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.
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. Theothers 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.
“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.”
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 wasnever 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.
“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.”
“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:
“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 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.
“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 womenclimbed 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.
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 sayone 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.”
“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 sayone 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.”
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.
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.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“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 shesank, 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.
“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 shotby 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.
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 thelast. 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.”
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 insistedthat 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.
“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 sceneof 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.
“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, 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 andseveral 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.”