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.
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 fineclear, 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, andagain, 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.
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 fineclear, 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.
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.
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, andagain, 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.
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.
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.
“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.
“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 thesecond 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.’
“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. Theman 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.
“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 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.
“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.
“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 andthe 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.
“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 aroundthe 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.
“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.
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.
“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.”
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.
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 intothe 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.”
“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.
“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.
“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.
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 forsmall 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.
“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.
“‘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 whowere 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.
“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 knownto 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.
“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.
“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.”
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 anextra 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.
“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.
“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. Ibelieve 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.
“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.
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 thedecks. 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.