, because my throat
was all raw and sore, but nobody seemed to notice. I guess they all
were shouting, too. Every part of me ached with the cold. I thought I
was going to die. It seemed as if I couldn’t stand it any longer.
“The time was so long and I was so weak. Then I just couldn’t feel
anything any more. I knew if I stayed there I would freeze. A boat came
by and I swam to it. They took me aboard. The next thing I remember
clearly was when the boat from the Carpathia came and I was taken into
it and wrapped up in the coats of the men. They told me I was more than
three hours on that raft and in that open boat. It seemed more like
three years to me.”
CHAPTER XI.
MAJOR BUTT, MARTYR TO DUTY.
Major Butt Martyr to Duty--Woman’s Soul-Stirring Tribute--Died Like
a Soldier--Was the Man of the Hour--Assisted Captain and Officers in
Saving Women--Cool as if on Dress Parade--Robert M. Daniel Tells of
Disaster and Death of Heroes--Tiny Waifs of the Sea.
Captain E. J. Smith, the commander of the Titanic, was a guest at a
banquet which was being given by W. Bruce Ismay, managing director
of the White Star Line, when the big steamer plunged into that fated
iceberg, according to Robert M. Daniel, member of the banking firm of
Hillard-Smith, Daniel & Co., 328 Chestnut street, Philadelphia.
The fourth officer was in charge of the vessel, said Mr. Daniel,
when seen at the Waldorf-Astoria in New York, to which hotel he went
immediately after landing from the Carpathia, accompanied by his mother
and younger brother, who had come up from their home in Virginia to
meet him.
“We were about fifty miles ahead of our schedule at the time the
accident happened,” said Mr. Daniel, “and were running at about a
twenty-mile-an-hour rate. Everybody on board had been talking all along
about how we were trying to beat the Olympic’s record for the Western
trip and many pools were made on each day’s run.
“I was asleep in my berth when the collision came and so cannot
tell how we happened to hit that berg or what occurred immediately
afterwards. I got up and looked out of my stateroom door, but all
seemed to be quiet and I went back to bed again.
“A little later I heard some one crying that the boats were being
manned and I got frightened. So I wrapped an overcoat about me and
went on deck. On the way I grabbed a life belt and tied it on.
“The boat had already sunk so far down that the lower decks were awash.
I didn’t waste any time in thinking. I just jumped overboard. I clung
to the same overturned lifeboat that young John B. Thayer, Jr., swam to
later and saw him jump from the Titanic. It looked to me as though his
father pushed him off and jumped after him, but the boat sank so soon
afterwards and things were so mixed up that I couldn’t be sure about
that.
“A boat came by after a while that was full of women. They were
frightened and seeing me, pulled me aboard, saying they needed a man to
take charge. I did my best to cheer them up, but it was a poor effort
and didn’t succeed very well. Still I kept them busy with one thing and
another and so helped pass the weary hours until we were picked up by
the Carpathia.”
JUMPED AS THE LINER WAS GOING DOWN.
Mr. Daniel stated with emphasis that Colonel John Jacob Astor stayed on
the Titanic until the last second, then jumped just as the liner was
going down, and he did not see the millionaire again.
Captain Smith also stuck to the bridge, until the ship sank, said Mr.
Daniel, when the skipper also jumped, but disappeared below the waves
and apparently never came up again.
“I spoke to the fourth officer just before I went to my cabin,” said
Mr. Daniel, “and he told me he was in charge while the captain was at
dinner. Then I remembered I had heard Ismay was giving a banquet.
“The fourth officer said the skipper was coming up ‘pretty soon’ to
relieve him,” added Mr. Daniel.
On the Carpathia, Mr. Daniel said, were nineteen women who had been
made widows by the Titanic disaster. Six of them were young brides who
were returning on the steamship from honeymoon trips on the Continent.
None of them, he said, was able to obtain from the passengers of the
Carpathia mourning garb.
While on the Carpathia Mr. Daniel proved of considerable assistance to
the wireless operator. He is an amateur student of wireless telegraphy.
Following the disaster the operator on the Carpathia was compelled to
work night and day.
While the operator was engaged in the arduous task of sending to shore
the long list of those who had been snatched from the sea, Mr. Daniel
went into the operating room. He found the operator on the verge of
collapse, and, volunteering his services, sent a large part of the list
himself.
Mr. Daniel denied that all the lifeboats and collapsible rafts launched
from the Titanic had been picked up by the Carpathia.
“Only twelve boats were picked up,” he said, “while there were half a
dozen more that drifted away in other directions. There has been no
storm, and I don’t see why they should not have been located by some
other vessel.”
“FRANKFURT” MUCH NEARER THAN CARPATHIA.
A German steamer, the “Frankfurt,” was thirty-five miles nearer to the
Titanic than was the Carpathia at the time of the accident, but for
some reason would not come to the assistance of the stricken liner, Mr.
Daniel said.
Asked if any women had been left aboard the Titanic he said: “Only
those women who positively refused to leave their husbands and who
could not be forced into lifeboats for lack of time.
“One of the most remarkable features of this horrible affair is the
length of time that elapsed after the collision before the seriousness
of the situation dawned on the passengers. The officers assured
everybody that there was no danger, and we all had such confidence in
the Titanic that it didn’t occur to anybody that she might sink.”
As to the reports that many persons had been shot to prevent them from
rushing the lifeboats, Mr. Daniel said several shots had been fired in
the air to frighten the steerage passengers and keep them in order,
but that he did not know or hear of anyone being hit by a bullet.
Mrs. John Jacob Astor, said Mr. Daniel, had been confined to her
stateroom under the doctor’s care during her stay on the Carpathia.
“I did not lay eyes on her nor on Bruce Ismay. He stuck close to his
cabin and I don’t think he came on deck once during the trip on the
Carpathia.”
Even when the passengers finally realized that the Titanic was doomed,
there was no disorder, according to Mr. Daniel. The crew’s discipline
was perfect and the women were placed in the boats quietly and without
confusion. It was only after the ship had gone down, he added, and
the women awoke to the fact that their husbands, brothers, sons and
sweethearts, who had told them they would follow “in other boats,” had
sunk to their death, that there was any hysteria.
THE CRIES WERE HEART-RENDING.
“Then the cries were awful to listen to; some of the women screamed all
the time. For four straight hours they kept at it. First from one boat,
then from another. It was heart-rending.”
Asked why the Carpathia had refused to answer the wireless messages
relayed to her, Mr. Daniel answered that so many land stations were
trying to get the vessel that the air was full of cross currents, and
it was almost impossible to catch any one message meant for the rescue
ship, let alone trying to reply to any of them.
While Mr. Daniel was talking to the newspaper men on the pier, just
after landing from the Carpathia, a man ran up and, showing him two
newspaper photographs, asked if he remembered the face.
“It’s my brother, Mr. White, of California,” said the man. “Is he on
board the Carpathia?”
“I don’t think so,” answered Mr. Daniel. “I remember meeting this
gentleman on board the Titanic, but I have not seen him since.” Mr.
White’s brother grabbed the photographs and rushed away.
Many of the men, said Mr. Daniel, refused to jump from the Titanic
until the ship was actually disappearing beneath the waves.
“They seemed to think they were safer on board,” he said, “and by
waiting too long lost their chance of being saved, for they were
probably carried down by the suction. Howard B. Case, of New York, was
one who declined to jump. C. Duane Williams was another. He was washed
overboard, but his son, Richard Norris Williams, jumped and was saved.”
Mr. Daniel was in the water or on a cake of ice nearly an hour before
he was pulled aboard a lifeboat. He had nothing to keep him from
freezing save a light overcoat over his pajamas. While on the Carpathia
he slept on the floor of the dining saloon and was so weak when he
landed that he could hardly move.
When in Philadelphia, Mr. Daniel makes his home at the Southern Club,
though he is a native of Richmond, Va., where his mother and brother
live.
CRAWLED ON TO CAKE OF ICE.
“When I finally went on deck,” said Mr. Daniel, “the water already was
up to my ankles. I saw the women and some of the men taking to the
boats. A short distance away was a big cake of ice. I jumped for it and
crawled on it.
“John B. Thayer, Jr., came to the same ice cake later, after the
Titanic sank. Then a boat passed near and he swam to it and was pulled
aboard. A half hour afterwards another boat came by and I was pulled
aboard.
“It seemed a long time before we saw the masts of the Carpathia, but
when the straight masts and the blur of smoke from her funnels were
outlined against the horizon, we realized that it meant rescue for all
of us. When the boat finally reached us, the men in the boat did what
they could to help the women to the vessel, but most of us were almost
helpless from the cold and exposure.
“I cannot pretend to explain the accident. All I can say is that we
knew for five hours before the accident that there were ice fields
about. I saw Colonel Astor after I was on the raft. He was still on
deck. The water was washing about his knees. He made no effort to get
into a boat.
“The last I saw of Major Butt,” Mr. Daniel added, “he was playing
bridge whist with Clarence Moore, of Washington, formerly of
Philadelphia, and widely known as a horse show exhibitor, and two other
men. This was just before I went to my cabin.
“When I came on deck again, I did not see him. I have no doubt he met
his death as a soldier should.”
Major Archibald Butt, U. S. A., military aid to President Taft, who
lost his life on the Titanic, met his death in a manner that fully
justified the President’s estimation of him as expressed in the eulogy
given out at the White House, in which the President tenderly referred
to his late aide as a man “gentle and considerate,” and as one who was
“every inch a soldier.”
GRAVITY OF THE TITANIC’S CONDITION.
From the moment the Titanic climbed to her death on the jagged shelf of
the great iceberg until the last boatload of women and children, and
some men, was lowered, Major Butt was to all intents and purposes an
officer not only of the American Army, but of the British mercantile
marine. He was among the first to realize the gravity of the Titanic’s
condition, and he immediately forgot self and went to the assistance of
the sorely taxed skipper and junior officers of the sinking liner.
From the moment that Captain Smith let it be known to his officers and
a few of the men passengers that the Titanic was doomed, Major Butt was
an officer of the Titanic. He was here and there and everywhere, giving
words of encouragement to weeping women and children, and uttering
when necessary commands to keep the weak-kneed men from giving in and
rendering the awful situation even more terrible.
That this was the manner in which Major Butt met death is certain.
Captain Charles E. Crain, of the Twenty-seventh United States Infantry
was a passenger on the Carpathia, and when he learned that Major Butt
was among the dead, he made it his duty to get the true tale of his
comrade’s death.
“Naturally,” said Captain Crain, “I was deeply concerned in the fate
of Major Butt, for he was not only a fellow-officer of the army, but
also a personal friend of many years’ standing. I questioned those of
the survivors who were in a condition to talk, and from them I learned
that Butt, when the Titanic struck, took his position with the officers
and from the moment that the order to man the lifeboats was given until
the last one was dropped into the sea, he aided in the maintenance of
discipline and the placing of the women and children in the boats.
AS COOL AS THE ICEBERG.
“Butt, I was told was as cool as the iceberg that had doomed the ship,
and not once did he lose control of himself. In the presence of death
he was the same gallant, courteous officer that the American people had
learned to know so well as a result of his constant attendance upon
President Taft. There was never any chance of Butt getting into any of
those lifeboats.
“He knew his time was at hand, and he was ready to meet it as a man
should, and I and all of the others who cherish his memory are glad
that he faced the situation that way, which was the only possible way a
man of his calibre could face it.”
Mrs. Henry B. Harris, of Washington, a survivor of the Titanic, said:
“I saw Major Butt just before they put me into a collapsible raft with
ever so many women from the steerage. Mr Millet’s little smile, which
played on his lips all through the voyage, had gone, but when I was put
in the boat I saw him wave his hand to a woman in another boat.
“But, oh, this whole world should rise in praise of Major Butt. That
man’s conduct will remain in my memory forever; the way he showed some
of the other men how to behave when women and children were suffering
that awful mental fear that came when we had to be huddled in those
boats. Major Butt was near me, and I know very nearly everything he did.
“When the order to take to the boats came he became as one in supreme
command. You would have thought he was at a White House Reception, so
cool and calm was he. A dozen or so women became hysterical all at once
as something connected with a lifeboat went wrong. Major Butt stepped
to them and said: ‘Really you must not act like that; we are all going
to see you through this thing.’
“He helped the sailors rearrange the rope or chain that had gone wrong
and lifted some of the women in with gallantry. His was the manner we
associate with the word aristocrat.
MAJOR BUTT A MAN TO BE FEARED.
“When the time came for it, he was a man to be feared. In one of the
earlier boats fifty women, it seemed, were about to be lowered when a
man, suddenly panic-stricken, ran to the stern of it. Major Butt shot
one arm out, caught him by the neck and pulled him backward like a
pillow. His head cracked against a rail and he was stunned.
“‘Sorry,’ said Major Butt; ‘women will be attended to first or I’ll
break every bone in your body.’
“The boats were lowered away, one by one, and as I stood by my husband
he said to me: ‘Thank God for Archie Butt.’ Perhaps Major Butt heard
it, for he turned his face toward us for a second.
“Just at that time a young man was arguing to get into a lifeboat, and
Butt had hold of the lad by the arm like a big brother and appeared to
be telling him to keep his head.
“I was one of three first cabin women in our collapsible boat, the rest
were steerage people. Major Butt helped those poor frightened people so
wonderfully, tenderly, and yet with such cool and manly firmness. He
was a soldier to the last.”
“If anything should happen to me, tell my wife in New York that I’ve
done my best in doing my duty.”
This was the last message of Benjamin Guggenheim, of the famous
banking family, dictated to a steward only a short while before the
banker sank to his death with the Titanic.
It was not until several days later that the message was received by
Mrs. Guggenheim.
It was delivered by James Etches, assistant steward in the first cabin
of the Titanic, to whom Mr. Guggenheim communicated it. Etches appeared
at the St. Regis Hotel and inquired for Mrs. Benjamin Guggenheim. He
said that he had a message from Benjamin Guggenheim, and that it had to
be delivered in person.
Mrs. Guggenheim was in the care of Daniel Guggenheim, whose apartments
are at the St. Regis. The steward was admitted, but was not permitted
to see Mrs. Guggenheim, who is prostrated with grief. He insisted that
he must see her personally, but finally consented to transmit the
message through her brother-in-law.
TOGETHER ALMOST TO THE END.
“We were together almost to the end,” said the steward. “I was saved.
He went down with the ship. But that isn’t what I want to tell Mrs.
Guggenheim.”
Then the steward produced a piece of paper. He had written the message
on it, he said, to be certain that it would be correct. The message was
as given.
“That’s all he said,” added the steward, “there wasn’t time for more.”
Little by little Mr. Guggenheim got the account of his brother’s death
from the steward. It was the first definite news that he had received
of his brother.
“Mr. Guggenheim was one of my charges,” said the steward anew. “He had
his secretary with him. His name was Giglio, I believe, an Armenian,
about twenty-four years old. Both died like men.
“When the crash came I awakened them and told them to get dressed.
A few minutes later I went into their rooms and helped them to get
ready. I put a life preserver on Mr. Guggenheim. He said it hurt him in
the back. There was plenty of time and I took it off, adjusted it, and
then put it on him again. It was all right this time.
“They wanted to get out on deck with only a few clothes on, but I
pulled a heavy sweater over Mr. Guggenheim’s life belt, and then they
both went out. They stayed together and I could see what they were
doing. They were going from one lifeboat to another helping the women
and children.
“Mr. Guggenheim would shout out, ‘Women first,’ and he was of great
assistance to the officers.
“Things weren’t so bad at first, but when I saw Mr. Guggenheim about
three quarters of an hour after the crash there was great excitement.
What surprised me was that both Mr. Guggenheim and his secretary were
dressed in their evening clothes. They had deliberately taken off their
sweaters, and as nearly as I can remember they wore no life belts at
all.
“‘What’s that for?’ I asked.
“‘We’ve dressed up in our best,’ replied Mr. Guggenheim, ‘and are
prepared to go down like gentlemen.’ It was then he told me about the
message to his wife and that is what I have come here for.
“Well, shortly after the last few boats were lowered and I was ordered
by the deck officer to man an oar, I waved good-bye to Mr. Guggenheim,
and that was the last I saw of him and his secretary.”
CHAPTER XII.
MRS. ASTOR’S BRAVERY.
Showed Wonderful Fortitude in the Hour of Peril--Sailors in Lifeboat
Tell Of Her Heroism--Pleaded To Remain With Husband--Change
Clothes to Embark--Seamen Confirm Murdock’s Suicide--One Heartless
Fiend--Williams Killed as Funnel Fell.
Narratives of the remarkable heroism of Colonel John Jacob Astor and
the patient fortitude of Mrs. Astor under conditions that tried the
self-control of the hardiest, continue to come to light.
The narrative of the dreadful suspense which in a short time changed
her from a radiant bride to a sorrowing widow was told by a friend of
the family.
At the same time survivors who occupied lifeboat No. 4, in which Mrs.
Astor and her maid escaped, told of how Mrs. Astor had helped calm
the other women and had even offered fellow sufferers portions of her
slender stock of clothing.
“Mrs Astor was the bravest little woman I ever met,” said Jack Foley,
who, with his mate, Sam Parks, pulled an oar in boat No. 4.
“Colonel Astor was a man all through, if there ever was one,” continued
Foley. “You see, it took us some time to launch boat No. 4. After we
had all the women and the children in the boat we discovered that we
couldn’t launch her until we removed the sounding spar several decks
below.
“So Sam and I got down and chopped the spar away. We were some time
doing this, as we had to hunt for an ax.
“We finally got the spar away and launched the boat. That is why boat
No. 4 was the last boat to be launched. The others had a free way
below it and could be put in the water at once.
“While waiting up there Mrs. Astor several times wanted to leave the
boat. Mr. Astor kept telling the good little woman that he was sure to
be saved and that it was her duty to go.
“She stretched out her arms just as though she was pleading with him
to let her get out of the boat and take her place with him. Mr. Astor
picked up a heavy steamer shawl and wrapped it about her shoulders.
“After pulling those eight men into the boat I was pretty wet and was
shivering. Mrs. Astor threw the shawl about my shoulders and said that
I needed it more than she did. I told her that I would get warmed up
after pulling a while at the oar and would have no use for it.
WHIMPERING WITH COLD.
“I put the shawl back on her lap. Sitting next to Mrs. Astor was a
Swedish woman with a little girl that I should take to be three or four
years old. The little girl was whimpering with the cold.
“Mrs. Astor took the shawl and threw it about the shoulders of this
woman, who thanked her in some foreign lingo. Then the steerage woman
kissed her little girl and took her into her arms and wrapped the shawl
about her.
“When the explosion occurred aboard the ship Mrs. Astor made some
kind of a sound, but I couldn’t understand whether she said anything
or merely sobbed. She turned her head away from the direction of the
vessel.”
So little was the impact felt at the time of the collision that Mrs.
Astor thought the crash was the result of some mishap in the kitchen
and paid no attention to it until the engines stopped.
Then, realizing that something was wrong, she inquired of her steward
the cause. He informed her that a slight accident had happened, and
that the captain had ordered the women to the lifeboats, but he added
that this was only a precautionary measure, and that they would all be
back soon again on the ship.
Mrs. Astor then entered her stateroom and changed her dress,
preparatory to leaving the Titanic for one of the lifeboats in company
with her maid.
As she left the room the steward told her he would lock up her suite so
that nobody would enter it during her absence, for he thought everybody
would soon return.
Colonel Astor accompanied his wife and her maid to lifeboat No. 4. When
he attempted to enter it he was pushed back by the sailor in charge,
and was told that no men were permitted in it.
“But,” said Colonel Astor, “there are no more women to be taken in, and
there is plenty of room.”
“That makes no difference,” replied the man; “the orders are no men, so
you cannot get in.”
There was no use arguing, Colonel and Mrs. Astor thought, so, waving
her adieu, he called out:
“Good-bye, Madeleine.”
TITANIC GOING DOWN TO HER DOOM.
Lifeboat No. 4 did not go far before she returned to the place which
soon after became the Titanic’s grave. The great “unsinkable” ship was
already going fast to her doom, and fear that the suction from the
sinking vessel would draw down the little lifeboat made its sailors
once more turn away from the wreck and seek safety, with its handful of
women and its empty seats.
When the Carpathia hove in sight two sailors in lifeboat No. 4 were
dead. The watch of one, which a woman looked at, had stopped at 2.15
o’clock.
In the roster of the Titanic’s heroes the name of Robbins should
appear. He was Colonel Astor’s old butler, and, like the Colonel’s
valet, always traveled with him. He is numbered among the Titanic’s
dead.
Faithful unto death was Kitty, Colonel Astor’s Airedale terrier and
constant companion. On land or sea, Kitty was never far from her
master’s heels, and the two were familiar figures on 5th avenue.
When the crash came Robbins went below and brought Kitty up on deck.
There, the most faithful of friends, she stood beside her master while
the sea embraced them, and she now shares his grave.
Reports that a number of men--probably steerage passengers--on the
Titanic who tried to rush the lifeboats and preempt the places of women
and children were unceremoniously shot were confirmed by Jack Williams
and William French, able seamen, survivors of the Titanic’s crew.
THE FIRST STAMPEDE.
“When the first of the 56-foot lifeboats were being filled,” explained
Williams, “the first stampede of panic-stricken men occurred. Within a
dozen feet of where I stood I saw fully ten men throw themselves into
the boats already crowded with women and children.
“These men were dragged back and hurled sprawling across the deck. Six
of them, screaming with fear, struggled to their feet and made a second
attempt to rush the boats.
“About ten shots sounded in quick succession. The six cowardly men were
stopped in their tracks, staggered and collapsed one after another. At
least two of them vainly attempted to creep toward the boats again. The
others lay quite still. This scene of bloodshed served its purpose. In
that particular section of the deck there was no further attempt to
violate the ‘women and children first’ rule.”
“Were any of these men from the first or second cabins?” Williams was
asked.
Williams, a medium-sized, stockily-built, blond-haired man of
thirty-six passed the query on to his sailor chum French, who replied:
“It was hard to tell. All of them were so scantily dressed. In the
semi-darkness and prevailing excitement faces left no distinct
impression with me. I should say that most, if not all of them, were
from the steerage.
“Other men passengers who in a general way resembled these same men
were among a score or so who jumped from the upper decks into the boats
occupied by women and children, after the order had been given to lower
boats. These men were not shot. They were tossed by the officers and
crew of the boat into the sea, where most of them perished, as they
deserved to.
“The report that First Officer Murdock and not Captain Smith, shot
himself on the bridge just as the forward section of the Titanic sank
is true. I still have before me the picture of Mr. Murdock standing on
the bridge as the waters surged up about him, placing the pistol to his
head and disappearing as the shot that ended his life rang out.”
EMERGENCY BOATS MADE READY.
“French and I,” said Williams, “stood by as the two emergency
boats--those that are always kept ready for rescue purposes at
sea--were made ready. These boats were only twenty-six feet long, while
the regular lifeboats are about fifty-six feet in length.
“It was in the first of these emergency boats that Mr. Ismay put off.
This boat and emergency boat No. 2 were launched with first class
passengers less than a half hour after the collision.
“A lot had been printed in the papers about the heroism of the
officers, but little has been said of the bravery of the men below the
decks. I was told that seventeen enginemen who were drowned side by
side got down on their knees on the platform of the engine room and
prayed until the water surged up to their necks.
“Then they stood up clasped hands so as to form a circle and died
together. All of these men helped rake the fires out from ten of
the forward boilers after the crash. This delayed the explosion and
undoubtedly permitted the ship to remain afloat nearly an hour longer,
and thus saved hundreds of lives.”
Mrs. John C. Hogeboom, her sister, Miss Cornelia T. Andrews, and their
niece, Miss Gretchen F. Longley, of Hudson, N. Y., were at the home of
Mrs Arthur E. Flack, in East Orange, N. J., where Miss Andrews told how
she and her aunts waited for the fourth lifeboat because there was not
room for the three of them in the first three boats launched.
“And when we finally did get into a boat,” continued Miss Andrews, “we
found that our miserable men companions could not row and had only said
they could because they wanted to save themselves. Finally I had to
take an oar with one of the able seamen in the boat.
“Alongside of us was a sailor, who lighted a cigarette and flung the
match carelessly among us women. Several women in the boat screamed,
fearing they would be set on fire. The sailor replied: ‘We are going to
hell anyway and we might as well be cremated now as then.’”
At this point Mrs. Hogeboom interrupted and said:
BETTER PUT ON LIFE PRESERVERS.
“A little after 12 we heard commotion in the corridor and we made more
inquiries, and they told us we had better put on life preservers. We
had only five minutes to get ready. We put our fur coats right on over
our night dresses and rushed on deck.
“One lifeboat was already full, but there was no panic. The discipline
in a way was good. No one hurried and no one crowded. We waited for the
fourth boat and were slowly lowered seventy-five feet to the water. The
men made no effort to get into the boat. As we pulled away we saw them
all standing in an unbroken line on the deck.
“There they stood--Major Butt, Colonel Astor waving a farewell to
his wife; Mr. Thayer, Mr. Case, Mr. Clarence Moore, Mr. Widener, all
multi-millionaires, and hundreds of other men bravely smiling at us
all. Never have I seen such chivalry and fortitude. Such courage in the
face of fate horrible to contemplate filled us even then with wonder
and admiration.
“Before our boat was lowered they called to some miserable specimens
of humanity and said: ‘Can you row?’ and for the purpose of getting in
they answered ‘Yes.’ But upon pulling out we found we had a Chinese
and an American, neither of whom knew how to row. So there we were in
mid-ocean with one able-bodied seaman.
“Then my niece took one oar and assisted the seaman and some of the
other women rowed on the other side. We then pulled out about a mile as
we feared the suction should the ship go down.
“Scarcely any of the lifeboats were properly manned. Two, filled with
women and children, capsized before our eyes. The collapsible boats
were only temporarily useful. They soon partially filled with water. In
one boat eighteen or twenty persons sat in water above their knees for
six hours.
EIGHT MEN THROWN OVERBOARD.
“Eight men in this boat were overcome, died and were thrown overboard.
Two women were in this boat. One succumbed after a few hours and one
was saved.
“The accident was entirely the result of carelessness and lack of
necessary equipment. There were boats for only one-third of the
passengers--there were no searchlights--the lifeboats were not
supplied with food or safety appliances--there were no lanterns on
the lifeboats--there was no way to raise sails, as we had no one who
understood managing a sailboat.”
Mrs. Hogeboom explained that the new equipment of masts and sails in
the boats was carefully wrapped and bound with twine. The men undertook
to unfasten them, but found it necessary to cut the ropes. They had no
knives, and in their frenzy they went about asking the ill-clad women
if they had knives. The sails were never hoisted.
According to Richard Norris Williams, Jr., his father, C. Duane
Williams, was killed, not drowned, in the Titanic wreck.
The son, who, with his father, was on his way to visit Richard Norris
Williams, his uncle, 8124 St. Martin’s lane, Chestnut Hill, Pa., says
his father was crushed to death by a falling funnel.
His account of the tragedy was given through Mrs. Alexander Williams,
daughter-in-law of Richard Norris Williams.
“Richard told us,” she said, “that he and his father had been watching
the Titanic’s lifeboats lowered and filled with women. The water was up
to their waists and the ship was about at her last.
“Suddenly one of the great funnels fell. Richard sprang aside, trying
to drag his father after him. But Mr. Williams was caught under the
funnel. A moment later the funnel was swept overboard, and the decks
were cleared of water. Mr. Williams, the father, had disappeared.
SWAM THROUGH THE ICE.
“Richard sprang overboard and swam through the ice to a life raft.
He was pulled aboard. There were five other men there and one woman.
Occasionally they were swept off into the sea, even the woman, but they
always managed to climb back. Finally those on the raft were picked up
by a Titanic lifeboat, and later were saved by the Carpathia.”
Young Mr. Williams said he didn’t see J. Bruce Ismay, managing director
of the White Star Line, after the iceberg was struck. He didn’t know
the Wideners or other Philadelphians aboard when he saw them.
Young Mr. Williams and his father were on their way here from Geneva,
Switzerland. The young man was met at the pier in New York when the
Carpathia docked by G. Heide Norris, a cousin. Together they went to
the Waldorf-Astoria, where they remained for a few days.
The Rev. P. M. A. Hoque, a Catholic priest of St. Cesaire, Canada, who
was a passenger on the Carpathia, told of finding the boats containing
the survivors. He said:
“Every woman and child, as if by instinct, put the loops around their
bodies and drew them taut. Some of the women climbed the ladders. To
others chairs were lowered and in these they were lowered and in these
they were lifted aboard.
“Not a word was spoken by any one of the rescued or the rescuers.
Everybody was too be-numbed by horror to speak. It was a time for
action and not words.
“Not a tear dimmed the eyes of one of the hundreds we got on deck. The
women were less excited than the men. Apparently they all had drained
their tear ducts dry, for every eye was red and swollen.”
One of the most interesting accounts of the Titanic disaster which has
come to light is in a letter written on board the Carpathia by Dr.
Alice Leeder, of New York, one of the survivors, after she had been
transferred to the Carpathia in a lifeboat.
The letter is a personal communication addressed to Mrs. Sarah Babcock,
2033 Walnut st., Philadelphia. By the wavering of the handwriting one
can readily realize the state of mind in which it was written.
DR. LEEDER’S LETTER.
In the letter Dr. Leeder said there was no panic on board the Titanic,
and that everyone who had to meet death met it with composure. She
speaks of the generosity and kindness shown by the crew and passengers
of the Carpathia in their treatment of the survivors. Following is the
letter:
“Royal Mail Steamship Carpathia,
Wednesday, April 16.
“My Dear Mrs. Babcock:
“We have been through a most terrible experience--the Titanic and
above a thousand souls sunk on Monday about 3 o’clock in the morning.
Margaret and I are safe, although we have lost everything. One of our
party, also, Mr. Kenyon, was lost. He was such a charming man--so
honorable and good.
“I sat talking to him a little before the accident--and a little later
he was dead. His wife is crushed by the blow. I can say one thing,
nothing could part me from my husband in time of danger.
“After floating about for four hours we were taken on board the
steamer that was bound for Naples--but she is now taking us to New
York.
“It is terrible to see the people who have lost their families and
friends--one lady has lost $15,000 worth of clothing, and no one has
saved anything. Many of the passengers have only their night clothes
with coats over them.
“I shall never forget the sight of that beautiful boat as she went
down, the orchestra playing to the last, the lights burning until they
were extinguished by the waves. It sounds so unreal, like a scene on
the stage. We were hit by an iceberg.
“We were in the midst of a field of ice; towers of ice; fantastic
shapes of ice! It is all photographed on my mind. There was no panic.
Everyone met death with composure--as one said the passengers were a
set of thoroughbreds.
“We are moving slowly toward New York. Everyone on this boat is so
kind to us. Clothing and all the necessaries are at our convenience. I
am attired in my old blue serge, a steamer hat; truth to tell, I am a
sorry looking object to land in New York.
“This is rather a mixed up epistle, but please pardon lack of
clearness of expression. If you want me, some time I will come to
Philadelphia for a day or two in the future.
“With dear love,
“ALICE J. LEEDER.”
Two handsome little boys, tiny waifs of the sea, are one of the
mysteries of the Titanic disaster. These small boys were rescued as the
big liner was foundering. Miss Hays, who has them in charge, said:
“These two beautiful children speak French fluently, and they know what
their first names are, but they do not know their last names. They are
‘Louis,’ four and a half years old, I should say, and ‘Lump,’ a year
younger.
“They were rescued from the Titanic and brought to the Carpathia where
I was taken in another boat. Nobody knows who they are. There was but
one man in the second class cabin who had two children with him, and
that was a Mr. Hoffmann, but no one knows any more about him than that.
Whether these are his children or not, we do not know.
“We in the first cabin used to see them and greatly admired them for
their beauty and sweet ways.
“When they were brought on board the Carpathia there were no New York
people except myself, who had not lost friends, I was the only one in a
position to befriend them, and I went to the committee of passengers we
had on board and offered to take them to my home.
“They gladly gave them to me because it meant that otherwise some
society would grab them and they might be separated and never reunited.
“I think that the boys are French, but perhaps Swiss, French or
Alsatian. I have tried them in Italian, German and English, but they
cannot understand. Louis, the oldest, is brown eyed, with curly brown
hair, very regular teeth and has no scar or mark on his body that would
identify him. Both are well bred. The little fellow is just like his
brother, but a year younger. Both have very long, curling lashes.
“When they got up this morning they asked first thing for a bath, and
at breakfast placed their napkins under their chins themselves. Louis
came aboard wrapped in a blanket that a sailor had given him. The other
boy had a little blue coat with white collar. Louis’s French is not a
patois and he has a very large vocabulary.
“I shall keep them till they are identified and make every effort to
find out who they are. Any one who can help me will win my thanks and
the thanks doubtless of some poor, stricken relatives. It seems almost
impossible that these boys can fail to be identified in this day and
generation.”
CHAPTER XIII.
LIFEBOATS BUNGLINGLY HANDLED.
Widow of College Founder Scores Management for Lack of Drill--First
Thought Damage was Slight--Aid May Have Been Near--No Oil in Life
Lamps--Hudson, N. Y., Woman’s Pathetic Recital--A. A. Dick, of New
York, Talks.
The urgent need of lifeboat drills on the trans-Atlantic liners was
touched upon by Mrs. William R. Bucknell, widow of the founder of
Bucknell University, and herself one of the survivors of the disaster,
in the course of a graphic account of the wreck of the Titanic given by
her at the home of her son-in-law, Samuel P. Wetherill, Jr., at 23d and
Spruce sts., Philadelphia.
Mrs. Bucknell said that not only were the passengers on the Titanic
absolutely unfamiliar with the life saving equipment of the vessel, but
that the equipment was inadequate and even faulty.
The lifeboats were bunglingly fastened to their davits, she said, and
many of the collapsibles were too stiff to open and thus useless for
service.
To her the greatest crime was the “unpreparedness” of the lifeboat
equipment. Mrs. Bucknell declared one of the boats was launched
with the plug out of the bottom, and afterwards sank, the occupants
fortunately being rescued by the Titanic’s fifth officer.
The lifeboat in which she was placed by Captain Smith, she declared,
was manned only by a steward and three ordinary seamen. And none of the
men, she declared, knew how to row.
Mrs. Bucknell also said that she had not seen a lifeboat drill while
she was aboard the Titanic, and diligent inquiry among those rescued,
after they were safely aboard the Carpathia, failed to develop any
knowledge on their part of such drills ever having been held.
Mrs. Bucknell said that the only provisions aboard her lifeboat was
a basket full of bread. She saw no water, although she said that two
small casks beneath one of the seats may have contained water.
“The lifeboats were so bunglingly fastened to the davits in the first
place that it was hard work to get them free,” said Mrs. Bucknell.
“Half the collapsible boats were so stiff that they could not be opened
and were useless. Those that were not already opened and ready for use
were unavailable, also, for none on board seemed to understand how they
worked. Hundreds more could have been saved if these collapsible boats
had worked properly.
LIFEBOAT BEGINS TO FILL.
“One of the lifeboats had a big hole in the bottom. A plug had fallen
out, I believe. When it was loaded and lowered over the side into the
sea it began to fill at once. At this point the fifth officer proved
himself a hero. Women in the leaking boat were screaming with fright
and tearing off their clothing in wild and fruitless efforts to plug up
the hole.
“The boat filled to the gunwhales before any were saved. The brave
fifth officer to my knowledge rescued nineteen of the women in this
boat, some of whom had fallen over the side into the sea. It was
finally hauled alongside and replugged, loaded and relaunched.
“I was asleep in my cabin when the crash came,” said Mrs. Bucknell,
beginning her account of the disaster. “I cannot explain just what the
noise was like, except that it was horrible and sounded like a mixture
of thunder and explosions.
“In a moment there was a roaring sound and I knew that something
serious was the matter. The corridors filled rapidly with frightened
passengers and then the stewards and officers came, reassuring us with
the announcement that everything was all right and that only a small
hole had been stove in the bow.
“As I stepped out of my stateroom I saw lying before me on the floor a
number of fragments of ice as big as my fists. More was crumbled about
the porthole, and it flashed over me at once just what had happened.
“‘We have hit an iceberg,’ I said to my maid, ‘get dressed at once.’
“We hurried into our clothes, and I took the precaution to get fully
dressed. So did my maid. I even thought to wrap myself in my warm fur
coat, for even then I felt sure we would have to take to the boats.
Something told me the damage was greater than we had been told.
“My fears were realized a few minutes later when a steward walked
briskly down the corridor, calling to the passengers who had retired
again to hurry into their clothes and get on deck at once. I could
see by this man’s drawn and haggard face that something dreadful had
happened.
WOULD NOT BE SEPARATED.
“There was very little confusion on the deck. Once a group of men
shouted that they would not be separated from their wives if it became
necessary to take to the boats and made a rush to find accommodations
for themselves. The captain seemed to straighten out his shoulders and
his face was set with determination.
“‘Get back there, you cowards,’ he roared. ‘Behave yourself like men.
Look at these women. Can you not be as brave as they?’
“The men fell back, and from that moment there seemed to be a spirit of
resignation all over the ship. Husbands and wives clasped each other
and burst into tears. Then a few minutes later came the order for the
women and children to take to the boats.
“I did not hear an outcry from the women or the men. Wives left their
husbands’ side and without a word were led to the boats. One little
Spanish girl, a bride, was the only exception. She wept bitterly, and
it was almost necessary to drag her into the boat. Her husband went
down with the ship.
“The last person I remember seeing was Colonel Astor. When he had been
told by the captain that it would be impossible for the husbands to
take to the boats with their wives, he took Mrs. Astor by the arm and
they walked quietly away to the other side of the vessel. As we pulled
away I saw him leaning tenderly over her, evidently whispering words of
comfort.
“There were thirty-five persons in the boats in which the captain
placed me. Three of these were ordinary seamen, supposed to manage the
boat, and a steward.
“One of these men seemed to think that we should not start from the
sinking ship until it could be learned whether the other boats would
accommodate the rest of the women. He seemed to think that more could
be crowded into ours, if necessary.
“‘I would rather go back and go down with the ship than leave under
these circumstances,’ he cried.
ORDERED TO PULL FOR THE LIGHT.
“The captain shouted to him to obey orders and to pull for a little
light that could be just discerned miles in the distance. I do not know
what this little light was. It may have been a passing fishing vessel,
which, of course, could not know our predicament. Anyway, we never
reached it.
“We rowed all night. I took an oar and sat beside the Countess de
Rothes. Her maid had an oar and so did mine. The air was freezing cold,
and it was not long before the only man that appeared to know anything
about rowing commenced to complain that his hands were freezing.
“A woman back of him handed him a shawl from about her shoulders.
“As we rowed we looked back at the lights of the Titanic. There was not
a sound from her, only the lights began to get lower and lower, and
finally she sank. Then we heard a muffled explosion and a dull roar
caused by the great suction of water.
“There was not a drop of water on our boat. The last minute before our
boat was launched Captain Smith threw a bag of bread aboard. I took
the precaution of taking a good drink of water before we started, so I
suffered no inconvenience from thirst.
“Another thing that I must not forget to mention, it is but additional
proof of my charge that the Titanic was poorly equipped. The lamp on
our boat was nearly devoid of oil.
“‘For God’s sake, keep that wick turned down low, or you will be in
complete darkness,’ we were told on leaving. It wasn’t long before
these words proved true, and before daylight we were dependent on
a cane one of the women had brought along, which contained a tiny
electric lamp.
FOUGHT THEIR WAY THROUGH THE DARKNESS.
“With this little glow worm we fought our way through the darkness. I
rowed for an hour straight ahead. Then I rested and some one else took
my place. Then I grasped the oars again. I have had lots of experience
in this form of exercise, and at my place in the Adirondacks am at it
continually, so, contrary to stories that have been written, I did not
blister my hands.
“I want to say right here that I did not manage the boat. I helped row
it and that’s all.
“We had rowed about ten miles when looking over Countess Rothe’s oar I
spied a faint light to the rear.
“‘What’s that light?’ I almost screamed.
“One of the sailors looked where I indicated and said: ‘It’s a ship--I
can tell by the lights on her masthead.’
“As we passed over the spot where the Titanic had gone down we saw
nothing but a sheet of yellow scum and a solitary log. There was not a
body, not a thing to indicate that there had been a wreck. The sun was
shining brightly then, and we were near to the Carpathia.”
Mrs. K. T. Andrews, of Hudson, N. Y., a first class passenger on the
Titanic, said:
“When our boat was away from the Titanic there was an explosion and the
Titanic seemed to break in two. Then she sank, bow first. Just before
this, I saw Mr. Astor, Mr. Thayer and Mr. Case standing on deck. They
were smiling and as we went off they waved their hands.”
Thomas Whitley, a waiter on the Titanic, who was sent to a hospital
with a fractured leg, was asleep five decks below the main saloon deck.
He ran upstairs and saw the iceberg towering high above the forward
deck of the Titanic.
“It looked like a giant mountain of glass,” said Whitley. “I saw that
we were in for it. Almost immediately I heard that stokehold No. 11
was filling with water and that the ship was doomed. The water-tight
doors had been closed, but the officers, fearing that there might be an
explosion below decks, called for volunteers to go below to draw the
fires.
COULD ALMOST FEEL THE WATER RUSHING IN.
“Twenty men stepped forward almost immediately and started down. To
permit them to enter the hold it was necessary for the doors to be
opened again, and after that one could almost feel the water rushing
in. It was but a few minutes later when all hands were ordered on deck
with lifebelts. It was then known for a certain fact that the ship was
doomed.”
Charles Williams, the racquet coach at Harrow, Eng., who is the
professional champion of the world and was coming to New York to defend
his title, said he was in the smoking-room when the boat struck. He
rushed out, saw the iceberg, which seemed to loom above the deck over a
hundred feet. It broke up amidship and floated away.
He jumped from the boat deck on the starboard side as far away from
the steamer as possible. He was nine hours in the small boat, standing
in water to his knees. He said “the sailors conducted themselves
admirably.”
A. A. Dick, of New York, said:
“Everybody in the first and second cabin behaved splendidly. The
members of the crew also behaved magnificently. But some men in the
third class, presumably passengers, were shot by some of the officers.
Who these men were we do not know. There was a rush for the lifeboats.
“It was fully an hour after the boat struck that the lifeboats were
launched. This was due to the fact that those aboard had not the
slightest idea that the ship would sink.”
George Rheims, of 417 Fifth avenue, New York, was on the Titanic with
his brother-in-law, Joseph Holland Loring, of London. He said no one
seemed to know for twenty minutes after the boat struck that anything
had happened. Many of the passengers stood round for an hour with their
life belts on, he said, and saw people getting in the boats.
When all the boats had gone, he added, he shook hands with his
brother-in-law, who would not jump, and leaped over the side of the
boat.
BOAT HALF UNDER WATER.
He swam for a quarter of an hour and reached a boat and climbed in. He
found the boat, with eighteen occupants, half under water. The people
were in water up to their knees. Seven of them, he said, died during
the night.
The sufferings of the Titanic’s passengers when taken off the lifeboats
by the Carpathia were told by John Kuhl, of Omaha, Neb., who was a
passenger on the latter vessel. Many of the women, he said, were
scantily clad and all were suffering from the cold. Four died on the
Carpathia as a result of the exposure.
“In spite of the suffering and the crowded condition of the boats,”
said Mr. Kuhl, “the utmost heroism was displayed by all of the
unfortunates. When they were lifted to the deck of the Carpathia many
of the women broke down completely, and there were many touching
scenes. Many of the women were incoherent and several were almost
insane.”
Of all the heroes who went to their death when the Titanic dived to its
ocean grave, none, in the opinion of Miss Hilda Slater, a passenger in
the last boat to put off, deserved greater credit that the members of
the vessel’s orchestra.
According to Miss Slater, the orchestra played until the last. When
the vessel took its final plunge the strains of a lively air mingled
gruesomely with the cries of those who realized that they were face to
face with death.
Mrs. Edgar J. Meyer, of New York, said:
“It was a clear and star-lit night. When the ship struck we were in our
cabin. I was afraid and made my husband promise if there was trouble he
would not make me leave him. We walked around the deck a while.
“An officer came up and cried: ‘All women into the lifeboats.’ My
husband and I discussed it--and the officer said: ‘You must obey
orders.’ We went down into the cabin and we decided on account of our
baby to part. He helped me put on warm things.
“I got into a boat, but there were no sailors aboard. An English girl
and I rowed for four hours and a half. Then we were picked up at 6
o’clock in the morning.”
THERE WERE TWO EXPLOSIONS.
Hugh Wellner, a son of Thomas Wellner, R. A., of London, says there
were two explosions before the Titanic made her dive into the sea.
Wellner believes he was the last person to leave the Titanic.
Mrs. Alexander T. Compton and her daughter, Miss Alice Compton, of New
Orleans, two of the Titanic’s rescued, reached New York completely
prostrated over the loss of Mrs. Compton’s son, Alexander, who went
down with the big liner.
“When we waved good-bye to my son,” said Mrs. Compton, “we did not
realize the great danger, but thought we were only being sent out in
the boats as a precautionary measure. When Captain Smith handed us
life preservers he said cheerily: ‘They will keep you warm if you do
not have to use them.’ Then the crew began clearing the boats and
putting the women into them. My daughter and I were lifted in the boat
commanded by the fifth officer. There was a moan of agony and anguish
from those in our boat when the Titanic sank, and we insisted that the
officer head back for the place where the Titanic had disappeared.
“We found one man with a life preserver on him struggling in the cold
water, and for a moment I thought that he was my son.”
That all possible means were taken to prevent the male passengers
on board the Titanic from going away in lifeboats and allowing the
women and children to perish is the tale told by Miss Lily Bentham,
of Rochester, N. Y., a second class passenger, who said she saw shots
fired at men who endeavored to get away.
Miss Bentham was in a hysterical condition when the Carpathia landed,
and was unable to give a full account of what happened, but Mrs. W. J.
Douton, a fellow passenger, who also comes from Rochester, and who lost
her husband, told about what took place.
PACKED LIKE SARDINES IN THE BOAT.
“I had not been in bed half an hour,” said Mrs. Douton, “when the
steward rushed down to our cabin and told us to put on our clothes and
come upon deck. We were thrown into lifeboats and packed like sardines.
As soon as the men passengers tried to get to the boats they were shot
at.
“I don’t know who did the shooting. We rowed frantically away from
the ship and were tied to four other boats. I arose and saw the ship
sinking.
“The band was playing ‘Nearer, My God, to Thee.’ There was a baby in
the boat with one of the women. The baby’s hands had been cut off. I
think it was still alive. The mother did not give it up. During the
night, when waiting for the Carpathia, four of the crew died in the
boat and were thrown overboard.
“It was bitter cold, and we had to wait until 8 o’clock in the morning
before being taken off by the lifeboats of the Carpathia.”
John R. Joyce, a banker of Carslbad, N. M., a passenger on the
Carpathia, said: “When the Carpathia reached the scene of the wreck we
saw eighteen boats and one raft on the water. The Carpathia picked them
all up. Four persons on the raft were dead. They were buried at sea on
our way back to New York. A survivor told me that some of the Titanic’s
passengers jumped for the lifeboats, missed them and were drowned. I
heard nothing of Major Butt.”
Mrs. Dickinson Bishop, of Detroit, declared that she was the first
woman in the first boat. “We floated around a half mile or so from the
scene of the disaster for four hours before we were picked up by the
Carpathia,” she said.
“I was in bed when the crash came. I was not much alarmed, but decided
to dress and go on deck. By the time I was dressed everything seemed
quiet, and I lay down in my berth again, assured that there was no
danger. I rose again at the summons of a stewardess. There were very
few passengers on the deck when I reached there.
DISCIPLINE WAS PERFECT.
“There was no panic and the discipline of the Titanic’s crew was
perfect. My husband joined me on the Carpathia, and we knelt together
and thanked God for our preservation.”
That the stokers of the Titanic were the first to realize the
seriousness of the accident and came rushing pell mell to the upper
decks for safety was the tale related by one of the survivors to John
R. Joyce, a passenger aboard the Carpathia, who hails from Carlsbad, N.
M.
“Soon after the crash,” said Mr. Joyce, “I was told that about a dozen
stokers came scrambling to the upper decks. They were whispering
excitedly and edging their way cautiously toward one of the lifeboats.
Suddenly and without consulting any of the officers of the ship they
climbed into the lifeboat and were off before any others of the crew
were the wiser.”
George Biorden, of California, had this to say:
“I was beside Henry B. Harris, the theatrical manager, when he bade
his wife good-bye. Both started toward the side of the boat where a
lifeboat was being lowered.
“Mr. Harris was told it was the rule for women to leave the boat first.
‘Yes, I know, I will stay,’ Harris said. Shortly after the lifeboats
left a man jumped overboard. Other men followed. It was like sheep
following a leader.
“Captain Smith was washed from the bridge into the ocean. He swam to
where a baby was drowning and carried it in his arms while he swam to a
lifeboat, which was manned by officers of the Titanic. He surrendered
the baby to them and swam back to the steamer.
“About the time Captain Smith got back there was an explosion. The
entire ship trembled. I had secured a life preserver and jumped over. I
struck a piece of ice but was not injured.
“I swam about sixty yards from the steamer when there was a series
of explosions. I looked back and saw the Titanic go down, bow first.
Hundreds of persons were in the water at the time. When the great
steamer went down they shrieked hysterically.”
MRS. PAUL SCHABERT’S STORY.
Mrs. Paul Schabert, of Derby, Conn., said:
“I was in stateroom No. 28, on the port side and was asleep at the time
of the collision. The shock awoke me, but there seemed no excitement
and people were walking about in orderly fashion, many stateroom doors
being opened simply to permit inquiries as to the cause of the shock.
“Then in the midst of all this quiet, came the startling cry of ‘Ladies
first,’ and it was the first intimation of danger that we had. Many
of us, however, went back to our staterooms to dress, and did it in
rather leisurely fashion, until the order was passed that women must
leave their husbands, brothers and other male relations and take to the
lifeboats.
“By this time the ship’s orchestra had been ordered to play as the
lifeboats were sent away from the Titanic’s side. I refused to leave
unless my brother also was permitted to go with me.
“I stood aside and saw about a dozen boats rowed away and several
times officers of the boat tried to persuade me to go along. When the
next to the last lifeboat was ready to leave, there was not another
woman in sight and the word was passed that I might take Philip with me.
“The Titanic sank about 1.50 o’clock Monday morning, and it was 6
o’clock the same morning that the Carpathia put in an appearance and we
were picked up. We were probably a mile from the Titanic’s grave when
taken aboard the Carpathia.”
C. H. Romaine, Georgetown, Ky., tells his story as follows:
“I had just retired for the night when the Titanic crashed to its doom.
The jar was so slight that not much attention was paid to it. Before
going on deck I was told that there was not the slightest danger.
“Forty-five minutes afterwards we were told that the vessel was
sinking. Men, women and children were gathered together on deck. Men
stood aside to let the women and children take their places in the
boats. The men who remained behind were confident that the Titanic
would float for hours. I was commanded to row in one of the first boats
that left the ship.
“We passed out of sight of the Titanic before she sank, but distinctly
heard the explosion.”
CHAPTER XIV.
NOT LIKE BOURGOGNE DISASTER.
Lone Woman Survivor Makes Comparison--Does Not Like “Law of the
Sea”--Families First, It Should Be, She Says--Husband Greeted Like the
Hero He Was--Privations and Horror Hasten Death.
Whenever men speak of tragedies of the sea, the story of La Bourgogne,
the French Line steamship, which was sunk in collision with the British
ship Cormartyshire, is always recalled. The conduct of the French
sailors upon that occasion is held up as a shining example of what the
behavior of a crew should not be. It even appears more reprehensible in
the light of comparison with the heroism and noble sacrifices of the
male passengers and crew who went down with the Titanic.
There were 584 persons drowned in the wreck, and only one woman was
saved. She was saved by her husband, who seems to have been the only
man in all that great company who showed his manhood in the face of
that overwhelming disaster.
This hero was Adrien Lacasse, a young French teacher, of Plainfield, N.
J. He died three years ago in New York, pneumonia being given as the
immediate cause of death. His friends know that the horrors through
which he had gone so weakened his constitution that he could not
withstand the illness.
Mrs. Victoire Lacasse is living quietly in this city with her son
Robert, who was born after the disaster.
Time has not erased the lines left by the tragedy in her face, and only
a glance at that sad, patient face tells the story of her suffering.
Since the news of the wreck of the Titanic came she has not dared to
remain alone with her thoughts, but has always had some friend near
her when it was possible, and when it was not has found comfort in
talking to them over the telephone.
Mrs. Lacasse has written the story of the Bourgogne. She has taken
occasion in this story to protest against the “rule of the sea” which
provides for “women and children first.”
On the contrary, she believes that it should be “families first,” and
says that she would rather have gone down with her husband than have
been saved without him. Mrs. Lacasse’s story follows:
I have read only the headlines about the wreck of the Titanic. That is
all that I had to read. The rest I know. I can see all the things that
happened aboard the big funeral ship as vividly as if I had been aboard
her when she collided head-on with the iceberg.
WENT DOWN OFF SABLE ISLAND.
I can even picture the ocean, the day and all the surroundings,
because, as many will recall, it was just off Sable Island that La
Bourgogne went to her grave on July 4, 1898, the same day that all
America was rejoicing over its victory in the Spanish-American War.
I have the most heartfelt sympathy for the bereaved, unfortunate
survivors of this last terrible wreck. It has always seemed to me a
great mistake to compel women and children to be saved first. How much
better it would be to save entire families than to have so many widows
and children.
I know that I should have preferred going down with my husband to being
saved without him. The women and children from the Titanic, who have
just passed through this ordeal of being separated from their husbands
and fathers, stepping into little boats and looking back on their loved
ones for the last time, must feel just as I do.
Why should the rule of the sea supersede the marriage vow, “until death
do us part.”
The story of La Bourgogne has been told and retold so often, and there
have been so many different versions of the wreck, that I do not
believe that the public understands the truth yet. For one thing, I
think too much stress has been laid upon the alleged brutality of the
crew.
While it is undoubtedly true that they were untrained and
undisciplined, and were not at their proper stations, I don’t believe
that they fought back the women and children with their knives. It was
the men in the steerage who did these things.
We boarded La Bourgogne on Saturday, July 2, from New York. The
steamship was bound for Havre. My husband, who, I may mention, had
served ten years in the French navy, wanted to spend the summer months
with his parents.
The first two days we had beautiful weather. Sunday night I could not
sleep, recalling the stories of the passengers as I did. At one o’clock
on Monday morning I awakened my husband, telling him that I heard a
foghorn.
THERE WAS NOTHING TO FEAR.
He laughed and tried to comfort me by saying that we had a good boat
and that Captain Deloncle was a good captain and there was nothing to
fear. I insisted and told him that I would not go to sleep unless he
went up on deck to make certain that everything was all right.
My husband dressed himself and went up on deck. He did not come down
to our cabin again until half-past four and then he threw himself, all
dressed, upon the bed. I called to him again that I heard the foghorn,
which had been blowing all that time. He went to the port hole to look
out.
He had hardly done so when the crash came and he was thrown violently
on his back. He was on his feet in a minute, and half dragged me out of
bed. Then he put a life preserver on me and another on himself.
Then we both went on deck, my husband taking several other life
preservers with him and leaving them on the deck for others. Some men
from the steerage saw us and evidently thought that we had the best
life preservers, because they came at us with their knives. I screamed
and they went away.
Meanwhile some sailors and passengers were trying to launch boats on
the other side of the ship. My husband tried to help them, but there
was no use. The ship was listing too much.
I cannot describe much of what happened on board after this, as my
husband cried to me to close my eyes if I would keep my senses. I do
remember hearing the captain shouting orders, but I don’t believe they
were being obeyed. We ran to the stern and climbed aboard a raft.
Immediately after this the raft slipped from under us into the water
and left us hanging on the rail of the steamer. Then we both fell into
the water backwards. My husband swam to the raft with me. He climbed on
it first and then dragged me up after him.
EVERYONE FIGHTING EVERYONE ELSE.
We were the first people on the raft, but it wasn’t long before we were
surrounded by the men from the boats. Everyone was fighting everyone
else to get on the raft and to keep the others from getting on.
It was more horrible than the most realistic nightmare. About twenty
men had managed to get on our raft, which was built to hold ten.
The buoys of the raft were already under water and the raft was nearly
sinking. An old man swam to us. The men shouted to push him off if he
tried to get on, but my husband wouldn’t do it and pulled him on board.
He was a Mr. Achard, of Baltimore, and had lost his wife, his son and
his daughter in the wreck.
We were drifting helplessly around, no one knowing what to do, when my
husband said that there must be a pair of oars on the raft. He felt
underneath and found a pair, so the men were able to row out of danger.
The ship first went down up to the stern, but righted up. Then the
bow arose above the water almost like a porpoise. The ship went slowly
down. We saw the captain on his bridge.
We saw the water come up and up until it almost reached him. Then we
heard a pistol shot. Many people thought that he had shot himself, but
it was simply his last call for help. He went down with his boat.
It had been just forty minutes after the collision that La Bourgogne
took her final dive. Then suddenly men, women and children, some of
them still alive, were spouted out like sticks in a boiling volume.
Those poor creatures, those who had the strength, would swim to the
rafts and beg to be taken aboard, and, being denied, turn and disappear
into the ocean.
Presently the sun broke through the heavy fog and the great curtain
lifted. The surface of the ocean, which had been disturbed by great
swells, became as calm as a millpond. It was a beautiful summer’s
day. There was nothing to indicate that a great tragedy had just been
enacted on these waters.
NEARLY AN HOUR BEFORE RELIEF CAME.
Our men pulled at the oars and after some hours we came in sight of
the Cromartyshire. There were two boats from La Bourgogne tied to her
stern, but it was nearly an hour before they sent a boat for us. When
they did I would not get into one and they towed us to the side, where
I was helped aboard.
When wireless telegraphy was discovered I thought that great wrecks
would be impossible, but the fate of the Titanic has shown us
differently. We must rely upon lifeboats and life preservers. I think
every person should learn how to put on a life preserver when he goes
on board a vessel. He can not learn when the ship starts to sink. My
husband said that nearly all could have been saved from La Bourgogne if
they had put on life belts and kept cool.
Adrien Lacasse was greeted as a returning hero. On his trip through
Canada to this city, he was besieged by people who wanted to see him
and shake hands with him. He pulled down the shade of the window in his
car to avoid notoriety. The crowds shook hands with an American woman,
who sat behind him, believing that she was Mrs. Lacasse.
Mothers named their babies after him, and from all corners of the earth
came letters of praise. He was a hero because he kept cool, and was the
only man who did. The heroes of the Titanic can not be counted. They
all kept their heads, so far as is known, but their only reward was the
knowledge that they had not been cowards in the face of death.
Standing in a circle in the engine room of the Titanic as she went
down, with hands clasping those of their comrades and all praying, the
gallant thirty-three engine men of the wounded vessel met their death.
The tragic story of their bravery in the face of what they must have
known was certain death was told by Thomas Hardy, chief steward of the
Titanic, as he left for England, a passenger on board the Red Star Line
steamship Lapland.
SCENE THAT HARDY WITNESSED.
His voice breaking with emotion, Hardy told the story of the scene that
he and other stewards witnessed from the galleries overlooking the
engine room.
“When the order that every man should take his post, as the vessel was
sinking, was sent through the Titanic,” said Hardy, “there were eleven
men on duty in the hold.
“The twenty others, without the least hesitancy, came hurrying to their
posts beside the engines and dynamos. They must have known as well as
Captain Smith that the Titanic was going down, for when they arrived in
the engine room the water was rising over the floor. There was nothing
for them to do but to keep the dynamos running.
“Not one of them moved to quit their posts and not one would have dared
to, even they had been willing, in the face of the stern men who had
chosen to die there. Yet they could be of no use, for the Titanic was
going down then.
“The water was rising about them when I looked down from a gallery. I
saw the little circle of Chief Engineer Bell and sixteen of his men
standing there in the water with their lips moving in prayer. I pray
that I may never see the like of it again; it was real heroism.”
Perhaps one of the clearest stories of the disaster was told by Albert
Smith, steward of the Titanic. Smith was one of the number of six
members of the crew of the sunken liner who manned boat No. 11, which
carried fifty women and no men other than the half dozen necessary to
row it to safety.
“From the time that the first boat pushed off,” he said, “until ten
minutes before the Titanic sank, the band was playing. They played
light music, waltzes and popular airs at first.
“The last thing they played was ‘Nearer, My God, to Thee.’ The voices
of the men on board joining in the singing came perfectly clear over
the water. It was so horrible it was unbelievable. You kept thinking
you would wake up.
“I saw First Officer Murdock, of the Titanic, shoot himself. It was
Murdock who was on the bridge when the ship struck.
DID NOT THINK IT SERIOUS.
“I was in my bunk when the crash came. It was not much of a shock. Of
course, I knew something had happened, but it never dawned on me there
was anything serious.
“I threw on a few clothes, hurriedly, though according to drill, and
went to boat No. 11, which was my place in case of emergency. I stood
there until one of the officers came by and said there was no danger
and that the men might return to their bunks. I was partly undressed
again when the second call came.
“I went back to my post at No. 11 and we prepared to lower the small
boats. We had made 565 miles during the day and the Titanic was running
at the rate of twenty-three knots an hour when she struck. My boat
station was on the promenade deck. I want to say right here that there
was no confusion or panic while the boats were being filled.
“As a matter of fact, there was no particular rush for the boats,
because it did not enter the heads of any at first that the Titanic
could actually sink.
“Many believed it was safer to stay on board the big liner, even
wounded as she was, than to trust themselves to the boats. When we had
filled our boat we lowered. We had about fifty women with us, which
crowded our small craft, so that we were only able to man our oars very
slowly and clumsily. In consequence of this we were not more than a
half mile from the Titanic when she sunk.
“We saw her plainly all the time, and whatever anybody else may say,
believe me, her lights were gleaming until about five minutes before
she went down. The night was clear and cold and calm and so bright that
the many stars were reflected in the sea.
“We put off into a field of small ice. The berg we had struck was
plainly visible. The Titanic struck a large, jagged, submerged portion
of the berg, on the port side; as she slowly slid back and away from
the mountain of ice it passed her on the starboard side and went slowly
on its way.
IT WAS APPALLING.
“As I say, we rowed slowly because of our heavy cargo. The Titanic
settled slowly at first. When she got going, though, she went rapidly.
It was appalling. I do not think any of us really believed until her
final lurch that she would actually sink.
“She started to go down bow first. She dove like that until her
propeller was out of water. Everybody rushed to the stern of the boat.
You could see them climbing and clinging to the higher places. Suddenly
the Titanic gave a frightful lurch. Hundreds of those on the stern were
flung into the air.
“They looked like a swarm of bees; little and black. Then the Titanic
broke, snapped in the middle and the boilers blew up and the engines
dropped out with a frightful noise. She sank practically in two pieces,
broken directly in half. There was little or no swirl or intake. I do
not think any of the boats were drawn down.
“Murdock stood on the promenade deck when the last boat pushed off.
Captain Smith had taken charge of the bridge. Murdock put a pistol to
his right temple and fired. I saw him do it. And I saw him drop.
“Now I have just one dollar and twenty-five cents left tied up in a
corner of my handkerchief. I was going to take that to cable one word.
It will cost me one dollar to cable “Safe,” but I have a mother who is
walking the streets of London waiting for that one word.”
The survivors of the Titanic are still paying a tribute without
precedent to the bravery of the men and women of the wrecked liner,
steerage passenger, stoker and millionaire.
Major Archibald Butt, U. S. A., military aide to President Taft, met
his death in a manner that fully justified the President’s estimation
of him as expressed in the eulogy given out at the White House, in
which the President tenderly referred to his late aide as a man “gentle
and considerate,” and as one who was “every inch a soldier.”
MAJOR BUTT AN OFFICER OF THE TITANIC.
From the moment that Captain Smith let it be known to his officers and
a few of the men passengers that the Titanic was doomed, Major Butt was
an officer of the Titanic.
He was here and there and everywhere, giving words of encouragement to
weeping women and children, and uttering, when necessary, commands to
keep weak-kneed men from giving in and rendering the awful situation
even more terrible.
That this was the manner in which Major Butt met death is certain.
Captain Charles E. Crain, of the Twenty-seventh United States Infantry,
was a passenger on the Carpathia, and when he learned that Major Butt
was among the dead, he made it his duty to get the true tale of his
comrade’s death.
“Naturally,” said Captain Crain, “I was deeply concerned in the fate of
Major Butt, for he was not only a fellow-officer of the army; but also
a personal friend of many years’ standing.
“I questioned those of the survivors who were in a condition to talk,
and from them I learned that Butt, when the Titanic struck, took his
position with the officers and from the moment that the order to man
the lifeboats was given until the last one was dropped into the sea, he
aided in the maintenance of discipline and the placing of the women and
children in the boats.
“Butt, I was told, was as cool as the iceberg that had doomed the ship,
and not once did he lose control of himself. In the presence of death
he was the same gallant, courteous officer that the American people had
learned to know so well as a result of his constant attendance upon
President Taft.
“There was never any chance of Butt getting into any of those
lifeboats. He knew his time was at hand, and he was ready to meet it as
a man should, and I and all of the others who cherish his memory are
glad that he faced the situation that way, which was the only possible
way a man of his calibre could face it.”
“This is a man’s game, and I will play it to the end,” was the word
that Benjamin Guggenheim, the millionaire smelter magnate, sent to his
wife from the ill-fated Titanic.
NO CHANCE OF ESCAPING.
The message was delivered to the stricken widow by John Johnson, the
room steward, to whom it was given. Guggenheim, Johnson said, realized
almost from the beginning that there was no chance of escaping. He sent
for Johnson, who he knew was an expert swimmer, and for his secretary,
and asked them if they should be saved to get word to Mrs. Guggenheim.
“Tell her, Johnson,” the steward relates, “that I played the game
straight and that no woman was left on board this ship because Benjamin
Guggenheim was a coward. Tell her that my last thoughts were of her and
the girls.”
Guggenheim, according to Johnson, lit a cigar and sauntered up to the
boat deck to help load the lifeboats. He afterward returned to the main
deck and was engulfed with the ship.
“Mr. Guggenheim was one of my charges,” said the steward anew. “He had
his secretary with him. His name was Giglio, I believe, an Armenian,
about twenty-four years old. Both died like men.
“When the crash came I awakened them and told them to get dressed. A
few minutes later I went into their rooms and helped them to get ready.
I put a life preserver on Mr. Guggenheim. He said it hurt him in the
back. There was plenty of time and I took it off, adjusted it, and then
put it on him again. It was all right this time.
“They wanted to get out on deck with only a few clothes on, but I
pulled a heavy sweater over Mr. Guggenheim’s lifebelt, and then they
both went out.
“They stayed together and I could see what they were doing. They were
going from one lifeboat to another helping the women and children.
Mr. Guggenheim would shout out, ‘Women first,’ and he was of great
assistance to the officers.
THERE WAS GREAT EXCITEMENT.
“Things weren’t so bad at first, but when I saw Mr. Guggenheim about
three-quarters of an hour after the crash there was great excitement.
What surprised me was that both Mr. Guggenheim and his secretary were
dressed in their evening clothes. They had deliberately taken off their
sweaters, and as nearly as I can remember they wore no lifebelts at all.
“‘What’s that for?’ I asked.
“‘We’ve dressed up in our best,’ replied Mr. Guggenheim, and are
prepared to go down like gentlemen.’ It was then he told me about the
message to his wife and that is what I have come here for.
“Well, shortly after the last few boats were lowered and I was ordered
by the deck officer to man an oar, I waved good-bye to Mr. Guggenheim,
and that was the last I saw of him and his secretary.”
Taking refuge on the bridge of the ill-fated Titanic, two little
children remained by the side of Captain Smith until that portion of
the big ship had been swept by water. Survivors of the crew who went
down with the Titanic, but were saved by clinging to an overturned
lifeboat, told of their gallant commander’s effort to save the life of
one of the children. He died a sailor’s death, and the little girl who
had intrusted her life to his care died with him.
“He held the little girl under one arm,” said James McGann, a fireman,
“as he jumped into the sea and endeavored to reach the nearest lifeboat
with the child. I took the other child into my arms as I was swept from
the bridge deck. When I plunged into the cold water I was compelled to
release my hold on the child, and I am satisfied that the same thing
happened to Captain Smith.
“I had gone to the bridge deck to assist in lowering a collapsible
boat. The water was then coming over the bridge, and we were unable
to launch the boat properly. It was overturned and was used as a life
raft, some thirty or more of us, mostly firemen, clinging to it.
Captain Smith looked as though he was trying to keep back the tears as
he thought of the doomed ship.
EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF.
“He turned to the men lowering the boat and shouted: ‘Well, boys, it’s
every man for himself.’ He then took one of the children standing by
him on the bridge and jumped into the sea. He endeavored to reach
the overturned boat, but did not succeed. That was the last I saw of
Captain Smith.”
Other graphic accounts of the final plunge of the Titanic were related
by two Englishmen, survivors by the merest chance. One of them
struggled for hours to hold himself afloat on an overturned collapsible
lifeboat, to one end of which John B. Thayer, Jr., of Philadelphia,
whose father perished, hung until rescued.
The men give their names as A. H. Barkworth, justice of the peace of
East Riding, Yorkshire, England, and W. J. Mellors, of Christ Church
Terrace, Chelsea, London. The latter, a young man, had started for this
country with his savings to seek his fortune, and lost all but his life.
Mellors says Captain Smith, of the Titanic, did not commit suicide. The
captain jumped from the bridge, Mellors declares, and he heard him say
to his officers and crew: “You have done your duty, boys. Now every man
for himself.”
Mellors and Barkworth, both declare there were three distinct
explosions before the Titanic broke in two, and bow section first, and
stern part last, settled with her human cargo into the sea.
Her four whistles kept up a deafening blast until the explosions,
declare the men. The death cries from the shrill throats of the
blatant steam screechers beside the smokestacks so rent the air that
conversation among the passengers was possible only when one yelled
into the ear of a fellow unfortunate.
“I did not know the Thayer family well,” declared Mr. Barkworth, “but I
had met young Thayer, a clean-cut chap, and his father on the trip. I
did not see Mr. Thayer throw his son from the ship, but the lad and I
struggled in the water for several hours endeavoring to hold afloat by
grabbing to the sides and end of an overturned lifeboat.
KEPT AFLOAT BY FUR OVERCOAT.
“I consider my fur overcoat helped to keep me afloat. I had a life
preserver under it, under my arms, but it would not have held me up so
well out of the water but for the coat. The fur of the coat seemed not
to get wet through and retained a certain amount of air that added to
buoyancy. I shall never part with it.
“The testimony of J. Bruce Ismay, managing director of the White Star
Line, that he had not heard explosions before the Titanic settled,
indicates that he must have gotten some distance from her in his
lifeboat.
“There were three distinct explosions and the ship broke in the centre.
The bow settled headlong first and the stern last. I was looking toward
her from the raft to which young Thayer and I had clung.
“I thought I was doomed to go down with the rest. I stood on the deck,
awaiting my fate, fearing to jump from the ship. Then came a grinding
noise, followed by two others, and I was hurled into the deep. Great
waves engulfed me, but I was not drawn toward the ship, so that I
believe there was little suction. I swam about for more than one hour
before I was picked up by a boat.”
Confirming the statements made by J. Bruce Ismay, managing director of
the White Star Line, before the Senatorial Investigating Committee in
New York, William E. Carter, of Philadelphia, who was saved, together
with his wife and two children, declared that J. Bruce Ismay had not
acted like a coward but instead had aided in placing women and children
in the boats and had gotten into the last one himself only after he had
failed to find any more women after calling for several minutes.
Mr. Carter related his experience on the Titanic from the time the ship
struck the mountain of ice until he left the ill-fated vessel on the
last lifeboat a short time before she went to her doom.
UNJUST TO MR. ISMAY.
Mr. Carter declared that the statements which have been made by many
persons regarding Mr. Ismay’s conduct were an injustice to him and
added that the head of the White Star Line felt extremely sad following
the collision and the subsequent sinking of the world’s largest steamer.
He said that while the lifeboat containing himself and Ismay was moving
away from the Titanic, Ismay rowed with two seamen and himself until
they sighted the Carpathia.
One of the most interesting statements made by Mr. Carter was that a
short time before he left the ship he spoke to Harry E. Widener and
advised him to get into one of the boats if he could. Mr. Widener
replied: “I think I’ll stick to the big ship, Billy, and take a chance.”
Relating his experiences, Mr. Carter said: “I was in the smoking
room for several hours prior to the collision with Major Archie
Butt, Colonel Gracie, Harry Widener, Mr. Thayer, Clarence Moore, of
Washington; William Dulles and several other men.
“At exactly seventeen minutes to 12 o’clock we felt a jar and left the
room to see what the trouble was outside. We were told that the ship
had struck an iceberg. Many of the men were in the card room, and after
learning what had happened returned to their games.
“The officers informed us that the accident was not a serious one, and
there was little excitement at the time. However, I went to the lower
deck, where Mrs. Carter and my two children were sleeping. I awoke my
wife and told her what had occurred and advised her to dress and take
the children to the deck.
“I then returned to the upper deck and found that the crew were
lowering lifeboats containing women and children. When Mrs. Carter and
the children came up I had them placed in one of the boats, which also
contained Mrs. Astor, Mrs. Widener, Mrs. Thayer and several other women.
WATER POURING INTO THE SHIP.
“I believed at the time that they would all return to the steamer in
a short time, feeling certain that there was no danger. A few minutes
later, however, I learned that water was pouring into the ship and that
she was in a serious condition. I saw Harry Widener and walked to where
he was standing on the port side of the Titanic. An order had been
given before the boats were launched to put on lifebelts, and I had
adjusted one around myself.
“I said to Mr. Widener, ‘Come on, Harry, let us go to the starboard
side and see if there is any chance to get in one of the boats.’
He replied, ‘I think I’ll stick to the big ship, Billy, and take a
chance.’ I left him there and went to the starboard side of A deck.
“There I saw Mr. Ismay and several officers filling the boats with
women. I aided them in the work, and as the last boat was being filled
we looked around for more women.
“The women that were in the boat were from the steerage with their
children. I guess there were about 40 of them. Mr. Ismay and myself and
several of the officers walked up and down the deck crying, ‘Are there
any more women here?’ We called for several minutes and got no answer.
“One of the officers then declared that if we wanted to we could
get into the boat if we took the place of seamen. He gave us this
preference because we were among the first-class passengers.
“Mr Ismay called again and after we got no reply we got into the
lifeboat. We took the oars and rowed with the two seamen. We were about
a mile away from the Titanic when she went down. It seemed to me that
it was less than a half hour.
“All the women were clad in thin clothes while I was in my evening
clothes, withtout a hat, and had on a pair of slippers. The night was a
dark one despite the fact that the stars were out. I looked around just
as the Titanic went down, being attracted by the explosions. Mr. Ismay
did not turn and look but instead was very quiet, pulling on the oars.
THE CARPATHIA SIGHTED.
“I don’t know how long we were in the boat. It seemed to be several
hours before we sighted the Carpathia. One of the women saw the steamer
with her lights standing out in the darkness. We then started toward
her. All this time I was fearing for my family, not knowing how they
fared after leaving the Titanic in the lifeboat.
“We reached the side of the Carpathia before dawn and were taken aboard
and given food and warmed. I do not know what became of Mr. Ismay, for
I saw my wife and children and hurried toward them. I can tell you I
was happy at that moment.
“On board the Carpathia we were taken care of excellently and treated
fine by the officers and passengers. As we were among the first taken
aboard we were given a little room. My wife and little girl slept in
the bunk, while I slept on the floor. It was a terrible experience and
one I never want to go through again.
“It was my intention, if I could not get into one of the boats, to leap
from the hurricane deck and swim to one of the boats.
“During the trip across I did not see any lifeboat drills, but this
may have been due to the fact that the members of the crew were new to
the boat and the fact that the officers thought her perfectly safe. I
believe that many more could have been saved if there had been more
boats.
“The men seemed to think that there was no immediate danger, and I
myself did not know whether to get into the boat with Mr. Ismay or not
until he said, ‘Come on, you might as well get aboard.’
“I desire to correct what has been said about him. He was perfectly
cool and collected and aided a great deal in keeping the women from
the steerage quiet. I will probably be called before the Senatorial
investigating committee, and I can only say that Mr. Ismay only left
the boat after he saw there were no more women on the deck.
“He called and so did I and we found none. I heard no shooting while I
was on the Titanic, but do not know what happened after I left on the
last boat.”
“Billy” Carter, his ten-year-old son, told of his experience after he
was awakened by his mother and dressed.
“Mamma woke me just after it happened,” he said “and papa hurried
to our rooms. While mamma and sister were dressing I got dressed as
quickly as I could. She told me to be a brave boy, and we all went to
the upper deck.
“All the women were on one side and the men on the other. The officers
held revolvers in their hands. We were placed in one of the boats and
rowed around for an awful long time until everybody began to worry and
think we would not be picked up. Mamma helped to row our boat, and in
the morning we sighted the big ship Carpathia and were taken on board.
I felt cold, but we soon got warm and got something to eat. Then a
short time later papa came on board.”
CHAPTER XV.
BOY’S DESPERATE FIGHT FOR LIFE.
Plunged Into Icy Sea--Did Not See Berg--Parted From Parents--Saw Many
Jump Overboard--Leaped Into Ocean--Eight Year Old Boy’s Narrative--Was
“Very Quiet After He Was In Boat”--Another Lad Tells How He Saw His
Uncle Die.
John B. Thayer, the seventeen-year-old son of Mrs. John B. Thayer, gave
a thrilling account of the sinking of the Titanic in which his father
lost his life.
Mrs. Thayer was saved in one of the lifeboats, while her son was
rescued after a most exciting experience on an upturned boat, upon
which he clambered after struggling on the icy water for some time.
According to Thayer’s account there was an explosion as the Titanic
sank, this explosion forcing him a considerable distance and probably
saving him from being drawn in by the suction as the steamer went down.
His statement follows:
“Father was in bed and mother and myself were about to get into bed.
There was no great shock. I was on my feet at the time, and I do not
think it was enough to throw anyone down.
“I put on an overcoat and rushed up on ‘A’ deck on the port side. I saw
nothing there. I then went forward to the bow to see if I could see any
signs of ice. The only ice I saw was on the well deck.
“I could not see very far ahead, having just come out of a brilliantly
lighted room. I then went down to our room and my father and mother
came on deck with me, to the starboard side of ‘A’ deck. We could not
see anything there. Father thought he saw small pieces of ice floating
around, but I could not see any myself. There was no big berg.
“We walked around to the port side and the ship had then a fair list
to port. We stayed there looking over the side for about five minutes.
The list seemed very slowly to be increasing. We then went down to
our rooms on ‘C’ deck, all of us dressed quickly, putting on all our
clothes.
“We all put on life preservers, including the maid, and over these
we put our overcoats. Then we hurried up on deck and walked around,
looking out at different places until the women were all ordered to
collect on the port side. Father and I said good-bye to mother at the
top of the stairs on ‘A’ deck on the port side and we went to the
starboard side.
“As at this time we had no idea the boat would sink, we walked around
‘A’ deck and then went to ‘B’ deck. Then we thought we would go back to
see if mother had gotten off safely, and went to the port side of ‘A’
deck. We met the chief of the main dining saloon and he told us that
mother had not yet taken a boat and he took us to her.
FATHER LOST SIGHT OF FOREVER.
“Father and mother went ahead and I followed. They went down to ‘B’
deck, and a crowd got in front of me and I was not able to catch them,
and lost sight of them. As soon as I could get through the crowd I
tried to find them on ‘B’ deck, but without success. That is the last
time I saw my father.
“This was about one-half hour before she sank. I then went to the
starboard side, thinking that father and mother must have gotten off in
a boat. All of this time I was with a fellow named Milton C. Long, of
New York, whom I had just met that evening.
“On the starboard side the boats were getting away quickly. Some boats
were already off in a distance. We thought of getting into one of the
boats, the last boat to go on the forward part of the starboard side,
but there seemed to be such a crowd around I thought it unwise to make
any attempt to get into it.
“He and I stood by the davits of one of the boats that had left. I did
not notice anybody that I knew, except Mr. Lindley, whom I had also
just met that evening. I lost sight of him in a few minutes. Long and
I then stood by the rail just a little aft of the captain’s bridge.
“The list to the port had been growing greater all the time. About this
time the people began jumping from the stern.
“I thought of jumping myself, but was afraid of being stunned on
hitting the water. Three times I made up my mind to jump out and slide
down the davit ropes and try to make the boats that were lying off from
the ship, but each time Long got hold of me and told me to wait a while.
“He then sat down and I stood up waiting to see what would happen. Even
then we thought she might possibly stay afloat.
“I got a sight on a rope between the davits and a star and noticed
that she was gradually sinking. About this time she straightened up on
an even keel and started to go down fairly fast at an angle of about
thirty degrees.
SAYS GOOD-BYE TO EACH OTHER.
“As she started to sink we left the davits and went back and stood
by the rail about even with the second funnel. Long and myself said
good-bye to each other and jumped up on the rail. He put his legs over
and held on a minute and asked me if I was coming.
“I told him I would be with him in a minute. He did not jump clear, but
slid down the side of the ship. I never saw him again.
“About five seconds after he jumped I jumped out, feet first. I was
clear of the ship, bent down, and as I came up I was pushed away from
the ship by some force. I came up facing the ship, and one of the
funnels seemed to be lifted off and fell towards me, about 15 yards
away, with a mass of sparks and steam coming out of it.
“I saw the ship in a sort of a red glare, and it seemed to me that
she broke in two just in front of the third funnel. At this time I
was sucked down, and as I came up I was pushed out again and twisted
around by a large wave, coming up in the midst of a great deal of small
wreckage.
“As I pushed it from around my head my hand touched the cork fender of
an overturned lifeboat. I looked up, saw some men on the top and asked
them to give me a hand. One of them, who was a stoker, helped me up. In
a short time the bottom was covered with about 25 or 30 men.
“When I got on this I was facing the ship. The stern then seemed to
rise in the air and stopped at about an angle of 60 degrees. It seemed
to hold there for a time and then, with a hissing sound, it shot right
down out of sight with people jumping from the stern.
“The stern either pivoted around towards our boat or we were sucked
towards it, and as we only had one oar we could not keep away. There
did not seem to be very much suction and most of us managed to stay on
the bottom of our boat.
“We were then right in the midst of fairly large wreckage, with people
swimming all around us. The sea was very calm and we kept the boat
pretty steady, but every now and then a wave would wash over it.
SANG A HYMN AND SAID THE LORD’S PRAYER.
“The assistant wireless operator was right next to me, holding on to
me and kneeling in the water. We all sang a hymn and said the Lord’s
prayer, and then waited for dawn to come.
“As often as we saw the other boats in a distance we would yell ‘Ship
ahoy!’ but they could not distinguish our cries from any others so
we all gave it up, thinking it useless. It was very cold and none of
us were able to move around to keep warm, the water washing over her
almost all the time.
“Towards dawn the wind sprang up roughing up the water and making it
difficult to keep the boat balanced. The wireless man raised our hopes
a great deal by telling us that the Carpathia would be up in about
three hours. About three thirty or four o’clock some men on our boat on
the bow sighted her mast lights.
“I could not see them as I was sitting down with a man kneeling on my
leg. He finally got up and I stood up. We had the second officer, Mr.
Lightholler, on board. We had an officer’s whistle and whistled for the
boats in the distance to come up and take us off.
“It took about an hour and a half for the boats to draw near. Two boats
came up. The first took half and the other took the balance, including
myself.
“We had great difficulty about this time in balancing the boat, as the
men would lean too far, but were all taken aboard the already crowded
boat and in about a half or three-quarters of an hour later we were
picked up by the Carpathia.
“I have noticed second officer Lightholler’s statement that ‘J. B.
Thayer was on our overturned boat,’ which would give the impression
that it was father, when he really meant it was I, as he only learned
my name in subsequent conversation on the Carpathia and did not know I
was ‘Junior.’”
Little Arthur Olsen, eight years old, said that America was a pretty
good place, and that he was going to like it.
TOOK CARE OF HIM IN THE LIFEBOAT.
Arthur came to that conclusion because so many people had been good to
him. First there was Fritzjof Madsen, one of the survivors, who took
care of him in the lifeboat.
Then Miss Jean Campbell gave him hot coffee and sandwiches and propped
him comfortably against some clothing while she busied herself with
others.
Mrs. William K. Vanderbilt, Jr., next appeared with two nice, big men,
put him in a taxi with Miss Campbell and sent him to a hot bath and bed
at the Lisa Day Nursery, No. 458 West Twentieth street, New York. And
the next morning Miss Florence Hayden taught him kindergarten songs and
dances with her class.
Later Arthur’s stepmother, Mrs. Esther Olson of No. 978 Hart street,
Brooklyn, appeared and clasped him in her arms. Her husband, Arthur’s
father, Charlie Olsen, perished in the wreck.
Mrs. Olsen had never seen Arthur, because after Charlie Oslen’s first
wife died in Trondhjem, Norway, leaving the little baby Arthur, he had
come to America, where he married again.
A while ago Olsen crossed to see about the settlement of an estate
and to bring his son home. He and the boy were in the steerage of the
Titanic.
Arthur is a sturdy, quiet-faced little chap with red hair, freckles and
a ready smile. He speaks only Norwegian, but Mrs. Olsen translated for
him when he told his story.
“I was with papa on the boat,” said the youngster timidly, “and then
something was the matter. Papa said I should hurry up and go into the
boat and be a good boy. We had a friend, Fritzjof Madsen, with us from
our town, and he told me to go too.
“The ship was kind of shivering and everybody was running around. We
kept getting quite close down to the water, and the water was quiet,
like a lake.
THE LAST BOY SAW OF PAPA.
“Then I got into a boat and that was all I saw of papa. I saw a lot of
people floating around drowning or trying to snatch at our boat. Then
all of a sudden I saw Mr. Madsen swimming next to the boat and he was
pulled in. He took good care of me.
“In our boat everybody was crying and sighing. I kept very quiet. One
man got very crazy, then cried just like a little baby. Another man
jumped right into the sea and he was gone.
“It was awful cold in the boat, but I was dressed warm, like we dress
in Norway. I had to put on my clothes, when my papa told me to on the
big ship. I couldn’t talk to anybody, because I don’t understand the
language. Only Mr. Madsen talked to me and told me not to be afraid,
and I wasn’t afraid. Mr. Madsen was shivering in his wet clothes, but
he got all right after the Carpathia came.”
A bright-faced boy of eight walked up and down in front of Blake’s Star
Hotel at No. 57 Clarkson street, New York, the day after the Carpathia
arrived. He was Marshall Drew of Greenport, L. I., one of the survivors
of the Titanic.
“It all seems just like the bad dreams that I used to have,” he
confided. “I never want to go to England again. I went over there with
my uncle and aunt, Mr. and Mrs. James Drew, to Visit my grandpa. We had
a good time in England and started back on the Titanic.
“The night of the wreck my aunt woke me and said she was going to dress
me and take me out on deck. I was sleepy and didn’t want to get up. I
could hear funny noises all over the ship and sometimes a woman talking
loud out in the corridor. My aunt didn’t pay any attention to what I
said but hurried me into my clothes and rushed me with her up to the
deck.
“There every one was running about. Some of the men were laughing and
saying there was no danger. They were taking all the women and hurrying
them into the boats along with the children. We could not see what for.
I thought at first that we had got home.
WAS HURRIED INTO A BOAT.
“Aunt Lulu put me into the boat and then stood back with Uncle James,
and in a moment some one had hurried her into the boat, too, and we
went down the side, Uncle James waving his hand at us and Aunt Lulu
standing up and looking at him.
“Then the boat pulled away from the ship and there was a lot of talk
and screaming. We were a long time on the water and were finally picked
up by the Carpathia.”
Marshall and his aunt were saved. They were met at the pier by his
grandfather, Mr. Henry P. Christian, of Greenport, and with his aunt
were taken to the hotel along with other survivors of the second cabin.
Miss Emily Rugg, 20 years old, of the Isle of Guernsey, England, told a
graphic story of the sinking.
Miss Rugg, who was one of the second class passengers, was met in New
York by her uncle, F. W. Queripel, a grocer. The young woman was on her
way to visit relatives.
She was asleep when the ship struck the berg, and the jar aroused her.
Looking out she saw a mass of ice. Throwing a coat about her, she went
on deck and saw lifeboats being lowered.
Returning to the cabin, she dressed, and then went to an adjoining
cabin and aroused two women friends.
Following this Miss Rugg ran up on deck and was taken in charge by some
of the crew, who dragged her toward a lifeboat. She was lifted into the
third from the last which left the ship.
She said that there seemed to be nearly seventy-five persons in the
boat and that it was very much crowded. In the meantime a panic had
started among those who remained on board the Titanic.
An Italian jumped from the steerage deck and fell into a lifeboat,
landing upon a woman who had a baby in her arms.
Miss Rugg saw the Titanic go down and declares but for the horror of it
all, it might have been termed one of the grandest sights she ever saw.
SHIP TAKES ITS FINAL PLUNGE.
The boat seemed to have broken in half, and with all the lights burning
brightly, the stern arose into the air, the lights being extinguished
as it did so. A moment later the ship plunged beneath the surface.
Karl H. Behr, the well known tennis player, who went to Australia in
1910 with the American team, was one of the Titanic survivors.
He was graduated from Yale in 1906 and later from Columbia, where he
took a law degree. This is his statement of his experiences on the
night of the disaster.
“We were a party of four, Mr. and Mrs. R. L. Beckwith, Mrs. Beckwith’s
daughter, Miss Helen W. Newsom, and myself. Mr. Beckwith and I had
stayed up in the smoking room. We left just before it closed for the
night.
“I went to my stateroom and only partly undressed when I felt a
distinct jar run through the whole vessel, which quivered all over. It
was distinct enough for me to be certain that we had hit something. I
dressed again immediately, my first thought and purpose being to reach
my party at once.”
Mr. Behr told of assembling his party and added:
“I knew exactly where the lifeboats were, so Miss Newsom and I and Mr.
and Mrs. Beckwith went to the top deck. We waited quietly while the
first boat filled and was lowered. It appeared to me to be quite full.
“We then went to the second boat, which was quite full. Mr. Ismay was
directing its launching. When Mrs. Beckwith came to the edge of the
lifeboat, which was hanging over the sides, she asked Mr. Ismay before
attempting to get in whether her men could go with her, and I heard him
reply quietly, ‘Why certainly, madam.’ We then got into the boat.
“After we were in the boat we heard Mr. Ismay calling out and asking if
there were any more passengers to go in the boat.
THE LAST PASSENGERS ON TOP DECK.
“There were none, and we must have waited at least three minutes or
more before he ordered an officer into the boat and two or three more
of the crew who were alone on deck and under perfect control. We were
evidently the last passengers on the top deck, as we could see no
others.
“Most fortunately for us, when we left the ship everything was
handled in perfect discipline, Mr. Ismay launching our lifeboat in a
most splendid fashion, with absolute coolness, making sure that all
passengers were on board and that our crew was complete. What happened
later we know little about.
“As far as I am concerned I saw no signs of a panic and not one person
in our boat lost his head, nor do I know of a single person being left
behind on the top deck.”
George A. Harder, of No. 117 Eighth avenue, Brooklyn, who with his
bride was saved from the Titanic, told at his home a graphic story of
his experience.
“When the crash came my wife and I were in our stateroom, about to
retire,” said Harder. “Suddenly there came what seemed like a low, long
groan at the ship’s bottom. It did not sound like a collision.
“Taking my wife by the arm, I rushed to the deck. Passengers were
already swarming there, asking what had happened.
“I heard an officer order a carpenter below to ascertain the damage. He
never returned. That the officers already knew the ship was likely to
founder was evident from the fact that one lifeboat containing among
others Karl M. Behr, the Brooklyn tennis player, had been launched.
Persons on our side of the boat--the starboard side--were climbing into
a second boat.
“It was a bitter cold night. The stars were bright and their rays were
reflected in the surrounding sea, which was as smooth as glass. Farther
and farther we drifted away in the lifeboat, leaving behind us the
doomed ship.
BLOWN TO SAFETY BY EXPLOSION.
“Suddenly there sounded from the Titanic the strains of ‘The
Star-Spangled Banner.’ As I glanced back at the mighty vessel in the
glare of her lights I saw Col. Archibald Gracie clinging to a brass
rail near one of the forward funnels. I afterward learned the explosion
of the boilers blew him out of the vortex of the sucked in water to
calmer water, where he was rescued.
“Gradually the distance between the Titanic and our lifeboat increased.
Her lights continued to gleam, her band to play. Two hours later, as
she loomed a dark mass on the horizon, her lights suddenly went out.
Then across the water, mingling with the strains of ‘Nearer, My God, to
Thee,’ came the distressing cries of those about to die.
“Out of the jumble of foreign tongues could be distinguished the
shrieks of steerage women who were grouped at the aft end of the boat.
And above all the sounds, like a benediction, sounded that hymn. It
was nameless anguish to us to sit in that open boat and realize our
helplessness to aid those about to die. We forgot our own losses, our
own sufferings. Only a few of us dared to look at the mighty ship as,
bow first, she plunged beneath the surface.”
Harder denied that many passengers were shot. He said he knows three
Italians were killed, but by whom he does not know.
Police Magistrate Robert C. Cornell, whose wife and her two sisters,
Mrs. Edward Appleton and Mrs. John Murray Brown, of Denver, were among
those rescued from the Titanic, told her story.
“Mrs. Cornell,” said the Magistrate, “is of the same opinion as many
others of the survivors, that many of the lifeboats left the side of
the Titanic before they had nearly their capacity.
“Mrs. Cornell, with Mrs. Appleton, was assigned a place in the second
boat. This boat when it was lowered contained twenty-three persons
and she says there was room for at least seventeen more without
overcrowding. In fact, all of the boats, my wife says, could have
carried many more passengers with safety.
“There were three oars in the boat in which my wife and Mrs. Appleton
were put, and no food or water or covering of any sort to keep out
the cold. The crew of this boat consisted of one sailor and one petty
officer.
“When the boat was lowered an Italian was seen struggling in the water
and he was picked up. The three men then each took an oar and did the
best they could.
“Mrs. Cornell and her sister, who have a slight knowledge of rowing,
took turns at the oars, as did the other women in the boat, and after
drifting about in the sea for about four hours were picked up by the
Carpathia.
“Miss Edith Evans, a niece of Mrs. Cornell and her sisters were
traveling with them, and she and Mrs. Brown were assigned to places in
one of the boats which left after the one in which Mrs. Cornell and
Mrs. Appleton were placed.
“When this boat was about to be lowered it was found that it contained
one more passenger than it could carry. Then the question came as to
who should leave.
“Miss Evans, a handsome girl of twenty-five, said to Mrs. Brown that
she had children at home and should be the one to remain. Miss Evans
left the boat saying she would take a chance of getting in a boat
later.
CHAPTER XVI.
CARPATHIA TO THE RESCUE.
Cunarder’s Race to Titanic’s Aid--Captain Rostrom’s Unvarnished
but Dramatic Report--Knot in Operator’s Shoelace Saved Hundreds of
Lives--Was About to Retire, but Slight Delay Enabled Him to Hear
Message--Icebergs Defied in Desperate Rush.
Before the Carpathia sailed once again on her sadly interrupted voyage
to the Mediterranean, Captain A. H. Rostrom made public the report
he has sent to the Cunard Company telling an unvarnished tale of the
rescue of the Titanic survivors. The report written on the regular
stationery of the Carpathia, reads:
R. M. S. Carpathia,
April 19, 1912.
General Manager Cunard Steamship Company, Ltd., Liverpool.
Sir: I beg to report that at 12.34 A. M. on the 15th inst. I was
informed of urgent distress message from Titanic, with her position.
I immediately ordered ship turned around and put in course for that
position; we being then fifty-eight miles S. 42 E. (T) from her. Had
heads of all departments called and issued what I considered the
necessary orders to be in preparation for any emergency.
At 2.40 A. M., saw flare half a point on port bow, taking this for
granted to be ship. Shortly after we sighted our first iceberg (I had
previously had lookouts doubled, knowing that Titanic had struck ice,
and so took every care and precaution).
We soon found ourselves in a field of bergs, large and small, and had
to alter course several times to clear bergs; weather fine clear,
light airs, calm sea, beautifully clear night, though dark.
We stopped at 4 A. M., thus doing distance in three hours and a half,
picking up the first boat at 4.10 A. M.; boat in charge of an officer
and he reported to me that Titanic had foundered.
At 8.30 A. M. last boat picked up. All survivors aboard and all
boats accounted for, viz fifteen lifeboats alongside, one lifeboat
abandoned, two Berthon boats alongside (saw one bottom upward among
wreckage) and according to second officer not been launched, it having
got jammed, making sixteen lifeboats and four Berthon boats accounted
for.
By the time we had cleared first boat it was breaking day, and we
could distinguish the other boats all within an area of four miles.
We also saw that we were surrounded by icebergs, large and small, and
three miles to the N. W. of us a huge field of drift ice with large
and small bergs in it, the ice field trending from N. W. round by W.
and S. to S. E., as far as we could see either way.
PROMPT IN RESCUE WORK.
At 8 A. M. the Leyland S. S. California came up. I gave him the
principal news and asked him to search and I would proceed to New
York; at 8.50 proceeded full speed. While searching over vicinity of
disaster and while we were getting people aboard I gave orders to get
Spare hands along and swing in all our boats, disconnect the falls and
hoist us as many Titanic boats as possible in our davits; also, get
some on fo’castle deck by derricks. We got thirteen lifeboats, six on
forward deck and seven in davits.
After getting all survivors aboard and while searching I got a
clergyman to offer a short prayer of thankfulness for those saved and
also a short burial service for those lost.
Before deciding definitely where to make for I conferred with Mr.
Ismay, and though he told me to do what I thought best I informed him,
taking everything into consideration, I considered New York best.
I knew we should require more provisions, clean linen, blankets and so
forth, even if we went to the Azores.
As most of the passengers saved were women and children, and they were
very hysterical, and not knowing what medical attention they might
require, thought it best to go to New York; also thought it would be
better for Mr. Ismay to get to New York or England as soon as possible
and knowing that I should be out of wireless communication with
anything very soon if I proceeded to the Azores.
Again, passengers were all hysterical about ice, and pointed out to
Mr. Ismay the possibility of seeing ice if we went to Halifax. Then I
knew from the gravity of the disaster that it would be desirable to
keep in touch with land stations all we could.
THE MAJORITY OF THE WOMEN LOSE THEIR HUSBANDS.
I am pleased to say that all survivors have been very plucky. The
majority of the women, first, second and third classes lost their
husbands, and considering all have been wonderfully well. Tuesday our
doctor reported all survivors physically well.
Our first class passengers have behaved splendidly, giving up the
cabins quite voluntarily and supplying the ladies with clothes and so
forth. We all turned out of our cabins to give them up to survivors,
saloons, smokerooms, library and so forth also being used for sleeping
accommodations. Our crew also turned out to let the crew of the
Titanic take their quarters.
I am pleased to state that owing to preparations made for the comfort
of the survivors none are the worse for exposure and so forth.
I beg to specially mention how willingly and cheerfully the whole of
the ship’s company have behaved throughout, receiving the highest
praise from everybody, and I can assure you, that I am very proud to
have such a ship’s company under my command.
We have experienced very great difficulty in transmitting news, also
names of survivors. Our wireless is very poor, and again, we have had
so many interruptions from other ships, and also messages from shore
(principally press, which we ignored). I gave instructions to send
first all official messages, then names of passengers, then survivors’
private messages, and the last press messages, as I considered the
three first items most important and necessary.
We had haze early Tuesday morning for several hours; again
more or less all Wednesday from 5.30 A. M. to 5 P. M. Strong
south-southwesterly winds and clear weather Tuesday with moderate
rough sea.
Bearing the survivors of the ill-fated Titanic and with them the
first detailed news of the most terrible catastrophe of the sea, the
steamship Carpathia, vessel of woe, bore up through the narrows of
the harbor of New York, and tied up at the Cunard pier whence it had
sailed less than a week before.
LIKE A FUNERAL SHIP.
Silently as a funeral ship the Carpathia sped. Passengers and crew
lined the upper decks. From portholes peered the faces of scores.
But no cheer such as usually comes at the end of a cruise was heard.
The lights shone brilliantly from every port and from the upper decks,
but the big vessel moved silently, almost spectral in its appearance.
There was all the speed at the vessel’s command in its approach. Moving
in from the open sea, the liner turned its prow up the channel toward
the spot where the reflection in the sky showed the presence of the
great city.
At full speed she bore northward between the twinkling lights on shore.
There were sick on board and their condition did not permit of delay.
To the dismal souls on board, the weather must have seemed peculiarly
fitting.
All day the vessel had raced before a half a gale which beat fiercely
against her prow as her course was changing northward. The rain fell
heavily and was blown in gusts that defied protecting shelter.
Spray flew from the waves and was thrown in showers as high as the top
of the huge bulwarks.
Such good headway had the Carpathia made, that she docked fully two
hours before it had been expected. All day heavy fog had hung over the
lower bay and it was reported that the weather was heavy and thick
outside.
Officers of the Cunard and White Star Lines, from their offices
on Lower Broadway, informed the anxious hundreds who appealed for
information that the boat would not be in until probably one or two
o’clock in the morning. Tug skippers, shipping men and the weather-wise
made wagers among themselves, over the time the Carpathia would arrive.
There were many who predicted confidently that the sorrow-laden liner
would not be able to come up the channel before the dawn.
CARPATHIA’S WELCOME RETURN.
At 6 o’clock in the morning the wireless flashed to the shore that the
Carpathia was abreast of the Nantucket light ship. This is 187 miles
from Ambrose Light, at the entrance to the Channel. The Carpathia is
rated as a thirteen knot boat, and it was not believed port would be
reached until at least 11 o’clock at night.
But a favorable wind beat upon the ship that was bringing home the
grief-stricken women who had sailed so joyously on the Titanic. The
gale that beat the waves, also hurried the ship on the last leg to
port. It seemed that Captain Rostrom, in command, anticipating possibly
that fog might make dangerous a trip up the channel in the night, had
wished to avoid the scores of tugs that he knew would be sent to meet
him.
In consequence, the first word that came from Fire Island Light was
vague and uncertain. They knew only that a great vessel, lighted
from stem to stern, was approaching the harbor, but whether it was
the Carpathia, the Mauretania or some other liner, could not be
ascertained.
But when the vessel came opposite Ambrose Light, there was no longer
any doubt. From Sandy Hook to Quarantine and to all the stations up the
channel the word was flashed that the Carpathia was coming. From the
Battery to the Bronx the news spread and sent thousands hurrying toward
the great Cunard docks.
Then the tugs began snorting and steaming as they pushed the large hulk
around in midstream. Slowly she yielded until headed straight toward
the slip.
The slow process was accomplished while a dozen other tugs pressed
their noses against the sides, and those on board tried vainly to get
some connected descriptions of the great catastrophe that stunned the
peoples of two continents.
Their efforts were largely futile. The passengers were too far away for
their voices to carry well. The crew, acting under instructions, which,
rightly or wrongly, have been credited by persons here to the desires
of J. Bruce Ismay, the White Star Line chief, who escaped in one of the
boats from the Titanic, refused to give any information they may have
procured.
While the ship was being docked, the photographers on the tugs were
active. Flash after flash shot across the water as the camera men took
their pictures.
Finally the Carpathia was fast at her dock, and the gangways were
lowered to let the sorrow-laden survivors ashore to receive the welcome
that awaited them.
CHAPTER XVII.
REFUSED TO LEAVE HUSBAND.
“Where You Are I Shall Be,” Said Mrs. Isidor Straus--He Begged Her in
Vain to Enter the Waiting Lifeboat--Women Row Lifeboats--Stokers no
Oarsmen--Crazed Men Rescued--Collapsible Boats Failed to Work.
The story of how Mrs. Isidor Straus, wife of the New York merchant, met
death with her husband on the Titanic rather than be separated from
him, was rendered complete when Miss Ellen Bird, maid to Mrs. Straus,
told how the self-sacrifice of Mrs. Straus made it possible for her to
escape a watery grave.
Miss Bird also supplied details of the appealing scenes between Mrs.
Straus and her husband when the elderly though heroic woman brushed
aside three opportunities to be saved, declaring to solicitous
passengers that death in her husband’s arms was more to be desired than
life without him.
Miss Bird’s narrative was repeated by Sylvester Byrnes, general manager
of R. H. Macy & Co. He said:
“When the Titanic struck the iceberg Mr. and Mrs. Straus were walking
arm in arm on the upperdeck. Although assured by the officers that
there was no immediate cause for alarm, Mrs. Straus, with her husband,
hurried to the stateroom of her maid, cautioning Miss Bird to dress
hurriedly and as comfortably as she could, because the passengers might
have to take to the lifeboats. Then Mr. and Mrs. Straus returned to the
deck, where, shortly after, they were joined by Miss Bird.
“Mr. Straus stepped aside when the first boat was being filled,
explaining that he could not go until all the women and children had
been given places. ‘Where you are, Papa, I shall be,’ spoke up Mrs.
Straus, rejecting all entreaties to enter the boat.
“Mr. Straus vainly attempted to persuade his wife to enter the second
boat, assuring her that eventually he would find a place after all the
women and children had been taken off.
“Miss Bird, who was making her first trip across, having been engaged
in London by Mrs. Straus, joined other passengers in urging Mrs. Straus
to enter the boat, but she clung closer to her husband and repeated
previous declarations that unless Mr. Straus accompanied her she would
remain behind. Mr. Straus only shook his head.
“One after another the boats were lowered. Finally that in which Mrs.
John Jacob Astor was rescued was made ready. ‘Here is a place for you,
Mrs. Straus!’ cried Mrs. Astor. Mrs. Straus only shrank closer to her
husband.
“Several passengers, at least two of them being women, attempted to
force Mrs. Straus into the boat, but she cried out against separation
from her husband and ordered her maid, Miss Bird, to take the place
beside Mrs. Astor.
“‘You go,’ said Mrs. Straus to the maid. ‘I must stay with my husband.’
CLASPED IN EACH OTHERS ARMS.
“Seeing it was useless to argue with Mrs. Straus, several men
passengers lifted Miss Bird into the boat, which was lowered with all
haste. As this boat and two others, comprising the last to leave the
vessel, glided across the waters into the black night the last glimpse
caught of Mr. and Mrs. Straus showed them standing on the deck, clasped
in each other’s arms, weeping.”
Mr. and Mrs. C. E. Henry Stengel, of Newark, N. J., received the
congratulations of friends on their rescue in their home at Broad
street and Lincoln Park.
Mr. and Mrs. Stengel left the Titanic in different boats. Mr. Stengel
first saw his wife safely aboard one boat, then assisted other women to
leave. As a small boat, half full, was being lowered, Mr. Stengel says
he asked the officer in charge if he should come aboard.
“He replied, ‘Sure, come on in,’ said Mr. Stengel.
“I jumped and was rolled along the bottom of the boat. The man in
charge said, ‘That’s the funniest drop I have seen in a long while.’
“Every one in the boat was laughing. There was no real thought of
danger among the passengers, and we all expected to return to the
steamer within a few hours.
“In our boat was Sir Cosmo and Lady Duff-Gordon, Miss Francatolla, A.
L. Solomon, three stokers and two sailors. We tried to keep near the
other boats, but, finding it hard to do so, tied three of the boats
together.
An officer on one of the boats had provided himself with some blue
fire, and so when the Carpathia arrived at the scene we were the second
or third boat to be picked up.
“I cannot tell the time of events. For a long time after we left the
Titanic her lights were all burning, and we were trying to keep as
close as possible to her. She settled so slowly that I did not notice
anything unusual, until suddenly all the lights of the steamer went out.
CAPTAIN KEEPS EVERY BODY IN GOOD SPIRITS.
“Then I realized that every one was in danger. I saw the captain twice
after the collision with the iceberg. His face showed great anxiety,
but his words were so reassuring that every one kept in good spirits.”
Mrs. Stengel said:
“When the shock came I was retiring. At first I was not going to leave
the stateroom, but we heard some loud talking, and Mr. Stengel urged
me to go. I put on a coat and tied a veil over my head. He put on his
trousers and wore a coat. As we reached the deck a loud order was given
of ‘Women and children into the lifeboats!’ There did not appear to be
any danger, but my husband insisted I should get into one of the boats.
He walked away and I could see him assisting other women into boats.
“Suddenly our boat was lowered. I could still see my husband, and waved
my veil, and he waved a handkerchief. Our boat was crowded with women.
There were three stokers and one officer. The stokers knew nothing
about the use of oars, and we women took the oars.
“We stayed close by another boat in which three Chinamen had been found
lying face down at the bottom of the boat. They could not be made to do
anything. There was little alarm. The band was playing on the steamer
and most every one wished to get back.
“Suddenly the lights on the steamer went out, and then we realized what
had happened. At first several of the boats kept together, as there was
something in the distance that appeared to be a light. We all tried to
get to the light, but after an hour or so found that it was simply some
light reflection from the tip of an iceberg.
“Just before leaving the steamer I saw Col. Astor. He was with his
wife, and was insisting that she get into a lifeboat that was being
filled. She seemed to resist, and Mr. Astor picked her up and put her
in a seat. He was smiling all the time. There was some difficulty in
the next boat, and Col. Astor was laughing as he helped several women
into the boat.
ALL THE MEN ACTED CALMLY AND CHEERFULLY.
“All the men among the passengers, so far as I could see, acted calmly,
cheerfully, masterfully. Among the stokers and others who were sent to
man the lifeboats there were many cowards.”
Mrs. Emily Richards, who with her mother and her two children was on
the Titanic, journeying from Penzance, Cornwall, to join her husband in
Akron, O., said:
“I had put the children in bed and had gone to bed myself. We had
been making good time all day, the ship rushing through the sea at a
tremendous rate, and the air on deck was cold and crisp. I didn’t hear
the collision, for I was asleep. But my mother came and shook me.
“‘There is surely danger,’ said mamma. ‘Something has gone wrong.’
“So we put on our slippers and outside coats and got the children into
theirs and went on deck. We had on our night gowns under our coats. As
we went up the stairway some one was shouting down in a calm voice:
‘Everybody put on their life preservers before coming on deck!’
“We went back and put them on, assuring each other that it was nothing.
When we got on deck we were told to pass through the dining room to a
ladder that was placed against the side of the cabins and led to the
upper deck.
“We were put through the portholes into the boats, and the boat I was
in had a foot of water in it. As soon as we were in we were told to sit
down on the bottom. In that position we were so low that we could not
see out over the gunwale.
“Once the boat had started away some of the women stood up, and the
seamen, with their hands full with the oars, simply put their feet on
them and forced them back into the sitting position.
“We had not got far away by the time the ship went down, and after that
there were men floating in the water all around, and seven of them were
picked up by us in the hours that followed between that and daybreak.
MAD WITH EXPOSURE.
“Some of these seven were already mad with exposure, and babbled
gibberish, and kept trying to get up and overturn the boat. The other
men had to sit upon them to hold them down.
“Two of the men picked up were so overcome with the cold of the water
that they died before we reached the Carpathia, and their dead bodies
were taken aboard. One woman, who spoke a tongue none of us could
understand, was picked up by the boat and believed that her children
were lost.
“She was entirely mad. When her children were brought to her on the
Carpathia she was wild with joy, and lay down on the children on the
floor, trying to cover them with her body, like a wild beast protecting
its young, and they had to take her children away from her for the time
to save them from being suffocated.”
Miss Caroline Bonnell, of Youngstown, O., one of the survivors, said
that passengers who got into lifeboats were led to believe that a
steamship was near and that the lives of all would be saved.
Miss Bonnell and her aunt, Miss Lily Bonnell, of London, England,
were traveling with George D. Wick, an iron and steel manufacturer of
Youngstown, his wife and daughter, Mary Natalie Wick. The women were
saved. Mr. Wick went down with the ship. Like hundreds of others, he
stood aside to give the women and children first chance.
“Miss Wick and I occupied a stateroom together,” said Miss Bonnell. “We
were awakened shortly before midnight by a sudden shock, a grinding
concussion. Miss Wick arose and looked out of the stateroom window. She
saw some men playfully throwing particles of ice at one another, and
realized that we had struck an iceberg.
“She and I dressed, not hastily, for we were not greatly alarmed, and
went on deck.
“There we found a number of passengers. Naturally they were all
somewhat nervous, but there was nothing approaching a panic. The other
members of our party also had come on deck, and we formed a little
group by ourselves.
HAD NO IDEA THE SHIP WAS SINKING.
“We were told to put on life belts, and obeyed. Then the sailors began
to launch the lifeboats. Still we were not alarmed. We had no doubt
that all on board would be saved. In fact, we had no idea that the ship
was sinking and believed that the resort to the lifeboats was merely a
precaution.
“Mr. Wick kissed his wife good-by, and our boat, the first on that side
of the ship, was lowered to the sea. There were about twenty-five women
in the boat, with two sailors and a steward to row. These were the only
men. The boat would have held many more.
“As the boat was being loaded the officer in charge pointed out a
light that glowed dimly in the distance on the surface of the sea and
directed our sailors to row to that, land their passengers and return
to the Titanic for more.
“As we were rowed away we saw that the great liner was settling. We
kept our boat pointed toward the light to which we were to row. As a
matter of fact, there were two lights--one red and the other white.
Sailormen on the Carpathia told us subsequently that the lights might
have been those of a fishing boat caught in the ice and drifting with
it--but who can tell?
“After a while our sailors ceased rowing, saying it was of no use
to keep on. Then we women tried to row, with the double light our
objective. We rowed and rowed, but did not seem to gain on the light,
which, like a will-o’-the-wisp, seemed ever to evade us. Finally we
gave up and sat huddled in the lifeboat.
“Some of the women complained of the cold, but the members of our own
party did not suffer, being provided with plenty of wraps.
“From the distance of a mile or more we heard the explosion and saw
the Titanic go down. The lights did not go out all at once. As the
ship slowly settled the rows of lights, one after another, winked out,
disappearing beneath the surface. Finally the ship plunged down, bow
first, and the stern slipped beneath the waves.
HAD HOPED ALL ON BOARD WOULD BE SAVED.
“Even then we had hoped that all on board might be saved. It was only
after we had been taken aboard the Carpathia, and somehow few of us
there were compared with the great company aboard the Titanic, that we
got the first glimmer of the appalling reality.”
“I never dreamed that it was serious,” said Alfred White, one of the
two oilers from the engine room who were saved by being picked up.
“I was on the whale deck in the bow calling the watch that was to
relieve me when the ice first came aboard. It was a black berg that we
struck--that is, it was composed of black ice. It could not be seen at
all at night.
“The striking opened seams below the water line, but did not even
scratch the paint above the line. I know that because I was one of
those who helped make an examination over the side with a lantern.
“I went down into the light engine room, where my station was, at 12.40
o’clock. We even made coffee, showing that there wasn’t much thought of
danger. An hour later I was still working around the light engines.
I heard the chief engineer tell one of his subordinates that No. 6
bulkhead had given away.
“At that time things began to look bad, for the Titanic was far down by
the bow. I was told to go up and see how things were going, and made my
way up through the dummy funnel to the bridge deck.
“By that time all the boats had left the ship and yet every one in the
engine room was at his post. I was near the captain and heard him say:
‘Well, boys, I guess it’s every man for himself now.’
“I slipped down some loose boat falls and dropped into the water. There
was a boat not far away, which later picked me up. There were five
firemen in her as a crew, forty-nine women and sixteen children. There
was no officer.
“THE MILLIONAIRES BOAT.”
“During the six hours we were afloat we were near what we boys
later called the millionaries’ boat. That lifeboat had only sixteen
passengers in her. When all were put aboard the Carpathia the six men
who were the crew of that millionaires’ boat each got £5. Those who had
worked harder saving second-class passengers didn’t get a cent.”
White then told of the way in which the children from the open boats
were swung aboard the Carpathia in sacks, while the women were hoisted
up in rope swings.
“Near the boat in which I was,” White went on, “were two collapsible
boats which had failed to work and were not better than rafts. They
had thirty-two men clinging to them who were later picked up by the
lifeboats.
“The other two collapsible boats which had about sixty persons in them
deposited what women they carried in the regular lifeboats and went to
the scene of the sinking.
“From the water were picked up perhaps fifty of the crew who had
floated off when she sank or else who had jumped before. The second
officer was picked up, too, and took command of a boat.
“Now, about the sinking itself. There was some sort of an explosion
just about 2 o’clock, or shortly after I had gone overboard. It was
not until this explosion, the nature of which I do not know, that the
lights went out. They had been fed by steam from oil boilers.
“The explosion caused a break in the ship just aft of the third funnel.
The forward section went down bow first. The after part then seemed
almost to right itself, and we thought she might keep afloat.
“But it wasn’t long before the propellers shot out of the water, and
down she went. A steward who stood on the poop deck had the ship go
down under him. He was picked up later, and his watch was found to have
stopped at 2.20 A. M., so we knew that that was the time she foundered.
There was no apparent suction when she foundered.
CONTINUALLY BUMPED INTO DEAD BODIES.
While we were cruising about the place our oars continually bumped
into dead bodies, wearing life belts. Some of the bodies were of the
half-naked stokers. They were killed by the shock. We knew that the
temperature of the water had been 28 degrees at 11 o’clock the same
evening. While we were waiting for the boat to go down we heard some
fifteen or twenty shots from the rail of the ship. We only surmised
what they were.”
There was a fireman who told of a woman in the boat which he helped man
who started up “Pull for the Shore” and “Nearer My God, to Thee” after
his boat had left the wreck. This kept up all night until the Carpathia
arrived.
Laurence Beasley, a Cambridge University man, who was a second-cabin
passenger on the Titanic, amplified his previous account while visiting
the White Star offices. After describing events immediately following
the collision with the iceberg and his departure in a lifeboat, Mr.
Beasley is quoted as saying:
“We drifted away easily as the oars were got out, and headed directly
away from the ship. Our crew seemed to be mostly cooks in white
jackets, two at an oar, with a stoker at the tiller, who had been
elected captain. He told us he had been at sea twenty-six years and had
never yet seen such a calm night on the Atlantic.
“As we rowed away from the Titanic we looked back from time to time
to watch her, and a more striking spectacle it was not possible for
any one to see. In the distance she looked an enormous length, her
great bulk outlined in black against the starry sky, every porthole
and saloon blazing with light. It was impossible to think anything
could be wrong with such a leviathan, were it not for that ominous tilt
downward in the bows where the water was by now up to the lowest row of
portholes.
SHIP’S END ONLY A QUESTION OF MINUTES.
“About 2 A. M., as near as I can remember, we observed her settling
very rapidly, with the bows and the bridge completely under water, and
concluded it was now only a question of minutes before she went, and so
it proved. She slowly tilted straight on end, with the stern vertically
upward, and, as she did, the light in the cabins and saloons, which had
not flickered for a moment since we left, died out, came on again for
a single flash, and finally went out altogether. At the same time the
machinery roared down through the vessel with a rattle and a groaning
that could be heard for miles, the weirdest sound, surely, that could
be heard in the middle of the ocean a thousand miles away from land.
“But this was not quite the end. To our amazement, she remained in that
upright position for a time which I estimate at five minutes; others in
the boat say less, but it was certainly some minutes while we watched
at least one hundred and fifty feet of the Titanic towering up above
the level of the sea and looming black against the sky.
“Then, with a quiet, slanting dive, she disappeared beneath the waters.
And there was left to us the gently heaving sea, the boat filled to
standing room with men and women in every conceivable condition of
dress and undress; above, the perfect sky of brilliant stars, with
not a cloud in the sky, all tempered with a bitter cold that made us
all long to be one of the crew who toiled away with the oars and kept
themselves warm thereby--a curious, deadening, bitter cold unlike
anything we had felt before.
“And then, with all these, there fell on the ear the most appalling
noise that ever human ear listened to--the cries of hundreds of our
fellow-beings struggling in the icy-cold water, crying for help with a
cry that we knew could not be answered. We longed to return and pick up
some of those swimming, but this would have meant swamping our boat and
further loss of the lives of all of us. We tried to sing to keep the
women from hearing the cries, and rowed hard to get away from the scene
of the wreck.
“We kept a lookout for lights, and several times it was shouted that
steamers’ lights were seen. Presently, low down on the horizon, we saw
a light that slowly resolved itself into a double light, and we watched
eagerly to see if the two would separate and so prove to be only two of
our boats. To our joy they moved as one, and round we swung the boat
and headed for her.
“The steersman shouted: ‘Now, boys, sing!’ and for the first time the
boat broke into song, ‘Row for the Shore, Sailors,’ and for the first
time tears came to the eyes of us all as we realized that safety was at
hand. Our rescuer showed up rapidly, and as she swung around we saw her
cabins all alight, and knew she must be a large steamship. She was now
motionless and we had to row to her. Just then day broke--a beautiful,
quiet dawn. We were received with a welcome that was overwhelming in
its warmth.”
CHAPTER XVIII.
LADY DUFF-GORDON’S EXPERIENCES.
Says it was as if Giant Hand had Pushed Ship Down--Realistic Picture
of Titanic’s Death Plunge--The Long, Dreary Wait--Man at Wheel Tells
of Crash--Told by Phone “Iceberg Ahead” Just as Ship Struck--Saw
Captain on Bridge.
Almost frenzied by the memory of the disaster through which they had
passed many of the survivors were unable for days even to discuss all
the details of the Titanic horror.
One of the best accounts was given by Lady Duff-Gordon, wife of Sir
Cosmo Duff-Gordon, who dictated it. Her tale shows that the Titanic was
near icebergs before she went to bed on the night of the disaster.
Here is her story, as well as that of others:
“I was asleep. The night was perfectly clear. We had watched for some
time the fields of ice. There was one just before I went below to
retire. I noticed among the fields of ice a number of large bergs.
“There was one which one of the officers pointed out to me. He said
that it must have been 100 feet high and seemed to be miles long. It
was away off in the distance. I went to my bedroom and retired.
“I was awakened by a long grinding sort of shock. It was not a
tremendous crash, but more as though some one had drawn a giant finger
all along the side of the boat.
“I awakened my husband and told him that I thought we had struck
something. There was no excitement that I could hear, but my husband
went up on deck. He returned and told me that we had hit some ice,
apparently a big berg, but that there seemed to be no danger. We went
on deck.
“No one, apparently, thought there was any danger. We watched a number
of women and children and some men going into the lifeboats. At last
one of the officers came to me and said, ‘Lady Gordon, you had better
go in one of the boats.’
“I said to my husband: ‘Well, we might as well take the boat, although
I think it will be only a little pleasure excursion until morning.’
“The boat was the twelfth or thirteenth to be launched. It was the
captain’s special boat. There was still no excitement. Five stokers got
in and two Americans--A. L. Solomon, of New York, and L. Stengel, of
Newark. Besides these there were two of the crew, Sir Cosmo, myself and
a Miss Frank, an English girl.
“There were a number of other passengers, mostly men, standing near by
and they joked with us because we were going out on the ocean. “The
ship can’t sink,” said one of them. “You will get your death of cold
out there in the ice.”
CRUISED AMONG ICE FOR TWO HOURS.
“We were slung off and the stokers began to row us away. We cruised
around among the ice for two hours. Sir Cosmo had looked at his watch
when we went off. It was exactly 12.15 A. M., and I should think
fifteen minutes after the boat struck. It did not seem to be very cold.
There was no excitement aboard the Titanic.
“Suddenly I had seen the Titanic give a curious shiver. The night was
perfectly clear. There was no fog, and I think we were a thousand feet
away. Everything could be clearly seen. There were no lights on the
boats except a few lanterns which had been lighted by those on board.
“Almost immediately after the boat gave this shiver we heard several
pistol shots and a great screaming arose from the decks.
“Then the boat’s stern lifted in the air and there was a tremendous
explosion. Then the Titanic dropped back again. The awful screaming
continued. Ten minutes after this there was another explosion. The
whole forward part of the great liner dropped down under the waves.
The stern rose a hundred feet, almost perpendicularly. The boat stood
up like an enormous black finger against the sky. The screaming was
agonizing. I never heard such a continued chorus of utter despair and
agony.
“Then there was another great explosion and the great stern of the
Titanic sank as though a great hand was pushing it gently down under
the waves. As it went, the screaming of the poor souls left on board
seemed to grow louder. It took the Titanic but a short time to sink
after that last explosion. It went down slowly without a ripple.
“We had heard the danger of suction when one of these great liners
sink. There was no such thing about the sinking of the Titanic. The
amazing part of it all to me as I sat there in the boat, looking at
this monster being, was that it all could be accomplished so gently.
“Then began the real agonies of the night. Up to that time no one in
our boat, and I imagine no one in any of the other boats, had really
thought that the Titanic was going to sink. For a moment a silence
seemed to hang over everything, and then from the water about where the
Titanic had been arose a bedlam of shrieks and cries. There were women
and men clinging to the bits of wreckage in the icy water.
AN AWFUL CHORUS OF SHRIEKS.
“It was at least an hour before the last shrieks died out. I remember
next the very last cry was that of a man who had been calling loudly:
‘My God! My God!’ He cried monotonously, in a dull, hopeless way. For
an entire hour there had been an awful chorus of shrieks gradually
dying into a hopeless moan until this last cry that I spoke of. Then
all was silent. When the awful silence came we waited gloomily in the
boats throughout the rest of the night.
“At last morning came. On one side of us was the ice floes and the
big bergs, and on the other side we were horrified to see a school of
tremendous whales. Then, as the mist lifted, we caught sight of the
Carpathia looming up in the distance and headed straight for us.
“We were too numbed by the cold and horror of that awful night to
cheer or even utter a sound. We just gazed at one another and remained
speechless. Indeed, there seemed to be no one among us who cared much
what happened.
“Those in the other boats seemed to have suffered more than we had. We,
it seemed, had been miraculously lucky. In one of the boats was a woman
whose clothing was frozen to her body.
“The men on the Carpathia had to chop it off before she could be taken
to a warm room. Several of the stokers and sailors who had manned the
boats had been frozen to death, and they lay stiff and lifeless in the
bottom of the boats, while the women and children were lifted to the
Carpathia.
“I did not see Captain Smith after I was put into the small boat, but
others told me that when the Titanic went down Captain Smith was seen
swimming in the icy water. He picked up a baby that was floating on a
mass of wreckage and swam with it to one of the small boats. He lifted
the baby into the boat, but the child was dead.
“The women in the boat, according to the story told me, wanted the
captain to get into the boat with them, but he refused, saying: ‘No,
there is a big piece of wreckage over here, and I shall stick to that.
We are bound to be rescued soon.’ Nothing more was seen of Captain
Smith.
FIFTEEN BRIDES LOSE THEIR HUSBANDS.
“There was an absolute calm and silence on the Carpathia. There were
hundreds of women who had lost their husbands, and among them fifteen
brides. Few of these had been married more than five or six months. No
one cared to talk. The gloom was awful. I buried myself in my cabin and
did not come on deck again.”
From Robert Hichens, quartermaster at the wheel of the Titanic when
the great vessel crashed into the iceberg, and then in command of one
of the boats which left the steamship before it went down, have come
details of the terrible sight at sea which could have been known to
perhaps no other person.
And standing out in memory of this young Cornishman are shrieks and
groans that went up from the dark hulk of the giant steamship before
she sank.
Hichens, a type of young Englishman who follows the sea, had for years
been on the troopship Dongolo, running to Bombay, and thought himself
fortunate when he obtained his berth as quartermaster of the Titanic,
the greatest and largest of all steamships. He told in their sequence
the events of the night and morning of April 14 and 15.
It was in his boat that Mrs. John Jacob Astor took her place, after
Col. Astor had kissed her good-by, and handed her a flask of brandy,
then taking his place in the line of men, some of whom realized even
then that the steamship was doomed. And his last sight as his boat was
lowered was of Captain Smith, standing on the bridge, giving his orders
as calmly as if he were directing her entrance into a harbor.
He told of how the officers stood with revolvers drawn, to enforce, if
the emergency should arise, that rule of the sea of women first; but
the emergency did not arise, and the men stood back or helped the women
to their seats.
A SEAMAN’S NARRATIVE.
In the way of a seaman, he told the narrative of the night spent in the
little boat, comforting as best he could the women who did not realize
as he did that some of them had looked upon their loved ones for the
last time.
“My watch was from 8 to 12 o’clock,” said Hichens. “From 8 to 10
o’clock I was the stand-by man, and from 10 to 11 o’clock I had the
wheel. When I was at the stand-by it was very dark, and, while it was
not dark, there was a haze. I cannot say about the weather conditions
after 10 o’clock, for I went into the wheelhouse, which is enclosed.
“The second officer was the junior watch officer from 8 to 10 o’clock,
and at 8 o’clock he sent me to the carpenter with orders for him to
look after the fresh water, as it was going to freeze.
“The thermometer then read 31½ degrees, but so far as could be seen
there was no ice in sight. The next order was from the second officer
for the deck engineer to turn the steam on in the wheelhouse, as it was
getting much colder. Then the second officer, Mr. Loteheller, told me
to telephone the lookout in the crow’s nest.
“‘Tell them,’ he said, ‘to keep a sharp and strict lookout for small
ice until daylight and to pass the word along to the other lookout men.’
“I took the wheel at 10 o’clock, and Mr. Murdock, the first officer,
took the watch. It was 20 minutes to 12 and I was steering when there
were the three gongs from the lookout, which indicated that some object
was ahead.
“Almost instantly, it could not have been more than four or five
seconds, when the lookout men called down on the telephone, ‘Iceberg
ahead!’ Hardly had the words come to me when there was a crash.
“I ain’t likely to forget, sir, how the crash came. There was a light
grating on the port bow, then a heavy crash on the port bow, then a
heavy crash on the starboard side. I could hear the engines stop, and
the lever closing the watertight emergency doors.
TITANIC SETTLES IN THE WATER.
“Mr. Murdock was the senior officer of the watch, and with him on the
bridge were Mr. Buxtell, the fourth officer, and Mr. Moody, the sixth
officer. The Titanic listed, perhaps, five degrees, to the starboard,
and then began to settle in the water. I stood attention at the wheel
from the time of the crash until 20 minutes after 12, and had no chance
to see what the captain did.”
Mrs. Potter, Mrs. Earnshaw and Mrs. Stephenson had spoken freely of the
accident to the conductor of the train which took them home.
“From the descriptions of the scene that followed the accident given
to me by the three ladies,” said the conductor, “it seems utterly
impossible to tell adequately of the suffering and hardship brought
about by the catastrophe. It all happened so suddenly, without a moment
to make the least preparation.
“Most of the passengers had gone to bed. The day had been clear, and
nearly everybody spent the afternoon and evening on the decks and
between 10 and 10.30 o’clock the steamer chairs, smoking rooms and
cafes were gradually vacated. The sea was perfectly calm, and least
expected was the crash which was the sounding note of the Titanic’s
doom.
“‘I was in the first lifeboat that was lowered,’ Mrs. Potter told me.
‘The jar, which tumbled nearly everyone from his berth, was followed by
a wild scramble to the decks. Women in night clothes, over which were
thrown coats, ran distractedly in all directions. Men almost crazed
with excitement, tore madly about trying to gather together families
and relatives, and the confusion was increased by the orders shouted by
the ship’s officers to the crew to make ready the lifeboats.
“‘Colonel and Mrs. John Jacob Astor were standing near me when I got
into the boat. They did not attempt to leave the ship, and the last
time I saw them together was when they, embracing each other, watched
the first boat lowered.
“‘I was placed in the boat with Mrs. Thayer. From the boat we could see
‘Jack’ Thayer jump from the ship. His mother saw him struggling in the
water. We cried to him to swim to our boat. He tried twice to get into
a lifeboat near him, and both times he was pushed away by persons in
it. We saw him swim to an icecake on which were thirty men. Only ten of
them were saved.
SUFFERED FROM EXPOSURE.
“‘In our boat were about twenty persons, most of them women, who
suffered intensely from the exposure. Their scanty clothes were no
protection from the water and ice. Mrs. Thayer rowed us for more than
two hours. She battled with the waves which threatened to overturn us,
and worked as valiantly as any experienced seaman could have done. To
her, for the most part, we owe our lives.
“‘We did not meet with Mrs. Thayer’s son until we had been on the
Carpathia for twenty-four hours. He had been picked up from a raft and
placed in the ship’s hospital. As soon as he was able to get about he
ran hurriedly through the Carpathia, and there was a happy meeting when
he there saw his mother.
“‘While the accommodations on the Carpathia were not very comfortable,
the passengers of the Titanic who were rescued by that vessel were well
treated, and feel grateful to the officers and passengers.’”
The eight musicians who went down in the Titanic and who were playing
“Nearer My God to Thee” when all the boats had gone, were under
the leadership of Bandmaster Hartley, who was transferred from the
Mauretania to take up his duties on the largest steamer of the White
Star Line. Under his direction were John Hume, violinist; Herbert
Taylor, pianist; Fred Clark, bass viol; George Woodward, cellist, and
Messrs. Brailey, Krins and Breicoux, who played when the others were
off duty.
On the Celtic were John S. Carr and Louis Cross, cellist and bass viol
of the orchestra on that steamship. When they got shore leave they told
something about the men on the Titanic, with whom they had made many
voyages. They also were acquainted with the conditions under which the
men lived on the Titanic, and gave a graphic idea of the manner in
which they must have responded when the call of duty came.
A MAN WITH A HIGH SENSE OF DUTY.
“Some were already in bed and some were probably smoking when the
ship hit the iceberg,” said John S. Carr. “The Titanic had a special
lounging and smoking room, with the sleeping rooms opening off it. It
was so late that they all must have been there when the first shock
came. Bandmaster Hartley was a man with the highest sort of a sense of
duty.
“I don’t suppose he waited to be sent for, but after finding how
dangerous the situation was he probably called his men together and
began playing. I know that he often said that music was a bigger weapon
for stopping disorder than anything on earth. He knew the value of the
weapon he had, and I think he proved his point.”
“The thing that hits me hardest,” said Louis Cross, “is the loss of
Happy Jock Hume, who was one of the violinists. Hume was the life of
every ship he ever played on and was beloved by every one from cabin
boys to captains on the White Star Line. He was a young Scotchman, not
over 21, and came of a musical family.
“His father and his grandfather before him had been violinists and
makers of musical instruments. The name is well known in Scotland
because of it. His real first name was John, but the Scotch nickname
stuck to him, and it was as Jock Hume that he was known to every one
on the White Star Line, even when he sailed as bandmaster.
“Over in Dumfries, Scotland, I happen to know there’s a sweet young
girl hoping against hope. Jock was to have been married the next
time that he made the trip across the ocean. He was a young man of
exceptional musical ability. If he had lived, I believe he would not
long have remained a member of a ship’s orchestra. He studied a great
deal, although he could pick up without trouble difficult composition
which would have taken others long to learn.
“The odd part of it is that Jock Hume’s mother had a premonition that
something would happen to him on this trip. He was on the sister ship
Olympic a few months ago when, on her maiden voyage, she collided with
the warship Hawk. There was a rent torn in the side of the Olympic at
that time and she had to be towed back to Belfast.
A MOTHER’S FATEFUL DREAM.
“Young Hume went back to his home in Dumfries to spend the time until
she should be repaired, and when his mother heard of the accident
she begged him not to go back to life on the sea. He told numbers of
persons in Liverpool about it. Mrs. Hume had a dream of some sort, and
said she was sure no good would come of it if he went back.
“Jock had his eye on going in for concert music sooner or later, but he
laughed at his mother’s fears and took the chance to go on the Titanic.
He was known on many ships and had friends in New York. Last winter he
got to know Americans who were wintering at the Constant Springs Hotel
in Kingston, Jamaica.
“He had been bandmaster on the Carmania, of the Cunard Line, and had
played with the orchestra of the Majestic, the California, of the
Anchor Line, and the Megantic, of the White Star Company, which plies
between Liverpool and Montreal.
“Hume was a light hearted, fine tempered young fellow with curly blond
hair, a light complexion and a pleasant smile. He was the life of every
ship he ever sailed on and was full of fun. He is mourned by every man
who knew him.
“Another thing of which we are all talking is that Fred Clark, the bass
viol of the Titanic, should have gone down on his first trip across the
Atlantic. Clark was well known in concert in Scotland, and had never
shipped before. The White Star people were particularly anxious to
have good music on the first trip of the Titanic, and offered him good
pay to make just one trip. As the winter concert season had closed, he
finally accepted.
“He was 34 years of age and was not married, but had a widowed mother.
He was a well set-up man of a little over medium height, with black
hair, dark complexion, and a high forehead. Clark was jolly company and
of optimistic temperament. Just before he sailed a number of persons
were joking with him about his finally going to sea, and he said:
“‘Well, you know it would be just my luck to go down with the ship.
I’ve kept away from it so long it might finish me on this trip.’ Then
he laughed cheerily and all his friends joined in. They all considered
the Titanic as safe as a hotel.
THE BOAT’S MUSICIANS.
“Herbert Taylor, the pianist, was considered a master of his
instrument. He was a man of an intellectual turn of mind, with a thin
studious face. He was married, and his home was in London. About
Woodward, the ’cello, I can tell you but little. His home was in Leeds.
The other three men--Brailey, Krins and Breicoux--made up the trio
which played in the second cabin and in the restaurant. They had been
playing together for some time, but neither Carr nor myself shipped
with them on any voyage.
“It’s a mistake from the technical point of view to call a steamer’s
orchestra a band,” said Carr. “The term is a survival of the days
when they really had a brass band on board. On all the big steamships
now the music is given by men who are thorough masters of their
instruments. The Titanic orchestra was considered one of the finest
which was ever boated when the ship put out from the other side, and I
think the way the men finished up showed that they had about as good
stuff inside as any who went down in the Atlantic.”
H. E. Steffanson, of New York, another survivor who leaped into the
sea and was picked up, declared that he saw the iceberg before the
collision.
“It seemed to me that the berg, a mile away, I should say, was about 80
feet out of the water. The ice that showed clear of the water was not
what we struck. After the collision I saw ice all over the sea. When we
hit the berg we seemed to slide up on it. I could feel the boat jumping
and pounding, and I realized that we were on the ice, but I thought we
would weather it. I saw the captain only once after the collision. He
was telling the men to get the women and children into the boats. I
thought then that it was only for precaution, and it was long after the
boats had left that I felt the steamer sinking.
“I waited on the upper deck until about 2 o’clock. I took a look below
and saw that the Titanic was doomed. Then I jumped into the ocean and
within five minutes I was picked up.”
DISCIPLINE DESCRIBED AS PERFECT.
Steffanson also described the discipline upon the boat as perfect.
Many women, as well as men, he said, declined to leave the Titanic,
believing she was safe.
Miss Cornelia Andrews, of Hudson, N. Y., was one of the first to be put
into a lifeboat.
“I saw the Titanic sink,” she said. “I saw her blow up. Our little boat
was a mile away when the end came, but the night was clear and the ship
loomed up plainly, even at that distance. As our boat put off I saw
Mr. and Mrs. Astor standing on the deck. As we pulled away they waved
their hands and smiled at us. We were in the open boat about four hours
before we were picked up.”
E. W. Beans, a second-cabin passenger, was picked up after swimming in
the icy water for twenty minutes. He, too, jumped into the sea after
the boats were lowered.
“I heard a shot fired,” said Beans, “just before I jumped. Afterward I
was told a steerage passenger had been shot while trying to leap into a
lifeboat filled with women and children.”
How the wireless operator on the Carpathia, by putting in an extra ten
minutes on duty, was a means of saving 745 lives was told by Dr. J. F.
Kemp, the Carpathia’s physician.
“Our wireless operator,” said Dr. Kemp, “was about to retire Sunday
night when he said, jokingly: ‘I guess I’ll wait just ten minutes, then
turn in.’
“It was in the next ten minutes that the Titanic’s call for help came.
Had the wireless man not waited, there would have been no survivors.”
“The iceberg that sank the Titanic looked to be as big as the Rock of
Gibraltar,” said Thomas Brown, one of the stewards of the Carpathia,
in describing what he saw when the crew of his ship picked up the
survivors from the Titanic. Brown left the Carpathia a few minutes
after she was docked and he gave a vivid description of the work of the
rescue.
“There were 2,341 persons aboard the Titanic, counting officers and
crew,” said the steward. “Seven hundred and ten persons were saved; so
the list of those who drowned numbers 1,631 persons.
A CLEAR S. O. S. SIGNAL.
“I had turned in for the night when Main, our wireless operator, caught
the ‘S. O. S.’ signal of distress. He told me it was the clearest
signal of any sort he ever received. The minute he got the message he
hastened to Captain Rostrom and said, ‘Captain, the Titanic is sinking;
she struck an iceberg.’ Captain Rostrom did not believe it. ‘Here it
comes again, Captain,’ said the operator.
“That was all the captain needed to get our crew into action: he
sounded the bell for the watchman, and sent him to order all hands on
deck.
“I doubt if any passengers on the Carpathia knew of the tragedy until
Jones, the first mate, sounded the emergency gong after the watchman
had summoned the crew.
“A few minutes after we got the signal for help we were ready for
action. The ‘S. O. S.’ reached us shortly after midnight. We were then
56 miles away from the Titanic. Our engineer turned about and put
on full speed, and we reached the Titanic about 3.30 o’clock Monday
morning.
“While the Carpathia was speeding toward the doomed ship Captain
Rostrom summoned the higher officers together, and said he would hold
every man responsible for the work assigned to him.
“He told Main to answer the Titanic and tell Captain Smith that we were
making for his ship, full steam ahead.
“Phillips, the operators of the Titanic, evidently did not get our
reply, or, if he did receive it, he could not answer us in any way.
Captain Rostrom told Mrs. Smith, the stewardess, to prepare for any
emergency. He told me to get coffee, sandwiches and other food ready
for the survivors.
“On our way to the Titanic the captain went below and told the engineer
that he must get to the Titanic before she sank. I doubt if Captain
Rostrom ever got as much speed out of the Carpathia as he did on the
way to the Titanic.
“Long before the Carpathia got near the scene of the wreck our boats
were ready to be lowered into the water.
PROMPTNESS IN HANDLING LIFEBOATS.
“Two men were stationed at each boat, and I and Thomas McKenna, seaman,
were in charge of boat No. 1. We have sixteen boats on the ship, and
they were hanging suspended from the davits within fifteen minutes
after we received the ‘S. O. S.’ call for help.
“I must not forget the women who were on the Carpathia. They were the
most self-sacrificing women I ever saw. Their fortitude under the
distressing circumstances was so remarkable that each one ought to be
rewarded for the work she did after the survivors were lifted aboard
the Carpathia.
“As we got near the scene of the wreck the barometer dropped
considerably. It became cold--bitter cold. We did not see the icebergs
then, but Captain Rostrom said that we were nearing them. Suddenly, as
the iceberg loomed up ahead of our ship, Captain Rostrom ran to the
pilot house and took charge of the helm.
“The night was clear and starlight, but we did not see an iceberg until
the Carpathia was within a half mile of it. Of course, we had ample
time to steer clear of the floes.
“At 3.30 o’clock our vessel plunged into a sea of open ice. I believe
there must have been thirty or forty icebergs in the water around the
Carpathia. Captain Rostrom took his ship safely through the floe and
suddenly we heard a shriek. It was faint at first and then it became
louder.
“‘The women and children, get them first,’ Captain Rostrom shouted to
the crew on the boat deck who were awaiting the signal to cut loose
lifeboats. Our searchlight was trained on the sea ahead and the boats
filled with the shipwrecked passengers stood out in bold relief.
“I shall never forget the sight. There were many boats from the Titanic
loaded with women and children wedged among the ice. Even before we got
up to the first boat from the Titanic we could see the iceberg which
sank her. It looked to be as big as the Rock of Gibraltar. It towered
high in the air and it moved very slowly.
AVOIDS CRASHING INTO SHIPWRECKED PASSENGERS.
“I believe it was over 500 feet high, and we can judge by its size by
recalling that seven-eighths of an iceberg is submerged. Within fifty
yards of the boats in the water Captain Rostrom gave the signal to
reverse the engines so our ship would not crash into the shipwrecked
passengers.
“‘Ready men--go,’ shouted the captain to me, and McKenna loosened the
rope and our boat dropped into the water. We tugged away at the oars
with all our strength. We shoved our boat alongside of boat No. 13 from
the Titanic. It was filled with passengers. I believe there were about
fifteen children in it.
“Poor little things! Some were benumbed with cold; others were
apparently lifeless, and several moaned piteously. The women in the
boat were scantily clad. Their clothing was grotesque. They had on
wraps, night robes, silk shawls over their heads and men’s coats around
them. Many had no shoes, and all of them suffered from the cold.
“McKenna and I tied a hawser to the boat and then rowed back to the
Carpathia. Harris, the bos’n’s mate, and another member of the crew
helped us to lift the unfortunate ones from the boat. Some had to be
carried up the ladder to the boat deck of the Carpathia.
“A few could walk, but the majority were so benumbed that they could
neither speak nor walk.
“As fast as others of our crew could get the Titanic’s boats they were
dragged toward the side of the Carpathia. We rescued twenty boatloads
of passengers--710 in all. Our ship resembled a hospital on our way
back to New York, for a number of the women and children were ill.
“The three physicians on the Carpathia told me as we were going up the
bay that there were sixteen patients for the hospital as soon as the
Carpathia docked.”
From a little porthole on the side of the Carpathia a woman passenger
told how the wireless call from the wrecked Titanic sent the Cunard
liner racing to the rescue; how the fainting, hysterical survivors
were taken from the lifeboats, and of the nerve-wrecking scenes that
followed on board the rescue ship.
A NARRATIVE ON THE TUG BOAT REYNOLDS.
The narrative was told to persons on the tug boat Reynolds as the
latter sped side by side with the Carpathia as she moved up the North
river to her berth at the Cunard pier. The woman thrust her head
through the porthole of the liner in response to megaphone calls
shouted from the Reynolds.
“What’s the trouble now?” she asked.
“Tell us about the wreck of the Titanic. Who are you?”
“Miss Peterson, of Passaic, N. J.,” was the answer. She was a passenger
on the Carpathia.
The captain of the Reynolds, William Bennett, turned his craft closer
to the Carpathia, so those on the tug could get within speaking
distance.
“It’s almost too horrible to speak about,” began Miss Peterson. “It
seems like a dream. I was asleep in my berth. I had walked along the
promenade deck until about 10 o’clock and had gone to my room and
fallen asleep. Suddenly I heard a deep blast from the horns. I awoke
startled.
“Then came another blast. The lights were turned on all over the ship.
I heard the officers and crew running up and down the decks. I dressed
hurriedly, thinking something was wrong on the Carpathia. I hastened
to the deck. It was about 2 o’clock in the morning and the stars were
shining brightly overhead.
“I met Captain Rostrom and asked what was the trouble. ‘The Titanic has
struck an iceberg and is sinking. Great God, men,’ he shouted, turning
to his officers, ‘get ready to save these poor souls. There must be
2,500 on board.’
“Before the captain had told us of the wreck the Carpathia was being
turned around toward the Titanic. I went on the boat deck and met many
of our passengers. I heard the wireless buzz, and I knew the operator
was trying to talk to the Titanic. I tried to get below to see the
wireless instrument and operator, but I was told to go on deck again.
The operator was clad only in his trousers and undershirt.
“Captain Rostrom said: ‘Can’t you get her?’ ‘No,’ replied the operator,
‘she doesn’t answer.’
“‘She’s going down,’ said Captain Rostrom, and he ordered the engineer
to put on full speed.
SPEEDED FASTER THAN USUAL.
“I don’t know how fast we went, but the speed of the Carpathia at that
time was greater by far than the way we had been traveling on our way
across the ocean. You can imagine the excitement aboard the Carpathia.
Everyone was dressed and on deck before we got to the Titanic, or
rather what was left of her.
“I guess it was about 3.30 o’clock when we got near the boats of the
Titanic. The Carpathia had all her boats hanging on the davits and
Captain Rostrom was ready. I heard women scream as the Carpathia
approached the Titanic’s boats. I shrieked with them because every one
was saying, ‘Oh, oh, it’s awful, awful.’ I saw the first boat of the
Titanic taken from the water.
“I saw the icebergs all around the boats. I wonder now how they kept
afloat. Before the Carpathia had slackened speed much a lifeboat from
our ship was in the water and the men were pushing toward the other
boats.
“They tied a rope to the Titanic’s boats and then moved back to the
Carpathia and the first boatload of survivors were taken from the water
only a few minutes after we saw it.
“There were about fifty women and children in it; some had fainted and
lay motionless. Others were screaming and were hysterical. There were
no men in the boat and none of the survivors were dressed properly.
“They had on night robes, furs, evening gowns, anything they could
find. Some were almost frozen. A little girl, they called her Emily,
was shrieking, ‘Oh, mama, mama, I’m sick. Oh, mama, mama!’
“Her mother could not comfort her, because she collapsed as soon as she
was lifted to the deck of the Carpathia. All the women on our boat got
their heavy clothing and threw it around the survivors. Captain Rostrom
told us to take them to our staterooms, and we did all we could to make
them comfortable.
NEARLY ALL BOATS TAKEN FROM WATER.
“I did not go on deck again until an hour or more had passed; by that
time the crew of the Carpathia had taken nearly all the boats from the
water. I saw three loads of passengers taken from the boats and the
mate of the Carpathia said there were about 800 saved. Captain Rostrom
had tears in his eyes while he was directing the work of rescue.
“We were here, there, everywhere it seemed all at once. We got a few
men aboard, but they were not taken from the lifeboats. It was women
and children first.
“Our ship was a hospital ship on April 15. All the women on our boat
offered to give up their staterooms and the captain ordered many of the
survivors placed in our berths.
“The doctors had more than they could do to care for the sick. Women
fainted one after the other. Mrs. Astor was unconscious at times. She
called for her husband time and again, and so we dared not tell her
that Colonel Astor was not aboard.”
A steward from the Carpathia told the following tale of the rescue of
the Titanic’s passengers and crew to a group of his mates:
“It was between quarter after and half after 1 o’clock, ship’s time,
Monday morning,” he said, “when all the stewards were mustered and
Chief Steward Highes told us that a wireless had just come in that the
Titanic had hit an iceberg and probably would need help. He urged us to
turn right in and get ready for a ship’s load of people. The Carpathia
turned in the direction the wireless had called from.
“We got hot coffee ready and laid out blankets and made sandwiches and
everything like that. It seemed as if every passenger on the boat knew
about the trouble and turned out. Captain Rostrom had shut off the hot
water all over the ship and turned every ounce of heat into steam, and
the old boat was as excited as any of us.
“After we got things ready we went out on deck. It was a glorious
morning--no swell in the sea, but bitter cold. The ship’s lights were
on full blaze and we were there in the middle of a sea of ice--the
finest sight I ever saw.
COMPARATIVELY EMPTY BOAT WITHOUT WOMEN.
“Just as it was about half day and dark we came upon a boat. There were
eighteen men in it and it was in charge of an officer. There were no
women in the boat, and it was not more than one-third filled. All of
the men were able to come up the Jacob’s ladder on the Carpathia, which
we threw over the port side. Every one of them was given some brandy or
hot black coffee. After they were all on board we pulled up their boat.
“It was bright morning by now and all around the Carpathia, here and
there, about a quarter mile apart, were more boats. These were fuller
than the first and there were women in all of them. The women were
hoisted up in bo’suns chairs, and the men who could do so climbed
the Jacob’s ladder. Some of the men, however, had to be hauled up,
especially the firemen. There was a whole batch of firemen saved. They
were nearly naked. They had jumped overboard and swam after the boats,
it turned out, and they were almost frozen stiff.
“The women were dressed, and the funny thing about it is only five of
them had to be taken to the hospital. Both the men’s hospitals were
filled--twenty-four beds in all. We got twelve boatloads, I think,
inside of a little more than an hour. Then, between quarter after and
half after 8 o’clock, we got the last two boats--crowded to the guards
and almost all women.
“After we got the last boatload aboard the Californian came alongside
and the captains arranged that we should make straight for New York and
the Californian would look around for more boats. We circled round and
round, though, and we saw all kinds of wreckage. There was not a person
on a stick of it and we did not get sight of another soul.
“While we were pulling in the boatloads of women we saved were quiet
enough and not making any trouble at all. But when it seemed sure we
would not find any more persons alive then bedlam came.
“I hope I never go through it again. The way those women took on for
the folks they had lost was awful and we could not do anything to quiet
them until they cried themselves out.
“There were five Chinamen in the boats and not a soul knew where
they came from. No one saw them get into the boats; but there they
were--wherever they came from.
“The fellows from the crew of the Titanic told us that lots more of
them could have got away, only no one would believe that their ship
could sink.”
CHAPTER XIX.
SENATORS HEAR STARTLING STORIES.
Senators Hear Startling Stories--Probing Committee Took Prompt
Action--Special Investigation to Forestall Spiriting Away of
Witnesses--Prominent Persons on Stand--Carpathia’s Captain and Head of
White Star Line Chief Witnesses--Inventor of Wireless Telegraphy Also
Testifies.
Managing Director of the White Star Line, J. Bruce Ismay; Captain
Rostrom, of the Carpathia; Guglielmo Marconi, inventor of wireless; the
second officer of the Titanic and others testified before the Senate
committee which was investigating the disaster that caused the loss of
more than 1600 lives when the Titanic hit an iceberg.
Mr. Ismay was visibly nervous when he took the stand to testify in the
Waldorf-Astoria, where the hearings were being held.
Several times he avoided direct answers by saying: “I know nothing
about it.” Little if any light was thrown on the sea tragedy by his
testimony.
That the Titanic’s rate of speed was approximately 26½ land miles was
brought out from his lips.
He was not sure in just what boat he left the Titanic, nor was he sure
how long he remained on the liner after she struck.
He added, however, that before he entered a lifeboat he had been told
that there were no more women on the deck, and he denied that there had
been any censorship of messages from the Carpathia.
The seriousness of the inquiry by the Senate investigating committee
in the Titanic disaster was disclosed when Senator Smith, of Michigan,
the chairman, at first flatly refused to let any of the officers or
the 200 odd members of the crew of the sunken steamship get beyond the
jurisdiction of the United States Government. The men were all to have
sailed on the steamer Lapland.
Later it was settled that the greater part of the crew would be
permitted to sail on this steamer, but that the twelve men and four
officers among the survivors now under subpena, together with Mr.
Ismay, would not be allowed to depart.
Captain Rostrom told a simple, apparently straightforward story,
thrilling from its very simplicity and the sailorman quality of the
narrative.
He answered questions direct and gave the first authoritative tale
of the hearing of the appeal for help, the rush to aid the sinking
liner and the sighting of the ship’s boats and picking them up, the
preparations made, while the Carpathia was being urged along under
every ounce of steam its boilers could make, to provide for the
reception of the survivors on board.
CAPTAIN ROSTROM’S DENIAL.
Captain Rostrom denied emphatically there was any intention on his part
to disregard the inquiry made by the President of the United States or
that any censorship was exercised over wireless messages by any person
other than himself.
Charles W. Lightholder, second officer of the Titanic and senior
surviving officer of the ship, told of what preceded the sinking of the
Titanic, what happened while women were taken away in boats as brave
men stood by, and what happened when the Titanic took her last dip. It
was a story of heroism, told quietly and calmly.
Lightholder said that tests of the water had been made for ice. It
was part of the routine. Water was taken from the side of the ship in
canvas buckets and the temperature learned by putting a thermometer in
it.
As the second officer of the ship, Lightholder said he had been in
charge of it on Sunday when the Titanic struck, from 6 o’clock in the
evening until 10, or inside of two hours before the collision.
He would not admit that the tests were being made solely for the
purpose of searching for information as to icebergs.
It was part of the routine of the ship. The tests were made for routing
purposes and other purposes. The water was not much above freezing.
The witness said that he did not know what the tests of the water
that day showed. No reports had been made to him. He did not think it
necessary that night, when he was on the bridge in charge, to make
tests for the purpose of finding out if the Titanic was in the vicinity
of icebergs.
ICEBERGS REPORTED.
“Did you know that the Amerika had reported to the Titanic the location
of icebergs in that neighborhood?” asked Senator Smith.
“I heard of the message, but I didn’t know that it was the Amerika.”
“Did you get from Captain Smith that night any information about the
icebergs?”
“Not that night,” said Lightholder. “I think it was in the afternoon,
about 1 o’clock. I was on the bridge, having relieved First Officer
Murdock, who had gone to lunch.”
Captain Smith, he said, told him of the wireless message from the
Amerika about the icebergs. Lightholder said he couldn’t recall just
what position the ship was in then, but he could work it out on the
chart.
When Chief Officer Murdock returned to the bridge, Lightholder said, he
told him exactly the information Captain Smith had communicated to him.
“What did Murdock say?” asked Senator Smith. “All right,” replied
Lightholder.
“So the chief officer of the ship was fully advised by you that you
were in proximity to icebergs?” he was asked. “Yes, sir.”
“How fast was the boat going at that time?” “Between 21½ and 22 knots.”
“Was that her maximum speed?” “So far as we knew,” said Lightholder,
“she could go faster than that if pushed. We understood that that was
not her maximum speed.”
“During your voyage, did you know you were in the vicinity of ice?”
Senator Smith asked. “I knew some had been reported.”
He said the ship was not in proximity to icebergs Saturday or Sunday,
although he knew the ship would be near ice on Sunday night. The
witness said he knew nothing of the Amerika and the Titanic talking by
wireless about icebergs.
Senator Smith asked if he sought to send any wireless messages from the
Titanic after she struck. He said not.
MR. ISMAY’S REMARKS.
Turning to the subject of lifeboats, Mr. Ismay said he heard the
captain give the order to lower the boats. “I then left the bridge.”
Three boats, he said, he saw lowered and filled. In his own boat were
four members of the crew and forty-five passengers.
“Was there any jostling or attempt by men to get into the boats?” asked
Senator Smith. “I saw none.”
“How were the women selected?” “We picked the women and children as
they stood nearest the rail.”
Representative Hughes handed Senator Smith a note, and then the
chairman told Mr. Ismay that it was reported that the second lifeboat
left without its full complement of oarsmen, and from 11.30 until 7.30
women were forced to row the boat. “I know nothing about it.”
Representative Hughes’ daughter was in this boat and was assigned to
watch the cork in the boat and, if it came out, to use her finger as a
stopper.
Then Senator Smith asked the circumstances under which he left the
boat. “The boat was being filled,” began Mr. Ismay. “The officers
called out to know if there were any more women to go. There were
none. No passengers were on the deck. So as the boat was being lowered
I got into it.”
“The ship was sinking?” asked Senator Smith. “The boat was sinking,”
almost whispered Mr. Ismay.
“Was there any attempt to lower the boats of the Carpathia to take on
passengers after you went aboard her?” asked Senator Smith. “There were
no passengers there to take on,” said Mr. Ismay.
He said he saw no liferafts in the sea.
“How many lifeboats were there on the Titanic?” “Twenty altogether, I
think,” said Mr. Ismay, “sixteen collapsible and four wooden boats.”
Whether the boats were taken on board the Carpathia or not he did not
know.
“It has been suggested,” Senator Smith continued, “that two of the
lifeboats sank as soon as lowered. Do you know anything about that?”
“I do not. I never heard of it, and I think all the lifeboats were
accounted for.”
NO INDICATIONS OF TITANIC’S BREAKING.
“When you last saw her were there indications that the Titanic had
broken in two?” “No, there was no such indication.”
“How long after you left her was it that you looked back for the last
time?” “It may have been ten minutes or a half hour. I am not sure.
Impossible for me to tell.”
“Was there confusion apparent on the Titanic when you looked back?” “I
didn’t see any. All I saw was the green light the last time I looked.”
“After you left Captain Smith on the bridge did you see him again?” “I
did not.”
“Did you have any message from him?” “None.”
“How many wireless operators were there on the Titanic?” “I presume
there were two. One is always on watch.”
“Did they survive?” “I have been told one did, but I do not know
whether it is true or not.”
Mr. Ismay was asked what he had on when he got into the lifeboat. “A
pair of slippers, a pair of pajamas, a suit of clothes and an overcoat.”
Captain Rostrom, of the Carpathia, followed Mr. Ismay. He told Mr.
Smith that he had been captain of the Carpathia since last January, but
that he had been a seaman twenty-seven years.
The captain told in detail of the arrangements made to prepare the
lifeboats and the ship for the receipt of the survivors.
Arriving at the zone of the accident, Captain Rostrom testified, he saw
an iceberg straight ahead of him and, stopping at 4 A. M., ten minutes
later he picked up the first lifeboat. The officer sang out he had only
one seaman on board and was having difficulty in manning his boat.
ICEBERGS ON EVERY SIDE.
“By the time I got the boat aboard day was breaking,” said the captain.
“In a radius of four miles I saw all the other lifeboats. On all sides
of us were icebergs; some twenty, some were 150 to 200 feet high, and
numerous small icebergs or ‘growlers.’ Wreckage was strewn about us. At
8.30 all the Titanic’s survivors were aboard.”
Then, with tears filling his eyes, Captain Rostrom said he called the
purser. “I told him,” said Captain Rostrom, “I wanted to hold a service
of prayer--thanksgiving for the living and a funeral service for the
dead.
“I went to Mr. Ismay. He told me to take full charge. An Episcopal
clergyman was found among the passengers, and he conducted the
services.”
As the prayers were being said, Captain Rostrom testified, he was
on the bridge searching for survivors. He told of talking with the
California, which had arrived. As he searched the sea, one body with a
life preserver on floated by.
The man was dead, probably a member of the crew, the captain said. The
body was not picked up, the officer explaining, “because the survivors
of the Titanic were in no condition then to see a body brought aboard.”
“But I must say,” declared Captain Rostrom with positiveness, “every
one of the survivors behaved magnificently. They sat in the boats until
the order came for them to mount the ladder in turn, and then came up.”
Asked about the lifeboats, Captain Rostrom said he found one among
the wreckage in the sea. Several of the lifeboats brought in on the
Carpathia to New York, he said, were lowered last night and hauled away
by tenders, he knew not where.
Captain Rostrom said that the Carpathia had twenty lifeboats of her
own, in accordance with the British regulations.
“Wouldn’t that indicate that the regulations are out of date, your
ship being much smaller than the Titanic, which also carried twenty
lifeboats?” Senator Smith asked. “No. The Titanic was supposed to be a
lifeboat herself.”
Captain Rostrom then explained that it was for the good of the
shipwrecked people that he brought his ship to New York instead of
going to Halifax.
WOMEN AT THE OARS.
At Representative Hughes’ suggestion, Captain Rostrom was asked further
about the lifeboat with one officer and one seaman in it. This was the
boat from which the Representative’s daughter was rescued. At least two
women were rowing in this boat. In another lifeboat he saw women at the
oars, but how many he could not tell.
In discussing the strength of the Carpathia’s wireless, Captain Rostrom
said the Carpathia was only 58 miles from the Titanic when the call
for help came. “Our wireless operator was not on duty,” said Captain
Rostrom, “but as he was undressing he had his apparatus to his ear. Ten
minutes later he would have been in bed and we never would have heard.”
Mr. Marconi took the stand as soon as the hearing was resumed for the
afternoon. He said he was the chairman of the British Marconi Company.
Under instructions of the company, he said operators must take their
orders from the captain of the ship on which they are employed.
“Do the regulations prescribe whether one or two operators should be
aboard the ocean vessels?” “Yes, on ships like the Titanic and Olympic
two are carried,” said Mr. Marconi. “The Carpathia, a smaller boat,
carries one. The Carpathia’s wireless apparatus is a short-distance
equipment. The maximum efficiency of the Carpathia’s wireless, I should
say, was 200 miles. The wireless equipment on the Titanic was available
500 miles during the daytime and 1000 miles at night.”
“Do you consider that the Titanic was equipped with the latest improved
wireless apparatus?” “Yes, I should say that it had the very best.”
Charles Herbert Lightholder, second officer of the Titanic, followed
Mr. Marconi on the stand. Mr. Lightholder said he understood the
maximum speed of the Titanic, as shown by its trial tests, to have been
22½ to 23 knots. Senator Smith asked if the rule requiring life-saving
apparatus to be in each room for each passenger was complied with.
LIFE-SAVING EQUIPMENT INSPECTED.
“Everything was complete,” said Lightholder. Sixteen lifeboats, of
which four were collapsible, were on the Titanic, he added. During
the tests, he said, Captain Clark, of the British Board of Trade, was
aboard the Titanic to inspect its life-saving equipment.
“How thorough are these captains of the Board of Trade in inspecting
ships?” asked Senator Smith. “Captain Clark is so thorough that we
called him a nuisance.”
Lightholder said he was in the sea with a lifebelt on one hour and a
half.
“What time did you leave the ship?” “I didn’t leave it.”
“Did it leave you?” “Yes, sir.”
“Where were you when the Titanic sank?” “In the officers’ quarters.”
“Were all the lifeboats gone then?” “All but one. I was about fifteen
feet from it. It was hanging in the tackle, and they were trying to get
it over the bulwarks the last time I saw it. The first officer, Mr.
Murdock, who lost his life, was managing the tackle.”
The last boat, a flat collapsible, to put off was the one on top the
officers’ quarters, Lightholder said. Men jumped upon it on deck
and waited for the water to float it off. Once at sea, it upset.
The forward funnel fell into the water, just missing the raft, and
overturning it. The funnel probably killed persons in the water.
“This was the boat I eventually got on,” declared Lightholder. “No one
was on it when I reached it. Later about thirty men clambered out of
the water on to it. All had on life preservers.”
DIED AND SLIPPED OFF INTO THE WATER.
“Did any passengers get on?” asked Senator Smith. “J. B. Thayer, the
second Marconi operator and Colonel Gracie I recall,” said the witness.
“All the rest were firemen taken out of the water. Two of these died
that night and slipped off into the water. I think the senior Marconi
operator did that.”
“Did you see any attempt to get women to go who would not?” “Yes.”
“Why would they not go?” “I hadn’t time to learn.”
“Did any ask for their family to go?” “Yes, one or two.”
“Did any families go?” “No.”
In the first boat to put off, Lightholder said, he put twenty to
twenty-five. Two seamen were placed in it. The officer said he could
spare no more and that the fact that women rowed did not show the boat
was not fully equipped.
At that time he did not believe the danger was great. Two seamen placed
in the boat he said were selected by him, but he could not recall who
they were.
“The third boat?” “By the time I came to the third boat--all these on
the portside--I began to realize that the situation was serious and I
began to take chances.”
“How long did all the work of loading and lowering a lifeboat take?”
“It was difficult to say, but I think about fifteen or twenty minutes.”
“How many passengers did the third boat contain?” “I filled it up as
full as I dared, sir, then lowered it; about thirty-five, I think.
The women and children couldn’t have stood quieter if they’d been in
church.”
In loading the fourth lifeboat Lightholder said he was running short
of seamen. “I put two seamen in and one jumped out. That was the first
boat I had to put a man passenger in. He was standing nearby and said
he would go if I needed him.
“I said, ‘Are you a sailor?’ and he replied that he was a yachtsman.
Then I told him that if he was sailor enough to get out over the
bulwarks to the lifeboat to go ahead. He did and proved himself
afterward to be a very brave man.”
“Who was he--did you know him?” “I didn’t know him then, but afterward
I looked him up. He was Major Peuchen, of Toronto.”
“Had you ever seen him before?” “Never.”
DIFFICULTY IN FINDING WOMEN.
Of the fifth boat Lightholder had no particular recollection. “The last
boat I put out, my sixth boat,” he said, “we had difficulty finding
women. I called for women and none were on deck. The men began to get
in--and then women appeared. As rapidly as they did the men passengers
got out of the boats again.
“The boat’s deck was only ten feet from the water when I lowered the
sixth boat. When we lowered the first the distance to the water was 70
feet.” All told, Lightholder testified, 210 members of the crew were
saved.
Lightholder declared he stood on top the officers’ quarters and as the
ship dived he faced forward and dived also. “I was sucked against a
blower and held there,” testified the officer.
“Head above water?” “No, sir. A terrific gust came up the blower--the
boilers must have exploded--and I was blown clear.”
“How far were you blown?” “Barely clear. I was sucked down again; this
time on the ‘fidley’ grating.”
“Did anyone else have a similar experience?” “Yes, Colonel Gracie.”
“How did you get loose?” “I don’t know, maybe another explosion. All I
know is we came up by a boat.”
“Were there any watertight compartments on that ship?” the Senator
asked. “Certainly, forty or fifty.”
Thomas Cottam, 21 years old, of Liverpool, the Marconi operator on the
Carpathia, was the first witness at the evening session.
He denied himself some glory by saying he had no stated hours for labor
on the Carpathia. Previous witnesses had testified he was not “on duty”
when he received the Titanic’s signal for help.
UNCERTAIN AS TO THE KIND OF WORK.
He was decidedly uncertain whether he was required to work at night,
finally saying it depended on whether he had commercial or ship’s
business to get off.
“What were you doing last Sunday evening about 10 o’clock?” asked
Senator Smith. “Receiving news from Cape Cod,” said Cottam. He said he
had also been “sending a lot of messages for the Titanic.”
“Had you closed your station for the night?” “No.”
“What do you do when you close your station?” “Switch the storage
battery out,” said Cottam.
“Does that prevent receiving or sending messages?” the Senator
continued. “No.”
“Does it lessen the likelihood of your getting a signal of any kind?”
“No, not in the least,” Cottam replied.
“You say the Carpathia wireless instruments would send a message about
250 miles with accuracy?” “Yes, sir.”
“Was there any thunder or lightning Sunday night?” “No, it was clear.”
“Well, how did you happen to catch the Titanic message of distress?”
“I was looking out for a confirmation by the steamer Parisian of a
previous message from the Parisian--a message that came some time in
the afternoon.”
“Did you hear the captain of the Carpathia testify here today?” “No.”
“He said you were about to retire and caught this Titanic distress
message rather providentially?” “Yes, sir.”
“How far had you got along in your arrangement to retire? Had you taken
off your clothes?” “Yes, my coat.”
“Did you have any instruments then?” “Yes, the telephones were on my
head. I was waiting for the Parisian’s answer. I had just called it.”
“How long would you have waited?” “Several minutes.”
“Would you have retired pretty soon, you think?” “Yes.”
“Well, when you got the distress message from the Titanic Sunday night,
how did you get it?” “I called the Titanic myself, sir.”
SENDING MESSAGES TO THE TITANIC.
“Who told you to call the Titanic?” “No one, sir. I did it of my own
free will. I asked the Titanic operator if he was aware that Cape Cod
had been sending messages for the Titanic.”
“What was the answer?” “‘Come at once’ was the message, sir,” said
Cottam.
“Was that all of it?” “No, the operator said, I think, ‘come at
once--this is a distress message. C. Q. D.’” Cottam testified.
When word of the Titanic’s distress was received, Operator Cottam said
he immediately sent them the position of the Carpathia and added that
they would hurry to the rescue.
“Get any reply to that?” asked Senator Smith. “Yes, sir; immediately.
They acknowledged receipt of it.”
The witness said the next communication with the Titanic was four
minutes later, when he confirmed the position of both vessels. At this
juncture the Frankfurt, of the North German Lloyd Line, broke in on the
communication, having heard the Titanic’s call for help. Later the
steamship Olympic also replied.
“What did you do then?” asked Senator Smith. “I called the attention
of the Titanic to the Olympic’s efforts to raise it,” answered the
witness. “The Titanic replied it could not hear because of the rush of
air and the noise made by the escaping steam.”
Immediately after telling the Titanic of the Olympic’s attempt to
get in communication with her, the former, the witness said, sought
the Olympic’s aid, reporting that it was “head down” and giving its
position. The Baltic broke in at this time, but its efforts to reach
the Titanic were without avail.
“I was in communication with the Titanic at regular intervals until the
final message,” said Cottam. “This was ‘come quick; our engine room is
filling up to the boilers.’”
“What was your condition?” asked Senator Smith. “I was desperately
tired. I was worked out,” answered Cottam, who was then excused.
The committee adjourned at 10.20 o’clock to meet at 10 o’clock the next
morning.
CHAPTER XX.
SURVIVING OPERATOR’S EXPERIENCES.
Surviving Operator’s Experiences--Tells Senator How He Escaped--Tale
of Suffering and Death--Managing Director’s Flight Balked--Long Hours
and Low Wages for Wireless Men--Refused Help from Frankfurt--Called
Its Operator a Fool--Laxity of Wireless--Denies Sending “Saved”
Message--Gave Warning of Ice.
With J. Bruce Ismay, managing director, and P. A. S. Franklin, general
manager of the White Star Line, Harold Thomas Cottam, wireless operator
on the Carpathia; Harold Bride, surviving operator of the Titanic,
the five surviving officers from the ill-fated ship and thirty of her
seamen in the custody of the sergeant-at-arms of the United States
Senate, Senator Smith, of Michigan, and Francis G. Newlands, of Nevada,
brought their investigation of the greatest sea horror of modern times
to a close so far as New York was concerned.
When the men of the Titanic, British seamen, had been heard under oath
by the committee they were allowed to return to their homes, where they
were subject to the call of their own government.
“We must hear the Englishmen first,” said Chairman Smith, a few
minutes before he and Senator Newlands left shortly after midnight for
Washington, “because they need to get back home as soon as possible. We
will be able to get the Americans whenever we want them.”
It had been suggested to Chairman Smith that the British Government
might offer objections to the keeping of British seamen in this country
under the circumstances.
“I am proceeding,” said Mr. Smith, “just as if there was not the
slightest possibility of such a protest. Should one come we will deal
with it at that time.”
The committee had in mind the drafting of important legislation as the
result of its hearing. Regulation of the use of the air by wireless
operators so as to prevent interference in times of wreck at sea is
one law that seemed almost sure to be enacted. Another was legislation
requiring not only American, but all foreign vessels using American
ports to be equipped with enough lifeboats to take off every passenger
and every member of the ship’s crew if need be. Patrol of the steamship
lanes for icebergs was another.
It seemed likewise not at all unlikely that the committee would
recommend and Congress enact a law requiring ships, at least those
under American registry, to carry two operators so that one may be on
duty while the other sleeps. The President seemed likely to be asked by
a joint resolution of Congress to open negotiations with foreign powers
to establish a new and much more southerly steamship lane across the
Atlantic by international agreement.
SENATE TO PROBE FALSE MESSAGE.
It developed that the Senate Committee intended to make one of the most
important features of its probing work and examination in the false
messages that were given out by the White Star Line office in New York
on Monday when it was said that the Titanic had struck an iceberg, but
that she was in tow of the Virginian, which was taking her to Halifax
and that all on board were safe.
Incident to the sudden close of the hearing was the story of Harold S.
Bride, the second and only surviving wireless operator of the Titanic.
His tale was one of suffering and of death.
He told of the final plunge of the vessel to its ocean burial. Its
captain’s end also was revealed. He leaped from the bridge when the
waters were closing over his ship.
In connection with the transfer of the hearing to Washington it was
intimated that the power of the Senate on federal territory would be
undisputed in getting at the real facts and no question of State rights
could arise to interfere.
Throughout the hearing, also, officials of the White Star Line had
portrayed the dangers of sailors’ boarding houses in New York as a
reason why those detained by the committee should be allowed to sail on
the Lapland, which left today.
Throughout the hearing Wireless Operator Bride, crippled as a result of
his experiences and seated in an invalid’s chair, told his story of the
last moments of the Titanic.
His narrative, drawn from him piecemeal by Senator Smith, of Michigan,
chairman of the committee, held enthralled the committee and the
audience.
When his ordeal was ended he was almost on the verge of collapse.
THE LAXITY OF THE WIRELESS
Another phase of the laxity of the wireless, so far as man is
concerned, was developed by the chairman. He drew from the witness an
acknowledgment that on Sunday evening Bride was sitting, the telephonic
apparatus strapped to his ears, adjusting his accounts, while the
steamship Californian, seeking to warn the Titanic that icebergs were
invading the lanes of ocean travel, called incessantly.
Bride said he heard the call but did not answer because he was “busy.”
It was not until a half hour later that the Californian, striving to
reach the steamship Baltic, reached also the Titanic, whereupon the
warning that three huge icebergs had been sighted, was noted by Bride
and verbally communicated to the liner’s captain.
“At this time, however, neither of us worried a bit. When we heard the
confusion on deck I went out to investigate and when I returned I found
Mr. Phillips sending out a “C. Q. D.” call, giving our position.
“We raised the Frankfurt first and then the Carpathia and the Baltic.
As I have said, we did not try for the Frankfurt for any length
of time, but concentrated our messages on the Carpathia, which had
answered that she was rushing to our aid.”
“From time to time either Mr. Phillips or I would go on deck to observe
the situation. The last time I went on deck I found the passengers
running around in confusion and there was almost a panic.
“They were seeking lifebelts. All of the large lifeboats were gone, but
there was one liferaft remaining. It had been lashed on the top of the
quarters on the boat deck. A number of men were striving to launch it.
“I went back to the wireless cabin then. Mr. Phillips was striving to
send out a final ‘C. Q. D.’ call. The power was so low that we could
not tell exactly whether it was being carried or not, for we were in a
closed cabin and we could not hear the crackle of the wireless at the
mast.
BOTH CARED FOR A WOMAN
Phillips kept on sending, however, while I buckled on his lifebelt and
put on my own. Then we both cared for a woman who had fainted and who
had been brought into our cabin.
“Then, about ten minutes before the ship sank, Captain Smith gave
word for every one to look to his own safety. I sprang to aid the men
struggling to launch the liferaft and we had succeeded in getting it to
the edge of the boat when a giant wave carried it away.
“I went with it and found myself underneath. Struggling through an
eternity, I finally emerged and was swimming one hundred and fifty feet
from the Titanic when she went down. I felt no suction as the vessel
plunged.
“I did not see Mr. Ismay at all. Captain Smith stuck to the bridge and,
turning, I saw him jump just as the vessel glided into the depths. He
had not donned a life belt, so far as I could see, and went down with
the ship.”
The witness showed so plainly the mental and physical strain under
which he was laboring that both Senators Newlands and Reed urged
Senator Smith to excuse him. After a few more interrogations Senator
Smith did so.
“I regret extremely having had to subject you to such an ordeal,”
he said, addressing Bride, “because of your condition. I would have
avoided it, if possible, but the committee thanks you most heartily for
the forbearance you have shown and the frankness of your testimony.”
Senator Smith then called what he evidently expected to be one of the
most important witnesses, Harold S. Bride, the sole surviving wireless
operator of the Titanic.
Crippled as a result of his experiences, he was wheeled in an invalid’s
chair to the table where the committee sat.
“Contrary to the usual procedure,” said Senator Smith, rising in his
place, “I must place you under oath. Raise your right hand.”
SENATE REPEATS THE OATH.
The witness, hand uplifted, listened while the Senator repeated the
oath. Then he bowed in assent. Bride said he was a native of London,
was 22 years old and had learned his profession in a British school of
telegraphy.
“What practical experience have you had?” asked Senator Smith.
“I have crossed to the States three times and to Brazil twice,” said
Bride.
Bride remembered receiving and sending messages relative to the speed
of the Titanic on its trial tests. After leaving Southampton on the
Titanic’s fatal trip he could not remember receiving or sending any
messages for Ismay. Senator Smith asked particularly about messages on
Sunday.
“I don’t remember, sir,” said Bride. “There was so much business
Sunday.”
He was asked if Captain Smith received or sent any messages Sunday.
“No, sir,” was the reply.
“How do you know he did not?”
“Because I see the messages Mr. Phillips takes when they are made up.”
“Were those for Sunday made up?”
“No, they never were.”
After testifying he made no permanent record of the iceberg warnings,
Bride insisted he gave the memorandum of the warning to the officer on
the watch. The name of the officer he could not tell.
“I know the officers by sight but not by name,” he said. He did not
inform Captain Smith.
Bride said he was in bed when the impact came. He was not alarmed at
the collision and remained in bed about ten minutes. He saw Phillips in
the operating room.
“He told me he thought the boat had been injured in some way and he
expected it would have to go back to the builders,” said Bride.
BETTER SEND OUT A CALL FOR ASSISTANCE.
The witness said that according to arrangement he relieved Phillips.
“Immediately the captain came in and said we had better send out a call
for assistance,” testified Bride. “Phillips asked if he wanted to send
a distress call. The captain said he did. I could read what Phillips
sent--C. Q. D.”
“How soon did he get a reply?”
“As far as I know, immediately. I could not hear what he received,
however.”
The witness told of having intercepted a message from the Californian
intended for the Baltic, which told of the presence of three huge
icebergs in the vicinity of the former vessel.
“I gave the message to the captain personally,” he said.
Bride did not take down the message and could not give its precise
form. “The Californian was seeking out the Baltic, and I merely noted
that it was an ice report and told the captain,” he said.
Under a fire of questions Bride acknowledged that a half hour
previously, or at 4.30 Sunday afternoon, he was working on his
accounts in the wireless room when he heard the Californian trying to
raise the Titanic. He did not respond, he said, because, he was “busy.”
“You had the telephone apparatus at your ear?” inquired Senator Smith,
in surprise.
“Yes, sir.”
“And you did not respond to the call?”
“No, sir.”
“Then a half hour later on, about five hours before the disaster, you
took the message when it was intended for another vessel, the Baltic?”
“Yes, sir.”
In an effort to determine whether the signal “C. Q. D.” might not have
been misunderstood by passing ships Senator Smith called upon Mr.
Marconi.
MEANING OF DIFFERENT CALLS.
“The C. Q.,” said Mr. Marconi, “is an international signal which meant
that all stations should cease sending except the one using the call.
The ‘D’ was added to indicate danger. The call, however, now has been
superseded by the universal call, ‘S. O. S’.”
Senator Smith then resumed the direct examination of Bride, who has
said the North German Lloyd was the first to answer the Titanic’s
distress signal.
“Have you heard it said that the Frankfurt was the ship nearest to the
Titanic?” the senator asked.
“Yes, sir; Mr. Phillips told me that.”
“How did he know?”
“By the strength of the signals,” said the witness, who added that the
Carpathia answered shortly after.
The witness said that twenty minutes later the Frankfurt operator
interrupted to ask “what was the matter?”
“What did you reply?” the senator inquired.
“Mr. Phillips said he was a fool and told him to keep out.”
There was no further effort to get the Frankfurt’s position.
Time after time Senator Smith asked in varying forms why the Titanic
did not explain in detail its condition to the Frankfurt.
“Any operator receiving C. Q. D. and the position of the ship, if he is
on the job,” said Bride, “would tell the captain at once.”
“Ask him if it would have taken longer to have sent ‘You are a fool,
keep out,’ than ‘we are sinking?’” suggested Senator Reed.
“Was your object in dismissing the somewhat tardy inquiry of the
Frankfurt due to your desire to hang on to a certainty, the Carpathia?”
inquired Senator Smith.
The witness said it was. “But under the circumstances could you not
with propriety send a detailed message to the Frankfurt?” Senator Smith
insisted.
“I did not think we could under the circumstances.”
BRIDE INTERROGATED.
“Would you still make the same reply if you were told that the
Frankfurt was twenty miles nearer to you than the Carpathia?”
Bride replied that the Carpathia was then on its way with its lifeboats
ready.
Mr. Marconi testified to the distress signals and said the Frankfurt
was equipped with Marconi wireless. He said the receipts of the signals
C. Q. D. by the Frankfurt’s operator should have been all sufficient to
send the Frankfurt to the immediate rescue.
Under questioning by Senator Smith Bride said that undoubtedly the
Frankfurt received all of the urgent appeals for help sent subsequently
to the Carpathia.
“Why did you not send the messages to the Frankfurt as well as to the
Carpathia?” asked Senator Smith.
“He would not have understood.”
The witness said that before leaving the cabin ten minutes before
the ship went down Phillips sent out a final C. Q. D. There was no
response, Bride saying the spark was then so weak that it probably did
not carry.
When Bride and Phillips stepped out on the beatdeck he said they found
persons rushing around in confusion. They were seeking life belts.
“There were no big lifeboats aboard at that time,” said Bride. “There
was a life raft over the officers quarters, which later was lost over
the side.”
The witness then told of his experience in following with a small boat
beneath which he nearly was drowned before he could extricate himself.
With a number of other survivors he clambored on the overturned boat.
“One of these was Phillips,” said the witness. “He died on the way to
the Carpathia and was buried later at sea.”
When Bride gained the bottom of the boat he found between 35 and 40 men
already there.
THE LAST MAN ABOARD.
“I was the last man invited aboard,” said Bride.
“Did any others seek to get on?”
“Yes, sir, dozens. We couldn’t take them.”
The witness said he did not see J. Bruce Ismay, and that the last he
saw of Captain Smith he was in the act of jumping from the bridge just
as the ship went down. He said he was swimming within 150 feet of the
ship when it went down and that he felt no suction.
Long before the hearing was resumed in the afternoon crowds besieged
the Waldorf-Astoria rooms, but few who had not been sought by the
committee were admitted.
C. P. Neil, commissioner of labor of the Department of Commerce and
Labor, and Representatives Levy and Livingston, of New York, were among
the visitors.
Senators Smith and Newlands conferred after luncheon for more than an
hour, and it was nearly 4 o’clock when they reached the committee room.
“Is Mr. Bride, the operator of the Titanic, here?” Senator Smith asked
of Mr. Marconi and Mr. Sammis, of the Marconi Company.
They told him that Mr. Bride had been sent to a physician, but could
be brought back later. The senator said he wanted to ask the operator
several additional questions, but could postpone them.
The second officer of the Titanic, C. H. Lightoller, was called by
Senator Smith, but was not present, and the third officer of the
Titanic, Herbert John Pittman, took the stand.
“Do you know of your own knowledge whether the Titanic’s ship’s log was
preserved or taken from the Titanic?” asked Senator Smith.
“I do not.”
After the hearing adjourned Senator Smith made a statement to the press
in which he explained the intentions of the committee. He said:
“The object of the committee in coming to New York coincidental with
the arrival of the Carpathia was prompted by the desire to avail itself
of first-hand information from the active participants in this sad
affair. Our course has been guided solely by this purpose--to obtain
accurate information without delay.”
CHAPTER XXI.
THE FUNERAL SHIP AND ITS DEAD.
116 Buried at Sea--Nearly All Sailors--No Prominent Men Buried--No
Bullet Wounds Found--Halifax’s Bells Toll For Dead--Astor’s Body
Identified--Death Ship’s Voyage--The Captain’s Story--Canon Hind’s
Narrative.
The cable ship Mackay-Bennett which had been sent out to recover
as many as possible of the Titanic’s dead, reached her pier in the
dockyard at Halifax, Nova Scotia, the nearest port, at 9.30 on the
morning of April 30, almost exactly two weeks after the disaster.
Down the gangway to the pier in the sunlight of a perfect April day
they carried 190 of those who had started forth on the maiden voyage of
the biggest ship afloat.
In her quest the Mackay-Bennett had found 306 of the Titanic’s dead,
but only 190 were brought to shore. The rest, the 116, were buried at
sea. And 57 of those 116 were among the identified dead.
Of those who were brought to shore, 60 lay unnamed at the curling rink
on the edge of the town. It was believed that the 60 were all members
of the Titanic’s crew, but the slender hope that their own dead might
be among them sent many to the rink.
One of the sixty was a little baby girl. Five of them were women, but
none of the women that were found were from the first cabin passengers.
There was no hope that the body of Mrs. Straus was among them. There
was practically no hope that Major Butt was among the unnamed sixty.
The quest of the Mackay-Bennett bore greater results than were
anticipated, and Capt. Lardner believed that his ship recovered about
all of those who did not go down in the Titanic.
The search was continued over five days, sometimes with the ship
drifting without success amid miles and miles of wreckage, tables,
chairs, doors, pillows, scattered fragments of the luxury that was the
White Star liner Titanic.
At other times the bodies were found close together, and once they
saw more than a hundred that looked to the wondering crew of the
Mackay-Bennett like a flock of sea gulls in the fog, so strangely did
the ends of the life belts rise and fall with the rise and fall of the
waves.
Those whose dead the Mackay-Bennett brought to shore came forward with
their claims, and from the middle of the afternoon the rest of the day
was filled with the steps of identification and the signing of many
papers.
The first to be claimed was John Jacob Astor and for his death was
issued the first “accidental drowning” death certificate of the
hundreds who lost their lives in the wreck of the Titanic.
Vincent Astor and Nicholas Biddle started for New York with the body
the next night.
THE BODY OF ISADORE STRAUS IDENTIFIED.
The second identified was Isidor Straus. The start for New York was
made early the next morning. Three went on the same night. These were
George E. Graham, Milton C. Long, and C. C. Jones. Lawrence Millett has
identified his father.
Friends quickly took charge of the bodies of E. H. Kent, W. D.
Douglass, Timothy McCarty, George Rosenshine, E. C. Ostby, E. G.
Crosby, William C. Porter, A. O. Holverson, Emil Brandies, Thomas
McCafferty, Wykoff Vanderhoef, and A. S. Nicholson.
Sharp and distinct in all the tidings the Mackay-Bennett brought to
shore the fact stands out that fifty-seven of those who were identified
on board were recommitted to the sea. Of the 190 identified dead that
were recovered from the scene of the Titanic wreck only 130 were
brought to Halifax.
This news, which was given out almost immediately after the death ship
reached her pier, was a confirmation of the suspicion that in the last
few days had seized upon the colony of those waiting here to claim
their dead.
Yet it came as a deep, a stirring surprise. It stunned the White Star
men who have had to direct the work from Halifax.
They had been confidently posting the names of the recovered as the
wireless brought the news in from the Atlantic. When the suspicion
arose that some of the identified might have been buried at sea the
White Star people said that they did not know, but they were working
on the assumption that Capt. Lardner would bring them all to port, and
that only the unidentifiable had been recommitted to the sea.
THE UNNAMED DEAD.
Then they learned that the Mackay-Bennett had brought in sixty
unidentified. The hallway of the curling rink where the dead were
removed from the cable ship was thronged all afternoon with friends and
relatives eager beyond expression to see those unnamed dead, but the
attention of the embalmers was turned to those already identified, for
whom the claimants were waiting. For the most part the unidentified
could not be viewed until the next morning.
One of them was thought to be Arthur White, a member of the Titanic’s
crew.
The suspense was acute. Yet those who were most anxious for the morrow
to come knew that hope was of the slenderest. They knew that the
nameless sixty were almost all members of the crew. Capt. Lardner said
that he was sure of it. He knew it by the clothes they wore.
As to the fifty-seven identified dead that were buried at sea, the
whole colony was stirred by pity that it had to be, and not a few
wonder if it really had to be, a wonder fed by the talk of some of the
embalmers. Yet few were immediately concerned, most of those in Halifax
were waiting for men who sailed first cabin of the Titanic. It appears
that only one of these was among the ones who were buried at sea. This
was Frederick Sutton, of Philadelphia. The large majority were either
members of the Titanic’s crew or steerage passengers.
Of the 116 that Capt. Lardner thought best to return to the sea,
he explained that the unidentified seemed unidentifiable, that the
identified were too mutilated to bring to shore.
“Let me say first of all,” he announced when the reporters gathered
around him, “that I was commissioned to bring aboard all the bodies
found floating, but owing to the unanticipated number of bodies found,
owing to the bad weather and other conditions it was impossible to
carry out instructions, so some were committed to the deep after
service, conducted by Canon Hind.”
Capt. Lardner explained that neither he nor any of his people had
dreamed that so many of the Titanic’s dead would be found floating on
the surface of the Atlantic.
ONLY 106 BODIES PRESERVED.
It was more than his embalmer could handle, for, although the material
for embalming seventy bodies, which was all that Halifax sent out with
the Mackay-Bennett, was supplemented at sea by materials borrowed from
the Minia, the number of dead so preserved for the return to shore was
only 106.
He did not know how long he would have to stay at his grim work on the
scene of the wreck. He did not know how long bad weather would impede
the homeward voyage.
He did not know how long he could safely carry the multitude of dead.
It seemed best to recommit some to the sea, and so on three different
days 116 were weighted down and dropped over the edge of the ship into
the Atlantic.
Then rose the question as to why some were picked for burial at sea
and others left on board to be brought home to the waiting families on
shore. The reporters put the question to the Captain, and he answered
it:
“No prominent man was recommitted to the deep. It seemed best to embalm
as quickly as possible in those cases where large property might be
involved. It seemed best to be sure to bring back to land the dead
where the death might give rise to such questions as large insurance
and inheritance and all the litigation.
“Most of those who were buried out there were members of the Titanic’s
crew. The man who lives by the sea ought to be satisfied to be buried
at sea. I think it is the best place. For my own part I should be
contented to be committed to the deep.”
To emphasize the uncertainty of the task he directed, Capt. Lardner
pointed silently to the forward hold, where an hour before those on the
pier had seen the dead lying side by side on the floor, each in the
wrapping of tarpaulin.
“They were ready for burial,” the Captain said. “We had the weights in
them, for we didn’t know when we should have to give them up.”
A FEW MORE BODIES RECOVERED.
To those who hoped to find their own among the unidentified in the
curling ring to-morrow Capt. Lardner held out little encouragement
except the prospect that the quest of the Minia may result in a few
more bodies being recovered. He believed that his own ship gathered in
most of those who were kept afloat by the lifebelts.
Almost all of the rest, in his opinion, went down with the rush of
waters that closed over the Titanic, driving them down in the hatchways
and holding the dead imprisoned in the great wreck.
Survivors told of many pistol shots heard in those dark moments when
the last lifeboats were putting off, and though the pier on the night
the Carpathia landed was astir with rumors of men shot down as they
fought to save their lives, not one of the bodies that were recovered
yesterday had any pistol shots, according to Capt. Lardner and the
members of his crew.
The mutilations which marked so many were broken arms and legs and
crushed skulls, where the living on the Titanic were swept against the
stanchions by the onrush of the sea.
The little repair shop on the Mackay-Bennett was a treasure house when
she came to port. Fifteen thousand dollars in money was found on the
recovered bodies and jewelry that will be worth a king’s ransom. One
of the crew related his experience with one dead man whose pockets he
turned inside out only to have seventeen diamonds roll out in every
direction upon the littered deck.
It was a little after 9.30 that the Mackay-Bennett was sighted by those
waiting for her since the break of day. For it was in the chill of 6
o’clock on a Canadian Spring morning that the people began to assemble
on the pier in the dockyard.
They were undertakers for the most part, mingling with the newspaper
men who hurried to and fro between the water’s edge and the little bell
tent set up a few yards back to guard the wires that were to flash the
news to the ends of the continent.
WATCH FOR MEN WITH CAMERAS.
The dockyard was patrolled by twenty members of the crew and four
petty officers from H. M. C. S. Niobe and by a squad of men from the
Dominion police, who were instructed to keep out all without passes
countersigned by the commandant, and who were particularly vigilant in
the watch for men with cameras.
Just as the death ship reached her pier, and in the midst of the eager
movement forward to learn what news she brought from the scene of
the Titanic’s wreck, a little tug was spotted near by, and Commander
Martin, in charge of the dockyard, scented a moving picture man.
In a very few moments he was putting out for the tug in the little
patrol launch. Again a few moments and he was standing on the pier with
a complacent smile on his face.
“I have the films,” he said in explanation, so the privacy was guarded.
The friends and relatives of those who were lost when the great
liner went down were urged not to assume the ordeal of meeting the
Mackay-Bennett. Almost without exception they followed this advice, and
only a scattering few could be seen among those waiting on the pier.
In all the crowd of men, officials, undertakers, and newspaper men,
there was just one woman, solitary, spare, clasping her heavy black
shawl tightly around her.
This was Eliza Lurette, for more than thirty years in the service
of Mrs. William August Spencer, who was waiting at her home on East
Eighty-sixth Street, New York, while Miss Lurette had journeyed to
Halifax to seek the body of Mr. Spencer, who went down with the Titanic.
So the crowd that waited on the pier was made up almost entirely of men
who had impersonal business there, and the air was full of the chatter
of conjecture and preparation.
Then, warned by the tolling of the bells up in the town, a hush fell
upon the waiting people. The gray clouds that had overcast the sky
parted, and the sun shone brilliantly on the rippling water of the
harbor as the Mackay-Bennett drew alongside her pier.
THE DEAD LAY EVERYWHERE.
Capt. Lardner could be seen upon the bridge. The crew hung over the
sides, joyously alive and glad to be home. But in every part of the
ship the dead lay. High on the poop deck coffins and rough shells were
piled and piled.
Dead men in tarpaulins lined the flooring of the cable-wells both fore
and aft, so that there was hardly room for a foot to be put down. And
in the forward hold dead men were piled one upon another, their eyes
closed as in sleep, and over them all a great tarpaulin was stretched.
Those that pressed forward to see were sickened and turned back.
The business of moment was to discharge that freight, and this was done
with all possible dispatch.
The uncoffined dead were carried down in stretchers, placed in the
rough shells that were piled upon the pier, and one by one driven up
the slope and into the town in the long line of hearses and black
undertaker’s wagons that had been gathered from every quarter. It was
speedily done, but quietly and without irreverent haste.
For two hours this business proceeded before anyone could go upon the
pier and the sounds were like the hum of a small factory. There were
the muffled orders, the shuffling and tramping of feet, the scraping
as of packing boxes drawn across the rough flooring and the eternal
hammering that echoed all along the coal sheds.
Two hours it was before any one could go on board, and then came
another hour when the coffins were swung down from the deck and piled
up on the wharf ready for the removal that took until well into the
middle of the afternoon.
Few of the relatives were allowed to pass beyond the cordon that
stretched all about the pier at which the dead were landed.
One of the first to get through the lines and the first of all the
waiting crowd to make his way aboard after the ship reached her pier
was Capt. Richard Roberts, of the Astor yacht, who was filled with a
great concern at the news that had come from the Widener party.
NOT MR. WIDENER.
For long before the Mackay-Bennett reached her pier it was established
as definitely as it may ever be established that the man who was
picked up at sea for George D. Widener was not Mr. Widener, but his
man-servant Edward Keating.
Although the name was sent in by wireless, a later examination of the
dead man’s clothing and effects proved that it was Keating’s body. A
letter in the pocket was addressed to Widener, but the coat was labeled
“E. K.” and the garments were of an inferior quality. Identification
by features was out of the question, for the dead man had been struck
by some spar or bit of wreckage, and the face was mutilated past
recognition. He was buried at sea, and the news sent on to the waiting
family.
Young Mr. Widener, who had been waiting here for a week with a private
car to carry the body of his father home to Philadelphia, had heard of
the uncertainty, and in a fever of impatience he met the Mackay-Bennett
at Quarantine, went over the effects with Captain Lardner, and was
satisfied that it was Keating whose body was found and who was later
committed to the deep.
The haunting fear that this same error might have been made in the
case of Colonel Astor had possession of the whole Astor party and grew
acute as the Widener story went out. That was what sent Captain Roberts
hurrying to the ship. He was admitted and saw for himself. The coffin
top was removed on board.
The plain gold ring with the two little diamonds set deep, the gold
buckle on the belt that Colonel Astor always wore, and a sum amounting
to nearly $3000 in the pockets settled the uncertainty. Twenty minutes
after he had boarded the ship Captain Roberts was hurrying through the
crowd to reach the nearest telephone that he might speed the news to
waiting Vincent Astor.
QUESTIONS OF IDENTITY.
Beyond these two cases the questions of identity were taken up at the
Mayflower Curling Rink at the edge of the town, where the line of
hearses had been trundling since the Mackay-Bennett landed. As they
passed the crowds were hushed, men bowed their heads, and officers
saluted.
At the rink the great main floor was given over to the coffins and
shells containing the identified dead, and as soon as the embalmers
had done their work the friends and relatives came forward and claimed
their own.
Upstairs in the large, bare room the packets of clothing were
distributed in rows upon the floor.
There the oak chests of the Provincial Cashier were opened for the
sorting of the canvas bags that contained the valuables, the letters
and the identifying trinkets of the dead. It was all very systematic.
It was all very much businesslike, and while a lunch counter served
refreshments to the weary workers, and while the Intercolonial set up a
desk for railway tickets, the Medical Examiner was busy issuing death
certificates, and the Registrar was issuing burial permits, all to the
accompanying click, click of several typewriters.
A satisfactory arrangement was reached as to the disposition of the
personal effects. A man would claim his dead, take the number, make his
way to the representatives of the Provincial Secretary, and there claim
the contents of the little canvas bag by making affidavit that he was
the duly authorized representative of the executor or next of kin.
The little crimson tickets that are the death certificates were printed
for the tragedies of every day in the year. Their formal points and
dimensions seemed hopelessly inadequate for even the briefest statement
of the tragedy of the Titanic.
CERTIFICATE FOR THE DEAD.
The first body claimed and removed from the rink was that of John Jacob
Astor. The certificate, the first issued for one of the Titanic dead,
reads:
Name of deceased--John Jacob Astor. Sex--M. Age--47. Date of
death--April 15, 1912. Residence, street, etc.--840 Fifth Av. N. Y.
C. Occupation--Gentleman. Married. Cause--Accidental drowning. S. S.
Titanic at sea. Length of illness--Suddenly. Name of physician in
attendance.
Such details as these filled the day.
After the greater part of the Titanic’s dead had been shifted from the
Mackay-Bennett to the pier, Captain Lardner descended to the dining
saloon, and with the reporters from all over the country gathered
around the table, he opened the ship’s log and, slowly tracing his
fingers over the terse entries, he told them the story of the death
ship’s voyage.
Lardner is English by birth and accent, and tall and square of build,
with a full brown beard and eyes of unusual keenness.
“We left Halifax,” he began, “shortly after noon on Wednesday, April
17, but fog and bad weather delayed us on the run out, and we did not
get there till Saturday night at 8 o’clock.
“We asked all ships to report to us if they passed any wreckage or
bodies, and on Saturday at noon we received a communication from the
German mailboat steamship Rhein to the effect that in latitude 42.1.
N. longitude 49.13, she had passed wreckage and bodies.
“The course was shaped for that position. Later in the afternoon we
spoke to the German steamship Bremen, and they reported having passed
three large icebergs and some bodies in 42 N. 49.20 W.
“We arrived on the scene at 8 o’clock Saturday evening, and then we
stopped and let the ship drift. It was in the middle of the watch that
some of the wreckage and a few bodies were sighted.
“At daylight the boats were lowered, and though there was a heavy sea
running at the time, fifty-one bodies were recovered.”
The Rev. Canon K. C. Hinds, rector of All Saints’ Cathedral, who
officiated at the burial of 116 bodies, the greatest number consigned
to the ocean at one time, tells the story of the Mackay-Bennett’s trip
as follows:
OUR JOURNEY SLOW.
We left Halifax shortly after noon on April 17, and had not proceeded
far when fog set in so that our journey was slow. We reached the
vicinity of the wreckage on Saturday evening. Early on Sunday morning
the search for bodies began, when the captain and other officers of the
ship kept a lookout from the bridge.
Soon the command was given “Stand by the boat!” and a little later the
lifeboat was lowered and the work begun of picking up the bodies as
they were pointed out in the water to the crew.
Through the day some fifty were picked up. All were carefully examined
and their effects placed in separate bags, all bodies and bags being
numbered.
It was deemed wise that some of them should be buried. At 8 P. M.
the ship’s bell was tolled to indicate all was in readiness for the
service. Standing on the bow of the ship as she rocked to and fro, one
gazed at the starry heavens and across the boundless deep, and to his
mind the psalmist’s words came with mighty force:
“Whither shall I go then from Thy spirit, or whither shall I go then
from Thy presence? If I ascend up to heaven Thou art there, I make
my bed in the grave, Thou art there also. If I take the wings of the
morning and dwell in the uttermost part of the sea, even there shall
Thy hand lead me, and Thy right hand shall hold me.”
In the solemn stillness of the early night, the words of that unequaled
burial office rang across the waters: “I am the resurrection and the
life, saith the Lord. He that believeth in Me shall never die.”
When the time of committal came these words were used over each body:
COMMIT HIS BODY TO THE DEEP.
“Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God to take up to Himself the
soul of our dear brother departed, we, therefore, commit his body to
the deep to be turned to corruption, looking for the resurrection of
the body (when the seas shall give up her dead) and the life of the
world to come, through Jesus Christ Our Lord, who shall change our vile
body, that it may be like unto His glorious body, according to the
mighty working whereby He is able to subdue all things to Himself.”
The prayers from the burial service were said, the hymn “Jesus, Lover
of My Soul,” sung and the blessing given.
Any one attending a burial at sea will most surely lose the common
impression of the awfulness of a grave in the mighty deep. The wild
Atlantic may rage and toss, the shipwrecked mariners cry for mercy, but
far below in the calm untroubled depth they rest in peace.
On Monday the work began again early in the morning, and another day
was spent in searching and picking up the floating bodies and at night
a number were buried. On Tuesday the work was still the same until the
afternoon, when the fog set in, and continued all day Wednesday.
Wednesday was partly spent in examining bodies, and at noon a number
were committed to the deep. Thursday came in fine and from early
morning until evening the work went on.
During the day word came that the cable ship Minia was on her way to
help and would be near us at midnight.
“Early on Friday some more bodies were picked up. The captain then
felt we had covered the ground fairly well and decided to start on our
homeward way at noon. After receiving some supplies from the Minia we
bid good-bye and proceeded on our way.
“The Mackay-Bennett succeeded in finding 306 bodies, of which 116 were
buried at sea, and one could not help feeling, as we steamed homeward,
that of those bodies we had on board it would be well if the greater
number of them were resting in the deep.
“It is to be noted how earnestly and reverently all the work was done
and how nobly the crew acquitted themselves during a work of several
days which meant a hard and trying strain on mind and body.
“What seems a very regrettable fact is that in chartering the
Mackay-Bennett for this work the White Star Company did not send an
official agent to accompany the steamer in her search for the bodies.
CHAPTER XXII.
INQUIRY BY UNITED STATES SENATE.
Loading at the Rail--Inadequate Life-saving Appliances--No Extra
Lookout--Searchlights Blinding--Wireless Rivals Not All Aroused--Went
to Death in Sleep--Scratch Seamen--Cries of Agony--A Pitiful
Story--Senators Ascertain Pertinent Facts--Much Good Accomplished.
What has been accomplished by the Senatorial inquiry into the loss of
the Titanic with sixteen hundred lives?
For more than a week of the two that have elapsed since the Titanic
made a record on her maiden voyage--a record never paralleled in
marine history for its horrors, its sacrifice of life and material
property--an earnest body of United States Senators has been at work
conscientiously striving to uncover the facts, not alone for the
purpose of placing the responsibility for what has now become one of
the most heart-rending chapters of all ocean history, but also in the
hope of framing remedial legislation looking to the prevention of its
recurrence.
To attempt to draw conclusions as to the value of the work of a
committee which is yet upon the threshold of its task would be
presumptuous, but it is not too soon to present and formulate some of
the pertinent facts which its researches have established in the light
of sworn evidence.
Any attempt at systematic analysis of the facts deduced from the many
thousand of pages of testimony already taken naturally divided itself
into two departments:
Were the Titanic’s equipment and her general state of preparedness such
as to justify the broad claims made in her behalf before the crisis
arose, that she represented the acme of human possibility not only in
ocean going comfort and speed but also in safety at sea?
Were the personnel and discipline of her officers and crew of such
a standard that, after the supreme crisis confronted them, they
utilized to the best advantage such facilities for the safeguarding and
preservation of life as remained at their disposal?
With ten thousand families on both sides of the Atlantic mourning the
untimely death of relatives and friends who went down into the depths
from the decks of a brand new ship, widely proclaimed the greatest and
the safest that ever ploughed the sea, these are, after all, the most
pertinent questions that may be asked by a sorrowing world as it looks
to the future rather than the past.
LIFE-SAVING APPARATUS INADEQUATE.
It has been demonstrated--and frankly conceded by the company’s
managers and officers in the light of after knowledge--that the
Titanic’s life-saving appliances were woefully inadequate to the
safeguarding of even one-half her complement of passengers and crew.
On the day after the disaster was known to the world it was shown that
the ship’s equipment of lifeboats complied with the requirements of the
English Board of Trade, but that those requirements were so obsolete
and antiquated that they dated back to 1898 and were drafted to provide
for vessels of less than one-quarter the gross tonnage of the mammoth
craft of 46,000 tons of displacement.
The Titanic carried on her boat deck--sometimes referred to as her
sun deck--fourteen of the largest regulation size lifeboats, seven
on her port side and seven on the starboard. Each of these had a
carrying capacity, according to the Board of Trade’s established
method of computation, of 65.5 persons. Their aggregate capacity when
afloat, therefore, was 917. The ship carried, in addition, four of
the so-called collapsible boats and two others known as emergency
boats-comparatively small craft employed in occasional duty--as when a
man falls overboard.
The combined capacity of these six when afloat was hardly more than
sufficient to care for two hundred persons. At the most liberal
estimate, therefore, the entire equipment of boats aboard the great
White Star liner might have afforded refuge, in the most favorable
conditions, to less than 1,200 persons, or not quite half the number
actually aboard the ship, on her maiden voyage.
In stating the lifeboat capacity the term “when afloat” has been used
advisedly. One of the points which each of the Titanic’s surviving
officers has emphasized in evidence is the vast difference between
loading with its human freight a boat that has been already placed
in the water and loading one “at the rail,” from a deck seventy feet
above the water, with the subsequent perils of lowering it by means of
the tackles sustaining its weight from bow and stern. Several of the
officers have said that, in lowering loaded boats from the rail of the
Titanic’s boat deck, they would consider it unwise and even dangerous
to fill the boats to more than one-half their rated capacity.
All the lifeboats that went away from the Titanic were loaded and
lowered from the rail. Some of the smaller collapsible and emergency
boats did not get away at all until the ship was so low in the water
that they were simply pushed overboard, and one of them went over
bottom up.
BOAT CARRIES 58 PERSONS.
Harold G. Lowe, the fifth officer, commanded a boat which carried
fifty-eight persons aboard. This, so far as is known, is the largest
number of passengers carried in any of the lifeboats. Mr. Lowe
testified that as his craft was lowered away from the davits he feared
momentarily that, as a result of the tremendous strain upon her
structure, she would buckle amidships and break before she reached the
sustaining surface of the water, dropping all into the sea. “Had one
more person leaped aboard her amidships as she was going down past the
other decks,” he said, “it might well have proved to be the last straw.”
Mr. Lowe feared this might happen, as he saw steerage passengers
“glaring at the boat” as it was lowered past the decks whereon they
stood. It was for that reason, he explained to the investigating
committee, that he discharged his revolver three times into the air
as he and his boatload were dropping past the three lower decks. His
purpose, he said, was to show that he was armed and to prevent any
effort to overload the craft beyond a point which he already considered
perilous.
C. H. Lightoller, second officer and ranking surviving officer of the
Titanic, expressed the opinion that, in filling lifeboats from the
Titanic’s boat deck, “at the rail,” it was involving serious risk to
load them to more than half their rated capacity for filling while
afloat. H. G. Boxhall, fourth officer, expressed a like view, but added
that in an extreme emergency one man might take more chances than
another.
In view of these expert opinions, it will be seen that, when it came to
loading the Titanic’s passengers into lifeboats “from the rail,” the
actual life-saving capacity of her available equipment was far less
than the one thousand or eleven hundred that might have been carefully
packed away into boats already resting safely on the surface of a calm
sea.
A PUZZLING QUERY.
And this consideration naturally suggests the query, Why were the
Titanic’s lifeboats all loaded “from the rail” of the topmost deck, at
a point fully seventy feet above the sea? Why were they not lowered
empty, or with only the necessary officers or crew aboard, and then
filled with their quota of passengers, either from some lower deck, or
else after they had reached the sustaining surface of the water?
It is evident that course was contemplated. Three of the surviving
officers have testified that the available force of seamen was depleted
after the ship struck, because a detail of men had been sent below to
open up the gangway doors, for the purpose of embarking the passengers
into the lifeboats from those outlets. There is nothing in evidence as
yet to show that this purpose was ever accomplished, or to reveal the
fate of the men sent to do the work.
Whether the men were unable or incompetent to force open the gangway
doors, from which the lowered boats might easily have been filled, as
the sea was as smooth as a mill pond; whether these outlets were jammed
as a result of collision with the berg, or stuck because the ship’s
mechanisms were new, has not been revealed and may never be known.
Certain it is that all the lifeboats were loaded “from the rail,” and
their safe capacity was thereby reduced one-half in the judgment of the
officers to whom their command was entrusted.
The inadequacy of the Titanic’s lifeboat appliances is not disputed.
Steamship companies are already vying with one another to correct in
this respect the admitted shortcomings of the past. The sole excuse
offered is that collision bulkheads, watertight compartments and other
like devices have been regarded until now as making the marvelous
vessels of the present day “their own best lifeboats.” The Titanic
and many of her sister ships of the ocean fleets have been called
“unsinkable.” They were generally believed to be so, and it is only
since this greatest of disasters has shattered many illusions that
marine engineers have confessed ruefully that the unsinkable ship has
never yet been launched.
PERILS MINIMIZED.
Since the day of the watertight compartment and of the wireless
telegraph sea perils have been so minimized that in the most extreme of
likely emergencies the function of the lifeboat had come to be regarded
as that of an ocean ferry capable of transferring passengers safely
and leisurely from an imperilled vessel to another standing by and
co-operating in the task.
That was all the lifeboat had to do when the Republic sank. That
was all they had to do years ago, when the Missouri, under Captain
Hamilton Murrell’s expert management, took off a thousand persons from
a foundering ship without the loss of a single life. So it had come to
be believed that the lifeboats would never be called upon to do more
than that, and least of all in the case of the Titanic, latest and most
superb of all the vessels built by man since the world began.
So deep rooted was this conviction in the minds of seagoing men
that when Senator Smith, of Michigan, chairman of the investigating
committee, asked one of the surviving officers: “What was the purpose
of the Titanic carrying her fourteen full-size lifeboats?” he naively
replied; “To comply, I suppose, with the regulations of the London
Board of Trade.”
There has been no evidence to indicate that the Titanic lacked the
proper number of life jackets, or life belts--one for every person
aboard the ship--and it has not been proven that these life belts
were not new and of proper quality and strength. Major Peuchen, of
Toronto, one of the surviving passengers, however, in the course of
his testimony, made two significant comments. He said that when the
Carpathia, on the morning after the disaster, steamed through a lot
of the Titanic’s floating wreckage, he was surprised to note great
quantities of broken bits of cork, such as are used in life preservers.
He was astonished also that he did not see a larger number of floating
bodies.
“I have always supposed,” said Major Peuchen, who is an experienced
yachtsman, “that a life preserver in good condition would sustain a
dead body as well as a live one.”
STEAMING AT 21 KNOTS.
It has been demonstrated by ample evidence that at the time the
Titanic hit the iceberg she was steaming at the undiminished speed
of twenty-one knots an hour into a zone littered with icebergs and
floating ice fields, warning of which her officers had received hours
before by wireless from several other ships, including the Amerika, of
the Hamburg-American Line. When day broke on Monday, according to Mr.
Lane, at least twenty icebergs surrounded the Carpathia, the largest of
which was 150 feet high. They were within a six-mile radius.
In the chart room, tucked into the corner of a frame above the table
where the navigating officers of the Titanic did their mathematical
work, was a written memorandum of the latitude and longitude wherein
two large icebergs had been reported directly in the track. Mr. Boxhall
had worked out this position under Captain Smith’s instructions. Mr.
Lightoller, the second officer, was familiar with it, and when his
watch ended at 10 o’clock Sunday night and he surrendered the post on
the bridge to the first officer, Mr. Murdock, the remark was made that
they would probably “be getting up into the ice during Mr. Murdock’s
watch.”
Despite all this the Titanic was rushing on, driving at railroad speed
toward the port of New York and “a record for a maiden voyage.”
It was a cloudless and starlit night with no sea running. No extra
lookout was posted in the “ship’s eyes,” the most advanced position
on the vessel’s deck. Up in the crow’s nest Fleet and Lee, both
experienced lookouts, were keeping a sharp watch forward. They had been
duly warned of ice by the pair of lookouts whom they had relieved.
UNAIDED BY SEA GLASSES.
But the men in the crow’s nest had to depend entirely upon the vision
of the naked eye. They had no glass to aid them. Fleet had occupied
a similar post of responsibility four years on the Oceanic without
mishap. His testimony before the committee was that he never before had
been without the aid of a glass. He had a pair of binoculars when the
ship made her trial trip from Belfast, but they had been mislaid, and
when the Titanic steamed out from Southampton he asked Mr. Lightoller
for another pair and was told that there was no glass for him. Fleet’s
warning was too late to prevent the impact. His testimony was that with
a glass he would have reported the berg in time to have prevented the
ship striking it.
When Quartermaster Hitchens came on watch at 10 o’clock the weather
had grown so cold that he, experienced seaman that he was, immediately
thought of icebergs, though it was no part of his duty to look out
for them. The thermometer showed thirty-one degrees, and the first
orders he received were to notify the ship’s carpenter to look to his
fresh-water supply because of the freezing weather, and to turn on the
steam-heating apparatus in the officers’ quarters.
Still no extra lookout was placed and the men in the crow’s nest were
straining their tired eyes ahead without the help of a lens.
Captain Arthur Rostrom, of the Carpathia, testified that when he was
rushing his ship to the aid of the stricken Titanic, taking unusual
chances because he knew lives were at stake, he placed a double watch
on duty.
Each of the surviving officers, when he was questioned as to the
Titanic’s speed at a time when the proximity of dangerous ice was
definitely reported and clearly indicated by the drop in temperature,
said that it was “not customary” to slacken speed at such times,
provided the weather was clear. The custom is, they said, “to go ahead
and depend upon the lookouts in the crow’s nest and the watch on the
bridge to ‘pick up’ the ice in time to avoid hitting it.”
Mr. Lowe, the fifth officer, who was crossing the Atlantic for the
first time in his life, most of his fourteen years’ experience at sea
having been in the southern and eastern oceans, yawned wearily in
the face of the examiner as he admitted that he had never heard that
icebergs were common off the Banks of Newfoundland and that the fact
would not have interested him if he had. He did not know that the
Titanic was following what is known as “the southern track,” and when
he was asked, ventured the guess that she was on the northerly one.
MIGHT HAVE BEEN SAVED BY SEARCHLIGHT.
Questions framed by Senator Smith several times have suggested that
the use of a searchlight might have saved the Titanic. War ships of
all nations make the searchlight a part of their regular equipment,
as is well known. The Titanic’s surviving officers agreed that it has
not been commonly used by vessels of the merchant marine. Some of them
conceded that in the conditions surrounding the Titanic its use on a
clear night might have revealed the iceberg in time to have saved the
ship. Major Peuchen, of Toronto, said emphatically that it would have
done so.
Mr. Lightoller, however, pointed out that, while the searchlight
is often a useful device for those who stand behind it, its rays
invariably blind those upon whom they are trained. Should the use of
searchlights become general upon merchant vessels, he thought, it would
be a matter for careful consideration, experiment and regulation.
The Senatorial inquiry has indicated that the single lifeboat drill
upon the Titanic had been a rather perfunctory performance; there had
been neither a boat drill nor a fire drill from the time the great ship
left Southampton until she struck the iceberg. While she lay in harbor
before starting on her maiden voyage, and with her port side against
the company pier, two of her lifeboats had been lowered away from her
starboard side, manned by a junior or a warrant officer and a crew of
four men each, who rowed them around a few minutes and then returned to
the ship.
There had also been an inspection in the home port to see whether
the lifeboats contained all the gear specified by the Board of Trade
regulations and Officer Boxhall testified that they did. Yet, when the
emergency came, many of the boats were found to contain no lights,
while others lacked extra oars, biscuits and other specified requisites.
UTILITY OF WATER-TIGHT COMPARTMENTS DOUBTED.
The Titanic’s loss has completely exploded the fallacy that watertight
compartments, of which the big ship had fifteen in her main divisions,
can save a vessel from foundering after having sustained a raking blow,
tearing and ripping out her plates from thirty feet aft of the bow
almost to midships.
Mr. Lightoller expressed the belief under oath that the starboard
side of the Titanic had been pierced through compartments 1, 2, 3 and
probably 4, numbering from the collision bulkhead toward the midship
section. The testimony of Quartermaster Hitchins showed that the
vessel filled so fast that when the captain looked at the commutator
five minutes after the ship struck, the Titanic showed a list of five
degrees to starboard. Rushing water drove the clerks out of the mail
room before they could save their letter bags.
One reform that is likely to take shape early as a result of the
Senatorial investigation is a more thorough regulation of wireless
telegraphy both in shore stations and on ships at sea. Interference
by irresponsible operators will probably be checked by governmental
action, and the whole subject may come up for uniform international
regulation in the Berlin conference.
It is conceded that on all ships the receiving apparatus of the
wireless instruments should be manned at all hours of the day and
night, just as are the ship’s bridge and the engine rooms. The Senate
inquiry has showed that had the death call of the Titanic gone out five
minutes later it would never have reached the Carpathia, whose one
wireless operator was about to retire for the night when he heard the
signal that took the Cunarder to the rescue of the seven hundred who
survived.
There has been shown, too, grave need of some cure for the jealousies
and rivalries between competing systems of wireless. To the Frankfurt,
which was one of the nearest, if not the nearest, of the several ships
to the sinking Titanic, her operator sent the curt message, “Shut
up!” From the Californian the operator refused to take a message,
which proved to be an ice warning, because “he was busy with his
accounts.” With the sanction of high officers of their company wireless
operators have suppressed vital public information for the purpose of
commercializing their exclusive knowledge for personal profit.
So much for the Titanic’s boasted equipment--or the lack of it. There
remains to be summarized the evidence adduced as to the personnel and
discipline, as these were indicated by what occurred after the ship
confronted the direst of all emergencies.
The Titanic was expected to make a record on her maiden voyage. She
made one unapproached in ocean annals; one which, it is hoped, may long
stand unparalleled.
REPORT CENSURES CAPTAIN OF CALIFORNIAN.
Says All Passengers Might Have been Saved but for Captain Lord’s
Indifference.
TITANIC COMMITTEE’S REPORT.
That the Titanic was rushing at a speed of 24½ miles an hour when she
crashed into the iceberg.
That of 2223 persons aboard, only 32 per cent. were saved.
That all might have been saved but for “negligent indifference” of the
steamship Californian to the Titanic’s distress signals.
That those rescued comprised: Sixty per cent. of the first-class
passengers, 42 per cent. of second-class, 25 per cent. of third-class
and 24 per cent. of the crew.
That four warnings of “ice ahead” were ignored by the Titanic’s
officers.
That the Titanic struck at 10.13 P. M. on Sunday, April 14, and sank
at 12.47 A. M. (New York time) on April 15.
That eight vessels were near at time of the collision with the iceberg
and only the Carpathia went to the assistance of the Titanic.
That there was no panic, but a “short” crew, poorly drilled and poorly
commanded, only enough men to partially man the twenty lifeboats.
Teeming with eloquence, combining praise for heroism and scathing
rebuke for negligence and cowardice in the most appalling marine
tragedy of history, was the final and official requiem on May 28 in
the Senate for the victims of the Titanic. Senator Smith, of Michigan,
chairman of the Senate Investigating Committee, summed up his views of
the evidence developed.
That every soul aboard the giant liner might have been saved but for
the indifference, inattention and almost criminal neglect of Captain
Stanley Lord and the other officers of the Californian was the most
startling charge Smith bitterly made.
“Needless sacrifice” of at least five hundred lives because the
“strangely insufficient number of life boats” were not filled was also
charged.
“Obsolete and antiquated shipping laws” and “laxity of regulation and
hasty inspection” by the British Board of Trade were denounced by
Smith. As a contributory cause he named the indifference of Captain
Smith, of the Titanic, for ignoring ice warnings and forcing the
Titanic full speed through the northern waters. That Captain Smith had
expiated his offense by a heroic death was Smith’s tribute to the dead
commander.
LACK OF DISCIPLINE ARRAIGNED.
Lack of discipline among the crew and cowardice of some of its members
indicated after the crash was scathingly arraigned. To the two Titanic
wireless operators--Phillips and Bride--the speaker paid a glowing
tribute. He lauded Captain Rostrom, of the rescue ship, Carpathia.
In eloquent terms the chairman, Senator Smith, depicted the folly of
sending out the greatest ship afloat without sufficiently testing a
strange crew and with no drills or discipline. The Titanic, he said,
was following the proper course, although one known to be dangerous
at that season, but the speed was gradually and continually increased
until the maximum was the death-blow.
Rebuke for those in half-filled lifeboats who “stood by” and refused
aid to struggling, drowning swimmers until “all the noise had ceased”
was voiced.
“Upon that broken hull,” the Senator concluded, “new vows were taken,
new fealty expressed, old love renewed, and those who had been devoted
in life went proudly and defiantly on the last life pilgrimage
together. In such a heritage we must feel ourselves more intimately
related to the sea than ever before, and henceforth it will send back
to us on its rising tide the cheerful salutations from those we have
lost.
“At 10 o’clock on that fateful Sunday evening this latest maritime
creation was cutting its first pathway through the North Atlantic Ocean
with scarcely a ripple to retard its progress.
“From the builders’ hands she was plunged straightway to her fate and
christening salvos acclaimed at once her birth and death. Builders of
renown had launched her on the billows with confident assurance of her
strength, while every port rang with praise for their achievement;
shipbuilding to them was both a science and a religion; parent ships
and sister ships had easily withstood the waves, while the mark of
their hammer was all that was needed to give assurance of the high
quality of the work.
“In the construction of the Titanic no limit of cost circumscribed
their endeavor, and when this vessel took its place at the head of the
line every modern improvement in shipbuilding was supposed to have been
realized; so confident were they that both owner and builder were eager
to go upon the trial trip; no sufficient tests were made of boilers or
bulkheads or gearing or equipment, and no life-saving or signal devices
were reviewed; officers and crew were strangers to one another and
passengers to both.
PASSENGERS AND CREW STUPEFIED.
“Neither was familiar with the vessel or its implements or tools;
no drill or station practice or helpful discipline disturbed the
tranquillity of that voyage, and when the crisis came a state of
absolute unpreparedness stupefied both passengers and crew and, in
their despair, the ship went down, carrying as needless a sacrifice of
noble women and brave men as ever clustered about the judgment seat in
any single moment of passing time.
“We shall leave to the honest judgment of England its painstaking
chastisement of the British Board of Trade, to whose laxity of
regulation and hasty inspection the world is largely indebted for this
awful fatality. Of contributing causes there were very many. In the
face of warning signals, speed was increased and messages of danger
seemed to stimulate her to action rather than to persuade her to fear.
“Captain Smith knew the sea and his clear eye and steady hand had often
guided his ship through dangerous paths. For forty years storms sought
in vain to vex him or menace his craft. But once before in all his
honorable career was his pride humbled or his vessel maimed. Each new
advancing type of ship built by his company was handed over to him as
a reward for faithful service and as an evidence of confidence in his
skill.
“Strong of limb, intent of purpose, pure in character, dauntless as
a sailor should be, he walked the deck of this majestic structure as
master of her keel, titanic though she was. His indifference to danger
was one of the direct and contributing causes of this unnecessary
tragedy, while his own willingness to die was the expiating evidence of
his fitness to live.
OVERCONFIDENCE AND NEGLECT.
“Those of us who knew him well--not in anger, but in sorrow--file one
specific charge against him, overconfidence and neglect to heed the
oft-repeated warnings of his friends; but, in his horrible dismay,
when his brain was afire with honest retribution, we can still see, in
his manly bearing and his tender solicitude for the safety of women
and little children, some traces of his lofty spirit when dark clouds
lowered all about him and angry elements stripped him of his command.
“His devotion to his craft, even as it writhed and twisted and
struggled for mastery over its foe, calmed the fears of many of the
stricken multitude who hung upon his words, lending dignity to a
parting scene as inspiring as it is beautiful to remember.
“Life belts were finally adjusted and the lifeboats were cleared away,
and, although strangely insufficient in number, were only partially
loaded, and in instances unprovided with compasses and only three of
them had lamps. They were manned so badly that, in the absence of
prompt relief, they would have fallen easy victims to the advancing ice
floe, nearly thirty miles in width and rising sixteen feet above the
surface of the water.
“Their danger would have been as great as if they had remained on the
deck of the broken hull, and if the sea had risen these toy targets,
with over 700 exhausted people, would have been helplessly tossed
about upon the waves without food or water. The lifeboats were
filled so indifferently and lowered so quickly that, according to the
uncontradicted evidence, nearly 500 persons were needlessly sacrificed
to want of orderly discipline in loading the few that were provided.
“The lifeboats would have easily cared for 1,176, and only contained
704, 12 of whom were taken into the boats from the water, while the
weather conditions were favorable and the sea perfectly calm. And yet
it is said by some well-meaning persons that the best of discipline
prevailed. If this is discipline, what would have been disorder?
“Among the passengers were many strong men who had been accustomed to
command, whose lives had marked every avenue of endeavor, and whose
business experience and military training especially fitted them for
such an emergency.
MEN RUDELY SILENCED.
“These men were rudely silenced and forbidden to speak, as was the
president of the company, by junior officers, a few of whom, I regret
to say, availed themselves of the first opportunity to leave the ship.
Some of the men to whom had been intrusted the care of passengers never
reported to their official stations, and quickly deserted the ship
with a recklessness and indifference to the responsibilities of their
positions as culpable and amazing as it is impossible to believe.
“And some of these men say that they ‘laid by’ in their partially
filled lifeboats and listened to the cries of distress ‘until the noise
quieted down’ and surveyed from a safe distance the unselfish men and
women and faithful fellow-officers and seamen, whose heroism lightens
up this tragedy and recalls the noblest traditions of the sea.
“Some things are dearer than life itself, and the refusal of Phillips
and Bride, wireless operators, to desert their posts of duty, even
after the water had mounted to the upper deck, because the captain
had not given them permission to leave, is an example of faithfulness
worthy of the highest praise, while the final exit of the Phillips boy
from the ship and from the world was not so swift as to prevent him
from pausing long enough to pass a cup of water to a fainting woman,
who fell from her husband’s arm into the operator’s chair, as he was
tardily fleeing from his wireless apparatus, where he had ticked off
the last message from his ship and from his brain.
“It is no excuse that the apparatus on the Carpathia was antiquated; it
easily caught the signal of distress and spoke with other ships nearly
200 miles away, both before and after the accident, while the operator
says it was good for 250 miles. The steamship Californian was within
easy reach of this ship for nearly four hours after all the facts were
known to Operator Cottam.
“The captain of the Carpathia says he gave explicit directions that all
official messages should be immediately sent through other ships, and
messages of passengers should be given preference. According to Binns,
the inspector, the apparatus on the Californian was practically new
and easily tuned to carry every detail of that calamity to the coast
stations at Cape Sable and Cape Race, and should have done so.”
CRITICISM FOR CAPTAIN LORD.
Regarding the part played after the disaster by Captain Lord, of the
steamship Californian, Senator Smith declares that, while it is not
a pleasant duty to criticize the conduct of others, the plain truth
should be told. Referring to the testimony of repeated signals given
from the Californian with Morse lights, he declared:
“Most of the witnesses of the ill-fated vessel before the committee saw
plainly the light, which Captain Lord says was displayed for nearly two
hours after the accident, while the captain and some of the officers of
the Titanic directed the lifeboats to pull for that light and return
with the empty boats to the side of the ship.
“Why did the Californian display its Morse signal lamp from the moment
of the collision continuously for nearly two hours if they saw nothing?
And the signals which were visible to Mr. Gill at 12.30 o’clock and
afterward, and which were also seen by the captain and officer of the
watch, should have excited more solicitude than was displayed by the
officers of that vessel, and the failure of Captain Lord to arouse the
wireless operator on his ship, who could have easily ascertained the
name of the vessel in distress, and reached her in time to avert loss
of life, places a tremendous responsibility upon this officer from
which it will be very difficult for him to escape.
“Had he been as vigilant in the movement of his vessel as he was active
in displaying his own signal lamp, there is a very strong probability
that every human life that was sacrificed through this disaster
could have been saved. The dictates of humanity should have prompted
vigilance under such conditions, and the law of Great Britain, giving
effect to Article II of the Brussels convention in regard to assistance
and salvage at sea, is as follows:
“‘The master or person in charge of a vessel shall, so far as he can
do so without serious danger to his own vessel, her crew and her
passengers (if any), render assistance to every person, even if such
person be a subject of a foreign state at war with his Majesty, who
is found at sea in danger of being lost, and if he fails to do so, he
shall be guilty of a misdemeanor.’
PRAISE FOR CAPTAIN OF CARPATHIA.
“The Senate passed on the 18th day of April last a bill giving effect
to the same treaty, which clearly indicates the disposition of the
Government of England, and our own as well, in matters of this
character. Contrast, if you will, the conduct of the captain of the
Carpathia in this emergency and imagine what must be the consolation of
that thoughtful and sympathetic mariner, who rescued the shipwrecked
and left the people of the world his debtor as his ship sailed for
distant seas a few days ago.
“By his utter self-effacement and his own indifference to peril, by
his promptness and his knightly sympathy, he rendered a great service
to humanity. He should be made to realize the debt of gratitude this
nation owes to him, while the book of good deeds, which had so often
been familiar with his unaffected valor, should henceforth carry the
name of Captain Rostrom to the remotest period of time.
“With most touching detail he promptly ordered the ship’s officers to
their stations, distributed the doctors into positions of the greatest
usefulness, prepared comforts for man and mother and babe; with
foresight and tenderness he lifted them from their watery imprisonment
and, when the rescue had been completed, summoned all of the rescued
together and ordered the ship’s bell tolled for the lost, and asked
that prayers of thankfulness be offered by those who had been spared.
It falls to the lot of few men to perform a service so unselfish, and
the American Congress can honor itself no more by any single act than
by writing into its laws the gratitude we feel toward this modest and
kindly man.
“The lessons of this hour are, indeed, fruitless and its precepts
ill-conceived if rules of action do not follow hard upon the day of
reckoning. Obsolete and antiquated shipping laws should no longer
encumber the parliamentary records of any government, and over-ripe
administrative boards should be pruned of dead branches and less
sterile precepts taught and applied.”
LIST OF TITANIC PASSENGERS MISSING AND RESCUED
The following passengers on the Titanic were lost:
FIRST CABIN
A
Anderson, Harry.
Allison, H. J.
Allison, Mrs. and maid.
Allison, Miss.
Andrews, Thomas.
Artagavoytia, Mr. Ramon.
Astor, Col. J. J., and servant.
Anderson, Walker.
B
Beattie, T.
Brandies, E.
Mrs. William Bucknell’s maid.
Baumann, J.
Baxter, Mr. and Mrs. Quigg.
Bjornstrom, H.
Birnbaum, Jacob.
Blackwell, S. W.
Borebank, J. J.
Bowden, Miss.
Brady, John B.
Brewe, Arthur J.
Butt, Major A.
C
Clark, Walter M.
Clifford, George Q.
Colley, E. P.
Cardeza, T. D. M., servant of.
Cardeza, Mrs. J. W., maid of.
Carlson, Frank.
Case, Howard B.
Cavendish, W. Tyrrell.
Corran, F. M.
Corran, J. P.
Chaffee, H. I.
Chisholm, Robert.
Compton, A. T.
Crafton, John B.
Crosby, Edward G.
Cumings, John Bradley.
D.
Davidson, Thornton.
Dulles, William C.
Douglas, W. D.
Nurse of Douglas, Master, R.
E.
Eustis, Miss E. M. (may be reported saved as Miss Ellis).
Evans, Miss E.
F.
Fortune, Mark.
Foreman, B. L.
Fortune, Clarels.
Franklin, T. P.
Futrelle, J.
G.
Gee, Arthur.
Goldenberg, E. L.
Goldschmidt, G. B.
Greenfield, G. B.
Giglio, Victor.
Guggenheim, Benjamin.
H.
Servant of Harper, Henry S.
Hays, Charles M.
Maid of Hays, Mrs. Charles M.
Head, Christopher.
Hilliard, H. H.
Hopkins, W. F.
Hogenheim, Mrs. A.
Harris, Henry B.
Harp, Mr. and Mrs. Charles M.
Harp, Miss Margaret, and maid.
Hoyt. W. F.
Holverson, A. M.
I.
Isham, Miss A. E.
Servant of J. Bruce Ismay.
J.
Julian, H. F.
Jones, C. C.
K.
Kent, Edward A.
Kenyon, Mr. and Mrs. F. R.,
(may be reported saved as Kenchen and Kennyman).
Kimball, Mr. and Mrs. E. N.,
(may be reported saved as Mr. and Mrs. E. Kimberley).
Klober, Herman.
L.
Lambert, Williams.
Lawrence, Arthur.
Long, Milton.
Longley, Miss G. F.
Lewy, E. G.
Lindsholm, J., (may be reported saved as Mrs. Sigrid Lindstrom).
Loring, J. H.
Lingrey, Edward.
M.
Maguire, J. E.
McCaffry, T.
McCaffry, T., Jr.
McCarthy, T., Jr.
Marvin, D. W.
Middleton, J. C.
Millett, Frank D.
Minahan, Dr. and Mrs.
Marechal, Pierre.
Meyer, Edgar J.
Molson, H. M.
Moore, C., servant.
N.
Natsch, Charles.
Newall, Miss T.
Nicholson, A. S.
O.
Ovies, S.
Ostby, E. C.
Ornout, Alfred T.
P.
Parr, M. H. W.
Pears, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas.
Penasco, Mr. Victor.
Partner, M. A.
Payne, V.
Pond, Florence, and maid.
Porter, Walter.
R.
Reuchlin, J.
Maid of Robert, Mrs. E.
Roebling, Washington A., 2d.
Rood, Hugh R.
Roes, J. Hugo.
Maid of Countess Rothes.
Rothschild, M.
Rowe, Arthur.
Ryerson, A.
S.
Shutes, Miss E. W., (probably reported saved as Miss Shutter).
Maid of Mrs. George Stone.
Straus, Mr. and Mrs. Isidor.
Silvey, William B.
Maid of Mrs. D. C. Spedden.
Spedden, Master D., and nurse.
Spencer, W. A.
Stead, W. T.
Stehli, Mr. and Mrs. Max Frolisher.
Sutton, Frederick.
Smart, John M.
Smith, Clinch.
Smith, R. W.
Stewart, A. A., (may be reported saved as Frederick Stewart).
Smith, L. P.
T.
Taussig, Mrs. Emil.
Maid of Mrs. Thayer.
Thayer, John B.
Thorne, C.
V.
Vanderhoof, Wyckoff.
W.
Walker, W. A.
Warren, F. M.
White, Percival A.
White, Richard F.
Widener, G. D. and servant.
Widener, Harry.
Wood, Mr. and Mrs. Frank P.
Weir, J.
Wick, George D.
Williams, Duane.
Wright, George.
SECOND CABIN
A.
Abelson, Samson.
Andrew, Frank.
Ashby, John.
Aldsworth. C.
Andrew, Edgar.
B.
Beacken, James H.
Brown, Mrs.
Banfield, Fred.
Beight, Nail.
Braily, Bandsman.
Breicoux, Bandsman.
Bailey, Percy.
Bainbridge, C. R.
Byles, the Rev. Thomas
Beauchamp, H. J.
Beesley, Lawrence.
Berg, Miss E.
Bentham, I.
Bateman, Robert J.
Butler, Reginald.
Botsford, Hull.
Bowener, Solomon.
Berriman, William.
C.
Clarke, Charles.
Clark, Bandsman.
Corey, Mrs.
Carter, the Rev. Ernest
Carter, Mrs.
Coleridge, Reginald.
Chapman, Charles.
Cunningham, Alfred
Campbell, William.
Collyer, Harvey.
Corbett, Mrs. Irene.
Chapman, John R.
Chapman, Mrs. E.
Colander, Erie.
Cotterill, Harry.
Charles, William, (probably reported saved as William, Charles).
D.
Deacon, Percy.
Davis, Charles, (may be reported saved as John Davies).
Debben, William.
De Brits, Jose.
Danborny, H.
Drew, James.
Drew, Master M.
David, Master J. W.
Duran, Miss A.
Dounton, W. J.
Del Vario, S.
Del Vario, Mrs.
E.
Enander, Ingar.
Eitmiller, G. F.
F.
Frost, A.
Fynnery, Md.
Faunthrope, M.
Fillbroock, C.
Funk, Annie.
Fahlsthom, A.
Fox, Stanley N.
G.
Greenberg, S.
Giles, Ralph.
Gaskell, Alfred.
Gillespie, William.
Gilbert, William.
Gall, Harry.
Gall, S.
Gill, John.
Giles, Edgar.
Giles, Fred.
Gale, Harry.
Gale, Phadruch.
Garvey, Lawrence.
H.
Hickman, Leonard.
Hickman, Lewis.
Hume, Bandsman.
Hickman, Stanley.
Hood, Ambrose.
Hodges, Henry P.
Hart, Benjamin.
Harris, Walter.
Harper, John.
Harper, Nina.
Harbeck, W. H.
Hoffman, Mr.
Hoffman, Child.
Hoffman, Child.
Herman, Mrs. S.
Howard, B.
Howard, Mrs. E. T.
Hale, Reginald.
Hamatainen, Anna, and infant son,
(probably reported saved as Anna Hamilton).
Hilunen, M.
Hunt, George.
J.
Jacobson, Mr.
Jacobson, Mrs.
Jacobson, Sydney.
Jeffery, Clifford.
Jeffery, Ernest.
Jenkin, Stephen.
Jarvis, John D.
K.
Keane, Daniel.
Kirkland, Rev. C.
Karnes, Mrs. F. G.
Kaynaldo, Miss.
Krillner, J. H.
Krins, bandsman.
Knight, R.
Karines, Mrs.
Kantar, Selna.
Kantar, Mrs., (probably reported saved as Miriam Kanton).
L.
Lengam, John.
Levy, P. J.
Lahtigan, William.
Lauch, Charles.
Leyson, R. W. N.
Laroche, Joseph.
Lamb, J. J.
M.
McKane, Peter.
Milling, Jacob.
Mantville, Joseph.
Malachard, Noll, (may be reported saved as Mme. Melicard).
Moraweck, Dr.
Mangiovacci, E.
McCrea, Arthur G.
McCrie, James M.
McKane, Peter D.
Mudd, Thomas.
Mack, Mary.
Marshall, Henry.
Mayberg, Frank H.
Meyer, August.
Myles, Thomas.
Mitchell, Henry.
Matthews, W. J.
N.
Nessen, Israel.
Nichols, Joseph C.
Norman, Robert D.
Nasser, Nicholas, (may be reported saved as Mrs. Nasser).
O.
Otteo, Richard.
P.
Phillips, Robert.
Ponesell, Martin, (may be reported saved as M. F. Pososons).
Pain, Dr. Alfred.
Parkes, Frank.
Pengelly, F.
Pernot, Rene.
Peruschitz, the Rev.
Parker, Clifford.
Pulbaum, Frank.
R.
Rogers, Getina, (probably reported saved as Miss Eliza Rogers).
Renouf, Peter E.
Rogers, Harry.
Reeves, David.
S.
Slemen, R. J.
Sjoberg, Hayden.
Slatter, Miss H. M.
Stanton, Ward.
Sinkkonen, Anna, (probably reported saved as Anna Sinkkanea).
Sword, Hans K.
Stokes, Philip J.
Sharp, Percival.
Sedgwick, Mr.
Smith, Augustus.
Sweet, George.
Sjostedt, Ernst.
T.
Toomey, Ellen, (may be reported saved as Ellen Formery).
Taylor, Bandsman.
Turpin, William J.
Turpin, Mrs. Dorothy.
Turner, John H.
Trouneansky, M.
Tervan, Mrs. A.
Trant, Mrs. Jesse, (probably reported saved as Mrs. Jesse Traut).
V.
Veale, James.
W.
Wilhelm, Charles, (probably reported saved as Charles Williams).
Watson, E.
Woodward, Benjamin.
Woodward, Bandsman.
Ware, William C.
Weiss, Leopold.
Wheadon, Edward.
Ware, John J.
Ware, Mrs., (may be reported saved as Miss Florence Mare).
West, E. Arthur.
Wheeler, Edwin.
Wenman, Samuel.
THIRD CLASS--S
A.
Allum, Owen.
Alexander, William.
Adams, J.
Alfred, Evan.
Allen, William.
Akar, Nourealain.
Assad, Said.
Alice, Agnes.
Aks, Tilly.
Attala, Malakka.
Ayont, Bancura.
Ahmed, Ali.
Alhomaki, Ilmari.
Ali, Willham.
Anders, Gustafson.
Assam, Ali.
Asin, Adola.
Anderson, Albert.
Anderson, Ida.
Anderson, Thor.
Aronson, Ernest.
Ahlin, Johanna.
Anderson, Anders, and family.
Anderson, Carl.
Anderson, Samuel.
Andressen, Paul.
Augustan, Albert.
Abelsett, Glai.
Adelseth, Karen.
Adolf, Humblin.
Anderson, Erna.
Angheloff, Minko.
Arnold, Josef.
Arnold, Josephine.
Asplund, Johan.
B.
Braun, Lewis.
Braun, Owen.
Bowen, David.
Beavan, W.
Bachini, Zabour.
Belmentoy, Hassef.
Badt, Mohamet.
Betros, Yazbeck.
Barry, ----.
Bucklely, Katherine.
Burke, Jeremiah.
Barton, David.
Brocklebank, William.
Bostandyeff, Cuentche.
Bensons, John.
Billiard, A. and two children.
Bontos, Hanna.
Baccos, Boulos.
Bexrous, Tannous.
Burke, John.
Burke, Katherine.
Burke, Mary.
Burns, Mary.
Berglind, Ivar.
Balkic, Cerin.
Brobek, Carl.
Backstrom, Karl.
Berglund, Hans.
Bjorkland, Ernest.
C.
Can, Ernest.
Crease, Earnest.
Cohett, Gurshon.
Coutts, Winnie, and two children.
Cribb, John.
Cribb, Alice C.
Catavelas, Vassilios.
Caram, Catherine.
Cannavan, P.
Carr, Jenny.
Chartens, David.
Conlin, Thomas.
Celloti, Francesco.
Christman, Emil.
Caxon, Daniel.
Corn, Harry.
Carver, A.
Cook, Jacob.
Chip, Chang.
Chanini, Georges.
Chronopolous, Demetris.
Connaghton, M.
Connors, P.
Carls, Anderson.
Carlsson, August.
Coelhe, Domingo.
Carlson, Carl.
Coleff, Sotie.
Coleff, Peye.
Cor., Ivan, and family.
Calic, Manda.
Calic, Peter.
Cheskosics, Luka.
Cacic, Gego.
Cacic, Luka.
Cacis, Taria.
Carlson, Julius.
Crescovic, Maria.
D.
Dugemin, Joseph.
Dean, Bertram.
Dorkings, Edward.
Dennis, Samuel.
Dennis, William.
Drazenovic, Josef.
Daher, Shedid.
Daly, Eugene.
Dwar, Frank.
Davies, John.
Dowdell, E.
Davison, Thomas.
Davison, Mary.
Dwyer, Tillie.
Dakie, Branko.
Danoff, Yoto.
Dantchoff, Christo.
Denkoff, Mitto.
Dintcheff, Valtcho.
Dedalic, Regzo.
Dahlberg, Gerda.
Demossemacker, Emma.
Demossemacher, Guillaume.
Dimic, Jovan.
Dahl, Mauritz.
Dahl, Charles.
Drapkin, Jennie.
Donahue, Bert.
Doyle, Ellen.
Dalbom, Ernst, and family.
Dyker, Adolph.
Dyker, Elizabeth.
E.
Everett, Thomas.
Empuel, Ethel.
Elsbury, James.
Elias, Joseph.
Elias, Hanna.
Elias, Foofa.
Emmett, Thomas.
Ecimosic, Joso.
Edwardson, Gustave.
Eklund, Hans.
Ekstrom, Johan.
F.
Ford, Arthur.
Ford, Margaret, and family.
Franklin, Charles.
Foo, Cheong.
Farrell, James.
Flynn, James.
Flynn, John.
Foley, Joseph.
Foley, William.
Finote, Lingi.
Fischer, Eberhard.
G.
Goodwin, F., and family.
Goldsmith, Frank, and family.
Guest, Frank.
Green, George.
Garfirth, John.
Gillinski, Leslie.
Gheorgeff, Stano.
Ghemat, Emar.
Gerios, Youssef.
Gerios, Assaf.
Ghalil, Saal.
Gallagher, Martin.
Ganavan, Mary.
Glinagh, Katie.
Glynn, Mary.
Gronnestad, Daniel.
Gustafsch, Gideon.
Goldsmith, Nathan.
Goncalves, Mancel..
Gustafson, Johan.
Graf, Elin.
Gustafson, Alfred.
H.
Hyman, Abraham.
Harknett, Alice.
Hane, Youssef, and 2 children.
Haggendon, Kate.
Haggerty, Nora.
Hart, Henry.
Howard, May.
Harmer, Abraham.
Hachini, Najib.
Helene, Eugene.
Healy, Nora.
Henery, Della.
Hemming, Nora.
Hansen, Claus.
Hansen, Fanny.
Heininan, Wendis.
Hervonen, Helga and child.
Haas, Alaisa.
Hakkurainen, Elin.
Hakkurainen, Pekka.
Hankomen, Eluna.
Hansen, Henry.
Hendekovic, Ignaz.
Hickkinen, Laina.
Holm, John.
Hadman, Oscar.
Haglund, Conrad.
Haglund, Invald.
Henriksson, Jenny.
Hillstrom, Hilda.
Holten, Johan.
I.
Ing, Hen.
Iemenen, Manta.
Ilmakangas, Pista.
Ilmakangas, Ida.
Ilieff, Kriste.
Ilieff, Ylio.
Ivanoff, Kanie.
J.
Johnson, A., and family.
Jamila, Nicola, and child.
Jenymin, Annie.
Johnstone, W.
Joseph, Mary.
Jeannasr, Hanna.
Johannessen, Berdt.
Johannessen, Elias.
Johansen, Nils.
Johanson, Oscar.
Johansson, Gustav.
Jonkoff, Lazar.
Johnson, Elis, and family.
Johnson, Jakob.
Johnsson, Nils.
Jansen, Carl.
Jardin, Jose.
Jansen, Hans.
Johansson, Eric.
Jussila, Eric.
Jutel, Henry.
Johnsson, Carl.
Jusila, Kathina.
Juslia, Maria.
K.
Keefe, Arthur.
Kassen, Houssein.
Karum, Franz, and child.
Kelly, Anna.
Kelly, James.
Kennedy, John.
Kerane, Andy.
Kelley, James.
Keeni, Fahim.
Khalil, Lahia.
Kiernan, Philip.
Kiernan, John.
Kilgannon, Theodore.
Kakic, Tido.
Karajis, Milan.
Karkson, Einar.
Kalvig, Johannes.
King, Vincenz, and family.
Kallio, Nikolai.
Karlson, Nils.
Klasson, Klara, and two children.
L.
Lovell, John.
Lob, William.
Lobb, Cordelia.
Lester, James.
Lithman, Simon.
Leonard, I.
Lemberopolous, P.
Lakarian, Orsen.
Lane, Patrick.
Lennon, Dennis.
Lam, Ah.
Lam., Len.
Lang, Fang.
Ling, Lee.
Lockyer, Edward.
Latife, Maria.
Lennon, Mary.
Linehan, Michael.
Leinenen, Antti.
Lindell, Edward.
Lindell, Elin.
Lindqvist, Vine.
Larson, Viktor.
Lefebre, Frances and family.
Lindblom, August.
Lulic, Nicola.
Lundal, Hans.
Lundstrom, Jan.
Lyntakoff, Stanka.
Landegren, Aurora.
Laitinen, Sofia.
Larsson, Bengt.
Lasson, Edward.
Lindahl, Anna.
Lundin, Olga.
Linehan, Michael.
M.
Moore, Leonard.
Mackay, George.
Meek, Annie.
Mikalsen, Sander.
Miles, Frank.
Miles, Frederick.
Morley, William.
McNamee, Neal.
McNamee, Ellen.
Meanwell, Marian.
Meo, Alfonso.
Maisner, Simon.
Murdlin, Joseph.
Moor, Belle.
Moor, Meier.
Maria, Joseph.
Mantour, Mousea.
Moncarek, Omine, and two children.
McElroy, Michael.
McGowan, Katherine.
McMahon, --.
McMahon, Martin.
Madigan, Maggie.
Manion, Margaret.
Mechan, John.
Mocklare, Ellis.
Moran, James.
Mulvihill, Bertha.
Murphy, Kate.
Mikahen, John.
Melkebuk, Philomen.
Merms, Leon.
Midtsjo, Carl.
Myhrman, Oliver.
Myster, Anna.
Makinen, Kale.
Mustafa, Nasr.
Mike, Anna.
Mustmans, Fatina.
Martin, Johan.
Malinoff, Nicola.
McCoy, Bridget.
Markoff, Martin.
Marinko, Dimitri.
Mineff, Ivan.
Minkoff, Iazar.
Mirko, Dika.
Mitkoff, Nitto.
Moen, Sigurd.
N.
Nancarror, William.
Nomagh, Robert.
Nakle, Trotik.
Nosworthy, Richard.
Naughton, Hannah.
Norel, Manseur.
Niels, ----.
Nillson, Herta.
Nyoven, Johan.
Naidenoff, Penke.
Nankoff, Minko.
Nedelic, Petroff.
Nenkoff, Christe.
Nilson, August.
Nirva, Isak.
Nandewalle, Nestor.
O.
O’Brien, Dennis.
O’Brien, Hanna.
O’Brien, Thomas.
O’Donnell, Patrick
Odele, Catherine.
O’Connoy, Patrick.
O’Neill, Bridget.
Olsen, Carl.
Olsen, Ole.
Olson, Elin.
Olson, John.
Ortin, Amin.
Odahl, Martin.
Olman, Velin.
Olsen, Henry.
Olman, Mara.
Olsen, Elide.
Orescovic, Teko.
P.
Pedruzzi, Joseph.
Perkin, John.
Pearce, Ernest.
Peacock, Treesteall, and two children.
Potchett, George.
Peterson, Marius.
Peters, Katie.
Paulsson, Alma, and family.
Panula, Mari, and family.
Pekonami, E.
Peltomaki, Miheldi.
Pacruic, Mate.
Pacruic, Tamo.
Pastche, Petroff.
Pletcharsky, Vasil.
Palovic, Vtefo.
Petranec, Matilda.
Person, Ernest.
Pasic, Jacob.
Planks, Jules.
Peterson, Ellen.
Peterson, Olaf.
Peterson, Wohn.
R.
Rouse, Richard.
Rush, Alfred.
Rogers, William.
Reynolds, Harold.
Riordan, Hannah.
Ryan, Edward.
Rainch, Razi.
Roufoul, Aposetun.
Read, James.
Robins, Alexander.
Robins, Charity.
Risian, Samuel.
Risian, Emma.
Runnestvet, Kristian.
Randeff, Alexandre.
Rintamaki, Matti.
Rosblon, Helen, and family.
Ridegain, Charles.
S.
Sadowitz, Harry.
Saundercock, W.
Shellark, Frederick.
Sage, John, and family.
Sawyer, Frederick.
Spinner, Henry.
Shorney, Charles.
Sarkis, Lahound.
Sultani, Meme.
Stankovic, Javan.
Salini, Antoni.
Seman, Betros.
Sadlier, Matt.
Scanlon, James.
Shaughnessay, P.
Simmons, John.
Serota, Maurice.
Sommerton, F.
Slocovski, Selmen.
Sutchall, Henry.
Sather, Simon.
Storey, T.
Specter, Woolf.
Sirayman, Peter.
Samaan, Jouseef.
Saiide, Barbara.
Saad, Divo.
Sarkis, Madiresian.
Shine, Ellen.
Sullivan, Bridget.
Salander, Carl.
Sepelelanaker, Alfons.
Skog, William and family.
Solvang, Lena.
Strangberg, Ida.
Strilik, Ivan.
Salonen, Ferner.
Sivic, Husen.
Svenson, Ola.
Svenst, ----.
Sandman, Mohan.
Saljilsvick, Anna.
Schelp, Peter.
Sihvola, Antti.
Slabenoff, Peter.
Staneff, Ivan.
Stoytcho, Mikoff.
Stoytehoff, Illa.
Sydcoff, Todor.
Sandstrom, Agnes and two children.
Sheerlinch, Joan.
Smiljanik, Mile.
Strom, Elma, and child.
Svensson, John.
Swensson, Edwin.
T.
Tobin, Roger.
Thomson, Alex.
Theobald, Thomas.
Tomlin, Ernest.
Thorneycroft, P.
Thorneycroft, F.
Torber, Ernest.
Trembisky, Berk.
Tiley, Edward.
Tamini, Hilion.
Tannans, Daper.
Thomas, John.
Thomas, Charles.
Thomas, Tannous.
Tumin, Thomas, and infant.
Tikkanen, Juho.
Tonglin, Gunner.
Turoin, Stefan.
Turgo, Anna.
Tedoreff, Ialie.
U.
Usher, Haulmer.
Uzelas, Jose.
V.
Vander and family.
Vereuysse, Victor.
Vjoblon, Anna.
Vaclens, Adulle.
Vandersteen, Leo.
Vanimps, Jacob, and family.
Vatdevehde, Josep.
W.
Williams, Harry.
Williams, Leslie.
Ware, Frederick.
Warren, Charles.
Waika, Said.
Wazli, Jousef.
Wiseman, Philip.
Werber, James.
Windelor, Einar.
Weller, Edward.
Wennerstrom, August.
Wendal, Olaf.
Wistrom, Hans.
Wiklund, Jacob.
Wiklund, Carl.
Wenzel, Zinhart.
Wirz, Albert.
Wittewrongel, Camille.
Y.
Youssef, Brahim.
Yalsevac, Ivan.
Z.
Zakarian, Mapri.
Zievens, Rene.
Zimmerman, Leo.
OFFICIAL LIST OF PASSENGERS RESCUED.
The following is the official list of passengers rescued by the
Carpathia and taken to New York:
FIRST CABIN
A.
Anderson, Harry.
Appleton, Mrs. E. W.
Alison, Master, and nurse.
Allison, maid of.
Andrews, Miss K. T., (Miss Cornelia I.?)
Allen, Miss E. W.
Astor, Mrs. John Jacob, and maid.
Aubert, Mrs. N., and maid.
B.
Behr, Karl.
Bucknell, Mrs. William and maid.
Barkworth, Mr. A. H.
Bowerman, Miss E.
Brown, Mrs. J. J.
Burns, Miss C. M.
Bishop, Mr. and Mrs. D., (Mr. and Mrs. Dickinson Bisley).
Blank, Mr. H.
Baxter, Mrs. Jas.
Brayton, Geo. A.
Bonnell, Miss Caroline.
Bonnell, Miss Eliz.
Brown, Mrs. J. Murray.
Bowen, Miss Grace I.
Beckwith, Mr. and Mrs. R. L.
C.
Cardeza, Mrs. J. W., and maid.
Cassebere, Mrs. H. A., Jr.
Clarke, Mrs. W. M.
Chibnail, Mrs. H.
Crosby, Mrs. E. G.
Crosby, Miss H.
Cardell, Mrs. Churchill.
Calderhead, E. P.
Cavendish, Mrs. Turrell, and maid.
Chaffee, Mrs. H. L.
Cardeza, Mr. Thos.
Cummings, Mrs. J. B.
Chevre, Mr. Paul.
Cherry, Miss Gladys.
Chambers, Mr. and Mrs. N. C.
Carter, Mr. and Mrs. W. F.
Carter, Miss Lucille P.
Carter, Master Wm. T.
Cornell, Mrs. Robt. C.
D.
Douglass, Mrs. Fred C.
De Villiers, Mme.
Daly, Mr. P. D.
Daniel, Mr. Robt. W.
Davidson, Mrs. Thornton.
Douglass, Mrs. Walter, and maid.
Dodge, Mr. Washington.
Dodge, Mrs. Washington, and son.
Dick, Mr. and Mrs. A. A.
Drachstedt, Mr. A.
Duff-Gordon, Sir Cosmo.
Duff-Gordon, Lady.
E.
Endress, Miss Caroline (Mrs.?)
Earnshaw, Mrs. Boulton.
Eustis, Miss Eliz. M.
F.
Flegenheim, Miss Antoinette.
Francatelli, Miss M.
Flynn, Mr. J. I.
Fortune, Miss Alice.
Fortune, Miss Ethel.
Fortune, Mrs. Mark.
Fortune, Miss Mabel.
Fraunethal, Mr. and Mrs. Hy. W.
Frauenthal, Mr. and Mrs. I. G.
Frolicher, Mr. and Max.
Frolicher, Miss Margaret.
Futrelle, Mrs. Jacques.
G.
Gracie, Col. Archibald.
Graham, Mrs. Wm.
Graham, Miss.
Gibson, Miss Dorothy.
Goldenberg, Mr. and Mrs. Samuel.
Greenfield, Mrs. Lee D.
Greenfield, Mr. W. B.
Gibson, Mrs. Leonard.
H.
Haven, Mr. H.
Hippach, Mrs. Ida S.
Hippach, Miss Jean.
Harris, Mrs. H. B.
Holverson, Mrs. Alex.
Hogebloom, Mrs. J. C.
Hawksford, Mr. W. L.
Harper, Mrs. H. S.
Harper, Mrs. Henry S., and man-servant.
Hoyt, Mr. and Mrs. Fred M.
Harder, Mr. and Mrs. George.
Hays, Mrs. Chas. M.
Hays, Miss Margaret B.
I.
Ismay, Mr. J. Bruce.
K.
Kimball, Mr. and Mrs. E. M.
Kenyon, Mrs. F. A.
Krenchen, Miss Emile. (F. R. ?)
L.
Longley, Miss G. F.
Leader, Mrs. F. A.
Lines, Mrs. Ernest.
Lines, Miss Mary C.
Lindstrom, Mrs. Sigfrid.
M.
Meyer, Mrs. E. G.
Madill, Miss G. A.
Maloney, Mrs. R.
(Marvin?), Mrs. D. W.
Marechell, Pierre, Mr.
Minahan, Mrs. Wm. E.
Minahan, Miss Daisy.
Mock, Mr. Philip E.
McGough, Mr. Jas.
N.
Newell, Miss Marjorie (Miss Alice?).
Newell, Miss Madeline.
Newson, Miss Helen M.
O.
Ostby, Miss Helen.
Ormond, Mr. F.
P.
Penasco, Mrs. Joseph, (Victor?).
Potter, Mrs. Thos. J.
Peuchen, Major Arthur.
Pears, Mrs. Thomas.
Perrcault, Mrs. A.
R.
Rothschild, Mrs. Marton.
Rosenbaum, Miss Edith.
Rheims, Mr. George.
Rothes, Countess of.
Roberts, Mrs. E. S.
Rolmane, Mr. C.
Ryerson, Mr. J. B.
Ryerson, S. R., Miss.
Ryerson, Miss Emily.
Ryerson, Mrs. Arthur.
S.
Stone, Mrs. Geo. M. and maid.
Seward, Mr. Fred. K.
Shutes, Miss E.
Sloper, Mr. Wm. T.
Swift, Mrs. F. Joel.
Schaber, Mrs. Paul.
Spedden, Robert Douglass.
Snyder, Mr. and Mrs. John.
Silverhorn, Mr. R. Spencer.
Saalfeld, Mr. Adolf.
Smith, Mrs. Lucien P.,
Stephenson, Mrs. W. B.
Solomon, Mr. Abraham.
Silvey, Mrs. Wm. B.
Stengle, Mr. and Mrs., C. E. H.
Spencer, Mrs. W. A. and maid.
Slayter, Miss Hilda.
Spedden, Mr. and Mrs. F. O.
Straus’s, maid of.
T.
Thayer, Mrs. J. B., and maid.
Thayer, J. B., Jr.
Taussig, Miss Ruth.
Taussig, Mrs. E.
Taylor, E. Z.
Taylor, Mrs. E.
Tucker, Gilbert M., Jr.
Thorne, Mrs. Gertrude.
W.
Woolner, Hy.
Williams, Rich. M., Jr.
Warren, Mrs. F. M.
Wilson, Miss Helen A.
Willard, Miss C.
Wick, Mrs. George.
Wick, Miss Mary.
Widener, Mrs. George D., and maid.
White, Mrs. J. Stewart, and maid.
Widener, Valet G.
Y.
Young, Miss Marie G.
SECOND CABIN
Angle, Mrs.
Abelson, Mrs. Hanna.
Abbott, Mrs. Rosa.
Argenia, Mrs. Genovia, and two children.
Balls, Mrs. Ada E.
Bass, Miss Kate.
Becker, Mrs. A. O., and three children.
Beane, Mr. Edward.
Beane, Mrs.
Brown, Mildred.
Brown, Mrs. Elizabeth.
Bentham, Lillian W.
Bystron, Karolina.
Bryhl, Dagmar.
Beesley, Mr. L.
Clark, Mrs. Ada.
Cameron, Miss Clara.
Caldwell, Albert F.
Caldwell, Mrs. Sylvan.
Caldwell, Infant Alden.
Christy, Alice..
Christy, Julia,.
Collet, Stuart (Mr.).
Collyer, Mrs. Charlotte.
Collyer, Miss Marjorie.
Doling, Mrs. Ada.
Doling, Miss Elsie.
Drew, Mrs. Lulu and child.
Davis, Mrs. Agnes.
Davis, Miss Mary.
Davis, John M.
Duran, Florentine.
Duran, Miss A.
Faunthorpe, Mrs. Lizz.
Garside, Ethel.
Hart, Mrs. (Esther).
Hart, Child, (Eva)
Harris, George.
Hewlett, Mrs. Mary.
Harper, Nana.
Hold, Mrs. A.
Hosno, Mr. Masabumi.
Hocking, Mrs., and
daughter.
Herman, Mrs. Jane.
Herman, Miss Kate,.
Herman, Miss Alice.
Hamlia, Mrs. H. and child.
Hoffman, Lolo.
Hoffman, Lues.
Hett, Bertha,.
Jacobson, Mrs. Amy.
Jerman, Mrs. M.
Keane, Miss Nora A.
Kelly, Mrs. F.
Kemton, Mirriam.
Leitch, Jessie,.
Laroche, Mrs.
Laroche, Miss Simmome.
Laroche, Miss Louise.
Lehman, Bertha.
Lauch, Mrs. A.
Lamore, Amelia.
Mellinger, Eliz.
Mellinger, Child.
Marshall, Mrs. Kate.
Mallet, Mrs.
Mallett, Master R. E.
Mellers, W. J.
Mussa or Nesser, Mrs.
Nye, Elizabeth.
Oxenham, Thomas.
Phillips, Alice.
Pallas, Mrs. Emilio. (?)
Padro, Mr. Julian.
Pinsky, Rosa.
Portaluppi, Emilio.
Parish, Mrs. David.
Quick, Mrs. Jane.
Quick, Miss Vera.
Quick, Miss Phyllis.
Rinaldo, Mrs. Emcarmacion.
Ridsdale, Lucy.
Renouf, Mrs. Lily.
Rugg, Miss Emily.
Richards, Emily, and two children.
Rogers, Miss Selina.
Sincock, Miss Maude.
Smith, Miss Marion.
Silven, Lylle.
Simpson, Alma.
Toney, Miss.
Trent, Mrs. Jessie.
Trout, Miss E.
Williams, C. Chas.
Weitz, Mrs. (Mathilda).
Webber, Miss Susie.
Wright, Miss Marion.
Watt, Mrs. Bessie.
Watt, Miss Bertha.
West, Mrs.
West, Miss Constance.
West, Miss Barbara.
Wells, Addie.
Wells, Miss.
Wells, Master.
Ware, Mrs. Florence.
Whilems, Chas.
Water, Nellie.
Woolcroft, Nellie.
THIRD CLASS STEERAGE
Anderson, Emma.
Aks, Leah.
Aks, Fily.
Abrahamson, August.
Asplund, John.
Abelseth, Olaus.
Abelseth, Koran.
Asplund, Selina.
Asplund, William.
Asplund, Felix.
Assay, Marion.
Ajul, Bemora.
Anderson, Carla.
Brien, Hanno O.
Buckley, Daniel.
Bradley, Bridget.
Badman, Emily.
Bockstrom, Mary.
Bolos, Monthora.
Bakline, Latifa.
Bakline, Marie.
Bakline, Eugene.
Bakline, Helena.
Coutts, Winnie.
Coutts, William.
Coutts, Veville.
Carr, Ellen.
Colier, Gosham,.
Cribb, Laura.
Cassen, Nassef.
Connelly, Kate.
Dorkings, Edward.
Driscoll, Bridget.
Daly, Eugene.
Devincy, Margaret.
Draplin, Jennie.
Dean, Ettie.
Dean, Bertram.
Dean, Gladys.
Davidson, Mary.
Dahl, Charles.
Daly, Marcella.
Dardell, Elizabeth.
Dyker, Elizabeth.
Darawich, Hassin.
Darawich, George.
Darawich, Marian.
Dugennon, Joseph.
Emanuel, Ethel.
Fastaman, David.
Frithjof, Mathesen.
Fatnai, Ermaculmam.
Glynn, Mary.
Goldsmith, Emily.
Goldsmith, Frank.
Gallinagh, Kate.
Gunner, Tonjlon.
Hyman, Abraham.
Howard, Mary.
Hokkarmer, Ellen.
Hermen, Hilda.
Hanson, Jenny.
Hedman, Oscar.
Hamann, Merris.
Hillsbrom, Hilda.
Hakanen, Line.
Hankonen, Elena.
Jelscrac, Ivar.
Jermyn, Annie.
Johansen, Oscar.
Joseph, Katherine.
Joseph, Mary.
Jenson, Carl.
Johanson, Berendt.
Johanson, Oscar L.
Johnson, Alice.
Johnsen, Eleanora.
Johnsen, Harold.
Joseph, Mary.
Jousef, Shanin.
John, Borah.
Janson, Carl.
Jonsila, Eric.
Kelly, Annie.
Kelly, Mary.
Kockoven, Erichan.
Kennedy, John.
Kink, Anton.
Kink, Louisa.
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Kurum, Franz.
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Lindin, Olga.
Lundstrom, Imric.
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Lulu, Newlin.
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Moran, Bertha.
Madigan, Maggie.
Mechlane, Ellen.
McDermott, Delia.
Marion, Margaret.
Murphy, Maggie.
Murphy, Kate.
Moor, Neuna.
Moor, Belle.
Mulvehill, Bertha.
McCoy, Bernard.
Mullen, Kate.
Murphy, Norah.
Midtago, Carl.
Moss, Albert.
Messenacker, Arcina.
Monbarck, Annie.
Monbarck, Gurio.
Monbarck, Halim.
McCormack, Thos.
McCoy, Agnes.
McCarthy, Kate.
McCoy, Alice.
McGovan, Mary.
McGovan, Annie.
Nelson, Bertha.
Nzsten, Annan.
Nelson, Helmina.
Nicola, Jancole.
Nicola, Elias.
Neckard, Said.
Neckard, Wodar.
Neckard, Marim.
Nigel, Joseph.
Niskanan, John.
O’Dwyer, Nellie.
O’Keefe, Patrick.
O’Leary, Norah.
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Olman, Vilm.
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Person, Ernes.
Ryan, Edward.
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Schurlich, Jane.
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Sunderland, Victor.
Shina, Ellen.
Smyth, Julian.
Stanley, Amig.
Sevenson, Servin.
Sundman, Julian.
Sjoblom, Annie.
Sandstrom, Agnes.
Sandstrom, Margaret.
Sandstrom, Beatrice.
Salkjclsock, Anna.
Scunda, Famimi.
Scunda, Assed.
Strand, Jahs.
Thornycroft, Florence.
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Turnqu, Wm. H.
Turgen, Ann.
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Vagie, Adele Jane.
Winnerstrom, Amy E.
Wilkes, Ellen.
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Chip Chang.
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Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:
in a pitably=> in a pitiably {pg vi}
the magnificance=> the magnificence {pg vi}
space alloted=> space allotted {pg vi}
Refused Helf from=> Refused Help from {pg xii}
571 lies lost=> 571 lives lost {pg xv}
50 lies lost=> 50 lives lost {pg xv}
hundering knocks=> thundering knocks {pg 25}
the survivors says=> the survivors say {pg 27}
belief hat=> belief that {pg 30}
injurying my spine=> injuring my spine {pg 40}
the liftboats=> the lifeboats {pg 42}
The millionarie New=> The millionaire New {pg 51}
or exaggreated=> or exaggerated {pg 56}
were swniging=> were swinging {pg 60}
seen the iceberk=> seen the iceberg {pg 63}
fill them when whey they=> fill them when they {pg 68}
those pitfully few=> those pitifully few {pg 71}
cumberstone boats=> cumbersome boats {pg 72}
get the the cumbersome=> get the cumbersome {pg 72}
than Mr. Stegel is=> than Mr. Stengel is {pg 90}
quickly from itself=> quickly form itself {pg 98}
Countless Aids=> Countess Aids {pg 103}
Narvatil’s husband=> Navratil’s husband {pg 112}
clapsed her in her arms=> clasped her in her arms {pg 118}
clasped in his embace=> clasped in his embrace {pg 121}
hardly started before=> hardly startled before {pg 122}
overcome with horrow=> overcome with horror {pg 134}
quicky grasped=> quickly grasped {pg 136}
proved of cosiderable=> proved of considerable {pg 140}
frightened peolple=> frightened people {pg 145}
It was was not until=> It was not until {pg 146}
women and chidlren=> women and children {pg 151}
stagged and collapsed=> staggered and collapsed {pg 151}
cremated now as them=> cremated now as then {pg 153}
the ship do down=> the ship go down {pg 154}
with a factured leg=> with a fractured leg {pg 164}
glass,” said Whitely=> glass,” said Whitley {pg 164}
after the boats struck=> after the boat struck {pg 165}
THERE WAS TWO=> THERE WERE TWO {pg 166}
his wife bood-bye=> his wife good-bye {pg 168}
not to go to sleep=> not go to sleep {pg 178}
it was unbelieveable=> it was unbelievable {pg 177}
were lowereing lifeboats=> were lowering lifeboats {pg 185}
withtout a hat=> without a hat {pg 186}
my feeet at=> my feet at {pg 188}
went to the the starboard side=> went to the starboard side {pg 189}
Eightth avenue=> Eighth avenue {pg 196}
had previosuly had=> had previously had {pg 199}
called the millionaries’=> called the millionares’ {pg 212}
now down on the horizon=> low down on the horizon {pg 215}
Just them day broke=> Just then day broke {pg 215}
stopping disorder that anything=> stopping disorder than anything {pg
223}
Chief Witesses=> Chief Witnesses {pg 235}
answered Cottom=> answered Cottom {pg 247}
It’s captain’s end=> Its captain’s end {pg 249}
messages Mr. Philips => messages Mr. Phillips {pg 253}
had been injuried=> had been injured {pg 253}
Phillipps stepped out on the beat=> Phillips stepped out on the boat
{pg 256}
these was Phillipps=> these was Phillips {pg 256}
ilfeboats from=> lifeboats from {pg 274}
Cailfornian display=> Californian display {Report} Fortune, Clarles=>
Fortune, Charles {pg list}
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