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Title: The Truth about the Titanic

Author: Archibald Gracie

Release date: March 8, 2022 [eBook #67584]
                Most recently updated: October 18, 2024

Language: English

Original publication: United States: Mitchell Kennerley

Credits: MFR, Sam W. and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRUTH ABOUT THE TITANIC ***

                 THE TRUTH
             ABOUT THE TITANIC

                    BY
         COLONEL ARCHIBALD GRACIE

                 AUTHOR OF
        THE TRUTH ABOUT CHICKAMAUGA


           SIXTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS


              [Illustration]


                 NEW YORK
            MITCHELL KENNERLEY
                   1913


            _Copyright 1913 by_
           _Mitchell Kennerley_


  _Press of J. J. Little & Ives Company_
        _East Twenty-fourth Street_
                _New York_




  [Illustration: COLONEL ARCHIBALD GRACIE]




CONTENTS


  CHAPTER                                                     PAGE
    I. The Last Day Aboard Ship                                  1

   II. Struck By an Iceberg                                     14

  III. The Foundering of the “Titanic”                          51

   IV. Struggling in the Water for Life                         64

    V. All Night on Bottom of Half-Submerged Upturned Boat      87

   VI. The Port Side: Women and Children First                 114

  VII. Starboard Side: Women First, But Men When There
         Were No Women                                         225

  Concluding Note                                              325




ILLUSTRATIONS


  Colonel Archibald Gracie                          _Frontispiece_

                                                       FACING PAGE
  The _Titanic_                                                  2

  The Promenade Deck of the _Titanic_                           12

  Mr. and Mrs. Isidor Straus                                    24

  First-Class Smoking Room                                      28

  Bedroom of Parlor Suite                                       40

  Suite Bedroom                                                 40

  James Clinch Smith                                            48

  Boilers of the _Titanic_ arranged in Messrs. Harland
    & Wolff’s Works                                             52

  Thomas Andrews, Jr., Designer of the _Titanic_                58

  Joseph Bell, Chief Engineer                                   58

  The Last Photograph of the _Titanic’s_ Commander and
    Three Officers                                              60

  Passengers of the _Olympic_ awaiting Events                  104

  The Overturned Engelhardt Boat B                             110

  The _Titanic_ narrowly Escapes Collision at Southampton      134

  Fifth Officer Lowe Towing the Canvas Collapsible             158

  The Canvas Collapsible                                       158

  Captain Rostron of the S. S. _Carpathia_                     180

  Photographed from the _Carpathia_                            242




THE TRUTH ABOUT THE “TITANIC”




CHAPTER I

THE LAST DAY ABOARD SHIP

    “There is that Leviathan.”--Ps. 104:26.


AS the sole survivor of all the men passengers of the _Titanic_
stationed during the loading of six or more lifeboats with women and
children on the port side of the ship, forward on the glass-sheltered
Deck A, and later on the Boat Deck above, it is my duty to bear
testimony to the heroism on the part of all concerned. First, to my
men companions who calmly stood by until the lifeboats had departed
loaded with women and the available complement of crew, and who,
fifteen to twenty minutes later, sank with the ship, conscious of
giving up their lives to save the weak and the helpless.

Second, to Second Officer Lightoller and his ship’s crew, who did
their duty as if similar occurrences were matters of daily routine;
and thirdly, to the women, who showed no signs of fear or panic
whatsoever under conditions more appalling than were ever recorded
before in the history of disasters at sea.

I think those of my readers who are accustomed to tales of thrilling
adventure will be glad to learn first-hand of the heroism displayed on
the _Titanic_ by those to whom it is my privilege and sad duty to pay
this tribute. I will confine the details of my narrative for the most
part to what I personally saw, and did, and heard during that
never-to-be-forgotten maiden trip of the _Titanic_, which ended with
shipwreck and her foundering about 2.22 a. m., Monday, April 15, 1912,
after striking an iceberg “in or near latitude 41 degrees, 46 minutes
N., longitude 50 degrees, 14 minutes W., North Atlantic Ocean,”
whereby the loss of 1490 lives ensued.

On Sunday morning, April 14th, this marvellous ship, the perfection of
all vessels hitherto conceived by the brain of man, had, for three and
one-half days, proceeded on her way from Southampton to New York over
a sea of glass, so level it appeared, without encountering a ripple
brought on the surface of the water by a storm.

  [Illustration: THE TITANIC
    (Photographed in Southampton Water the day she sailed)]

The Captain had each day improved upon the previous day’s speed,
and prophesied that, with continued fair weather, we should make an
early arrival record for this maiden trip. But his reckoning never
took into consideration that Protean monster of the Northern seas
which, even before this, had been so fatal to the navigator’s
calculations and so formidable a weapon of destruction.

Our explorers have pierced to the furthest north and south of the
icebergs’ retreat, but the knowledge of their habitat, insuring our
great ocean liners in their successful efforts to elude them, has not
reached the detail of time and place where they become detached and
obstruct their path.

In the twenty-four hours’ run ending the 14th, according to the posted
reckoning, the ship had covered 546 miles, and we were told that the
next twenty-four hours would see even a better record made.

Towards evening the report, which I heard, was spread that wireless
messages from passing steamers had been received advising the officers
of our ship of the presence of icebergs and ice-floes. The increasing
cold and the necessity of being more warmly clad when appearing on
deck were outward and visible signs in corroboration of these
warnings. But despite them all no diminution of speed was indicated
and the engines kept up their steady running.

Not for fifty years, the old sailors tell us, had so great a mass of
ice and icebergs at this time of the year been seen so far south.

The pleasure and comfort which all of us enjoyed upon this floating
palace, with its extraordinary provisions for such purposes, seemed an
ominous feature to many of us, including myself, who felt it almost
too good to last without some terrible retribution inflicted by the
hand of an angry omnipotence. Our sentiment in this respect was voiced
by one of the most able and distinguished of our fellow passengers,
Mr. Charles M. Hays, President of the Canadian Grand Trunk Railroad.
Engaged as he then was in studying and providing the hotel equipment
along the line of new extensions to his own great railroad system, the
consideration of the subject and of the magnificence of the
_Titanic’s_ accommodations was thus brought home to him. This was the
prophetic utterance with which, alas, he sealed his fate a few hours
thereafter: “The White Star, the Cunard and the Hamburg-American
lines,” said he, “are now devoting their attention to a struggle for
supremacy in obtaining the most luxurious appointments for their
ships, but the time will soon come when the greatest and most
appalling of all disasters at sea will be the result.”

In the various trips which I have made across the Atlantic, it has
been my custom aboard ship, whenever the weather permitted, to take as
much exercise every day as might be needful to put myself in prime
physical condition, but on board the _Titanic_, during the first days
of the voyage, from Wednesday to Saturday, I had departed from this,
my usual self-imposed regimen, for during this interval I had devoted
my time to social enjoyment and to the reading of books taken from the
ship’s well-supplied library. I enjoyed myself as if I were in a
summer palace on the seashore, surrounded with every comfort--there
was nothing to indicate or suggest that we were on the stormy Atlantic
Ocean. The motion of the ship and the noise of its machinery were
scarcely discernible on deck or in the saloons, either day or night.
But when Sunday morning came, I considered it high time to begin my
customary exercises, and determined for the rest of the voyage to
patronize the squash racquet court, the gymnasium, the swimming pool,
etc. I was up early before breakfast and met the professional racquet
player in a half hour’s warming up, preparatory for a swim in the
six-foot deep tank of salt water, heated to a refreshing temperature.
In no swimming bath had I ever enjoyed such pleasure before. How
curtailed that enjoyment would have been had the presentiment come to
me telling how near it was to being my last plunge, and that before
dawn of another day I would be swimming for my life in mid-ocean,
under water and on the surface, in a temperature of 28 degrees
Fahrenheit!

Impressed on my memory as if it were but yesterday, my mind pictures
the personal appearance and recalls the conversation which I had with
each of these employees of the ship. The racquet professional, F.
Wright, was a clean-cut, typical young Englishman, similar to hundreds
I have seen and with whom I have played, in bygone years, my favorite
game of cricket, which has done more than any other sport for my
physical development. I have not seen his name mentioned in any
account of the disaster, and therefore take this opportunity of
speaking of him, for I am perhaps the only survivor able to relate
anything about his last days on earth.

Hundreds of letters have been written to us survivors, many containing
photographs for identification of some lost loved one, whom perchance
we may have seen or talked to before he met his fate. To these
numerous inquiries I have been able to reply satisfactorily only in
rare instances. The next and last time I saw Wright was on the
stairway of Deck C within three-quarters of an hour after the
collision. I was going to my cabin when I met him on the stairs going
up. “Hadn’t we better cancel that appointment for to-morrow morning?”
I said rather jocosely to him. “Yes,” he replied, but did not stop to
tell what he then must have known of the conditions in the racquet
court on G Deck, which, according to other witnesses, had at that time
become flooded. His voice was calm, without enthusiasm, and perhaps
his face was a little whiter than usual.

To the swimming pool attendant I also made promise to be on hand
earlier the next morning, but I never saw him again.

One of the characters of the ship, best known to us all, was the
gymnasium instructor, T. W. McCawley. He, also, expected me to make my
first appearance for real good exercise on the morrow, but alas, he,
too, was swallowed up by the sea. How well we survivors all remember
this sturdy little man in white flannels and with his broad English
accent! With what tireless enthusiasm he showed us the many mechanical
devices under his charge and urged us to take advantage of the
opportunity of using them, going through the motions of bicycle
racing, rowing, boxing, camel and horseback riding, etc.

Such was my morning’s preparation for the unforeseen physical
exertions I was compelled to put forth for dear life at midnight, a
few hours later. Could any better training for the terrible ordeal
have been planned?

The exercise and the swim gave me an appetite for a hearty breakfast.
Then followed the church service in the dining saloon, and I remember
how much I was impressed with the “Prayer for those at Sea,” also the
words of the hymn, which we sang, No. 418 of the Hymnal. About a
fortnight later, when I next heard it sung, I was in the little church
at Smithtown, Long Island, attending the memorial service in honor of
my old friend and fellow member of the Union Club, James Clinch Smith.
To his sister, who sat next to me in the pew, I called attention to
the fact that it was the last hymn we sang on this Sunday morning on
board the _Titanic_. She was much affected, and gave the reason for
its selection for the memorial service to her brother because it was
known as Jim’s favorite hymn, being the first piece set to music ever
played by him as a child and for which he was rewarded with a promised
prize, donated by his father.

What a remarkable coincidence that at the first and last ship’s
service on board the _Titanic_, the hymn we sang began with these
impressive lines:

    O God our help in ages past,
      Our hope for years to come,
    Our shelter from the stormy blast
      And our eternal home.

One day was so like another that it is difficult to differentiate in
our description all the details of this last day’s incidents aboard
ship.

The book that I finished and returned to the ship’s library was Mary
Johnston’s “Old Dominion.” While peacefully reading the tales of
adventure and accounts of extraordinary escapes therein, how little I
thought that in the next few hours I should be a witness and a party
to a scene to which this book could furnish no counterpart, and that
my own preservation from a watery grave would afford a remarkable
illustration of how ofttimes “truth is stranger than fiction.”

During this day I saw much of Mr. and Mrs. Isidor Straus. In fact,
from the very beginning to the end of our trip on the _Titanic_, we
had been together several times each day. I was with them on the deck
the day we left Southampton and witnessed that ominous accident to the
American liner, _New York_, lying at her pier, when the displacement
of water by the movement of our gigantic ship caused a suction which
pulled the smaller ship from her moorings and nearly caused a
collision. At the time of this, Mr. Straus was telling me that it
seemed only a few years back that he had taken passage on this same
ship, the _New York_, on her maiden trip and when she was spoken of as
the “last word in shipbuilding.” He then called the attention of his
wife and myself to the progress that had since been made, by
comparison of the two ships then lying side by side. During our daily
talks thereafter, he related much of special interest concerning
incidents in his remarkable career, beginning with his early manhood
in Georgia when, with the Confederate Government Commissioners, as an
agent for the purchase of supplies, he ran the blockade of Europe. His
friendship with President Cleveland, and how the latter had honored
him, were among the topics of daily conversation that interested me
most.

On this Sunday, our last day aboard ship, he finished the reading of a
book I had loaned him, in which he expressed intense interest. This
book was “The Truth About Chickamauga,” of which I am the author, and
it was to gain a much-needed rest after seven years of work thereon,
and in order to get it off my mind, that I had taken this trip across
the ocean and back. As a counter-irritant, my experience was a dose
which was highly efficacious.

I recall how Mr. and Mrs. Straus were particularly happy about noon
time on this same day in anticipation of communicating by wireless
telegraphy with their son and his wife on their way to Europe on board
the passing ship _Amerika_. Some time before six o’clock, full of
contentment, they told me of the message of greeting received in
reply. This last good-bye to their loved ones must have been a
consoling thought when the end came a few hours thereafter.

That night after dinner, with my table companions, Messrs. James Clinch
Smith and Edward A. Kent, according to usual custom, we adjourned to
the palm room, with many others, for the usual coffee at individual
tables where we listened to the always delightful music of the
_Titanic’s_ band. On these occasions, full dress was always en règle;
and it was a subject both of observation and admiration, that there
were so many beautiful women--then especially in evidence--aboard the
ship.

I invariably circulated around during these delightful evenings,
chatting with those I knew, and with those whose acquaintance I had
made during the voyage. I might specify names and particularize
subjects of conversation, but the details, while interesting to those
concerned, might not be so to all my readers. The recollections of
those with whom I was thus closely associated in this disaster,
including those who suffered the death from which I escaped and those
who survived with me, will be a treasured memory and bond of union
until my dying day. From the palm room, the men of my coterie would
always go to the smoking room, and almost every evening join in
conversation with some of the well-known men whom we met there,
including within my own recollections Major Archie Butt, President
Taft’s Military Aid, discussing politics; Clarence Moore, of
Washington, D. C., relating his venturesome trip some years ago
through the West Virginia woods and mountains, helping a newspaper
reporter in obtaining an interview with the outlaw, Captain Anse
Hatfield; Frank D. Millet, the well-known artist, planning a journey
west; Arthur Ryerson and others.

During these evenings I also conversed with Mr. John B. Thayer, Second
Vice-President of the Pennsylvania Railroad, and with Mr. George D.
Widener, a son of the Philadelphia street-car magnate, Mr. P. A. B.
Widener.

My stay in the smoking-room on this particular evening for the first
time was short, and I retired early with my cabin steward Cullen’s
promise to awaken me betimes next morning to get ready for the
engagements I had made before breakfast for the game of racquets,
work in the gymnasium and the swim that was to follow.

  [Illustration: THE PROMENADE DECK OF THE TITANIC
    _Photograph by Underwood & Underwood, New York_]

I cannot regard it as a mere coincidence that on this particular
Sunday night I was thus prompted to retire early for nearly three
hours of invigorating sleep, whereas an accident occurring at midnight
of any of the four preceding days would have found me mentally and
physically tired. That I was thus strengthened for the terrible
ordeal, better even than had I been forewarned of it, I regard on the
contrary as the first provision for my safety (answering the constant
prayers of those at home), made by the guardian angel to whose care I
was entrusted during the series of miraculous escapes presently to be
recorded.




CHAPTER II

STRUCK BY AN ICEBERG

    “Watchman, what of the night?”--Isaiah 21:11.


MY stateroom was an outside one on Deck C on the starboard quarter,
somewhat abaft amidships. It was No. C, 51. I was enjoying a good
night’s rest when I was aroused by a sudden shock and noise forward on
the starboard side, which I at once concluded was caused by a
collision, with some other ship perhaps. I jumped from my bed, turned
on the electric light, glanced at my watch nearby on the dresser,
which I had changed to agree with ship’s time on the day before and
which now registered twelve o’clock. Correct ship’s time would make it
about 11.45. I opened the door of my cabin, looked out into the
corridor, but could not see or hear anyone--there was no commotion
whatever; but immediately following the collision came a great noise
of escaping steam. I listened intently, but could hear no machinery.
There was no mistaking that something wrong had happened, because of
the ship stopping and the blowing off of steam.

Removing my night clothing I dressed myself hurriedly in
underclothing, shoes and stockings, trousers and a Norfolk coat. I
give these details in order that some idea of the lapse of time may be
formed by an account of what I did during the interval. From my cabin,
through the corridor to the stairway was but a short distance, and I
ascended to the third deck above, that is, to the Boat Deck. I found
here only one young lad, seemingly bent on the same quest as myself.

From the first cabin quarter, forward on the port side, we strained
our eyes to discover what had struck us. From vantage points where the
view was not obstructed by the lifeboats on this deck I sought the
object, but in vain, though I swept the horizon near and far and
discovered nothing.

It was a beautiful night, cloudless, and the stars shining brightly.
The atmosphere was quite cold, but no ice or iceberg was in sight. If
another ship had struck us there was no trace of it, and it did not
yet occur to me that it was an iceberg with which we had collided. Not
satisfied with a partial investigation, I made a complete tour of the
deck, searching every point of the compass with my eyes. Going toward
the stern, I vaulted over the iron gate and fence that divide the
first and second cabin passengers. I disregarded the “not allowed”
notice. I looked about me towards the officers’ quarters in
expectation of being challenged for non-observance of rules. In view
of the collision I had expected to see some of the ship’s officers on
the Boat Deck, but there was no sign of an officer anywhere, and no
one from whom to obtain any information about what had happened.
Making my tour of the Boat Deck, the only other beings I saw were a
middle-aged couple of the second cabin promenading unconcernedly, arm
in arm, forward on the starboard quarter, against the wind, the man in
a gray overcoat and outing cap.

Having gained no satisfaction whatever, I descended to the
glass-enclosed Deck A, port side, and looked over the rail to see
whether the ship was on an even keel, but I still could see nothing
wrong. Entering the companionway, I passed Mr. Ismay with a member of
the crew hurrying up the stairway. He wore a day suit, and, as usual,
was hatless. He seemed too much preoccupied to notice anyone.
Therefore I did not speak to him, but regarded his face very closely,
perchance to learn from his manner how serious the accident might be.
It occurred to me then that he was putting on as brave a face as
possible so as to cause no alarm among the passengers.

At the foot of the stairway were a number of men passengers, and I now
for the first time discovered that others were aroused as well as
myself, among them my friend, Clinch Smith, from whom I first learned
that an iceberg had struck us. He opened his hand and showed me some
ice, flat like my watch, coolly suggesting that I might take it home
for a souvenir. All of us will remember the way he had of cracking a
joke without a smile. While we stood there, the story of the collision
came to us--how someone in the smoking room, when the ship struck,
rushed out to see what it was, and returning, told them that he had a
glimpse of an iceberg towering fifty feet above Deck A, which, if
true, would indicate a height of over one hundred feet. Here, too, I
learned that the mail room was flooded and that the plucky postal
clerks, in two feet of water, were at their posts. They were engaged
in transferring to the upper deck, from the ship’s post-office, the
two hundred bags of registered mail containing four hundred thousand
letters. The names of these men, who all sank with the ship, deserve
to be recorded. They were: John S. Marsh, William L. Gwynn, Oscar S.
Woody, Iago Smith and E. D. Williamson. The first three were
Americans, the others Englishmen, and the families of the former were
provided for by their Government.

And now Clinch Smith and myself noticed a list on the floor of the
companionway. We kept our own counsel about it, not wishing to
frighten anyone or cause any unnecessary alarm, especially among the
ladies, who then appeared upon the scene. We did not consider it our
duty to express our individual opinion upon the serious character of
the accident which now appealed to us with the greatest force. He and
I resolved to stick together in the final emergency, united in the
silent bond of friendship, and lend a helping hand to each other
whenever required. I recall having in my mind’s eye at this moment all
that I had read and heard in days gone by about shipwrecks, and
pictured Smith and myself clinging to an overloaded raft in an open
sea with a scarcity of food and water. We agreed to visit our
respective staterooms and join each other later. All possessions in my
stateroom were hastily packed into three large travelling bags so that
the luggage might be ready in the event of a hasty transfer to another
ship.

Fortunately I put on my long Newmarket overcoat that reached below my
knees, and as I passed from the corridor into the companionway my
worst fears were confirmed. Men and women were slipping on
life-preservers, the stewards assisting in adjusting them. Steward
Cullen insisted upon my returning to my stateroom for mine. I did so
and he fastened one on me while I brought out the other for use by
someone else.

Out on Deck A, port side, towards the stern, many men and women had
already collected. I sought and found the unprotected ladies to whom I
had proffered my services during the voyage when they boarded the ship
at Southampton, Mrs. E. D. Appleton, wife of my St. Paul’s School
friend and schoolmate; Mrs. R. C. Cornell, wife of the well-known New
York Justice, and Mrs. J. Murray Brown, wife of the Boston publisher,
all old friends of my wife. These three sisters were returning home
from a sad mission abroad, where they had laid to rest the remains of
a fourth sister, Lady Victor Drummond, of whose death I had read
accounts in the London papers, and all the sad details connected
therewith were told me by the sisters themselves. That they would have
to pass through a still greater ordeal seemed impossible, and how
little did I know of the responsibility I took upon myself for their
safety! Accompanying them, also unprotected, was their friend, Miss
Edith Evans, to whom they introduced me. Mr. and Mrs. Straus, Colonel
and Mrs. Astor and others well known to me were among those here
congregated on the port side of Deck A, including, besides Clinch
Smith, two of our coterie of after-dinner companions, Hugh Woolner,
son of the English sculptor, whose works are to be seen in Westminster
Abbey, and H. Björnström Steffanson, the young lieutenant of the
Swedish army, who, during the voyage, had told me of his acquaintance
with Mrs. Gracie’s relatives in Sweden.

It was now that the band began to play, and continued while the boats
were being lowered. We considered this a wise provision tending to
allay excitement. I did not recognize any of the tunes, but I know
they were cheerful and were not hymns. If, as has been reported,
“Nearer My God to Thee” was one of the selections, I assuredly should
have noticed it and regarded it as a tactless warning of immediate
death to us all and one likely to create a panic that our special
efforts were directed towards avoiding, and which we accomplished to
the fullest extent. I know of only two survivors whose names are cited
by the newspapers as authority for the statement that this hymn was
one of those played. On the other hand, all whom I have questioned or
corresponded with, including the best qualified, testified
emphatically to the contrary.

Our hopes were buoyed with the information, imparted through the
ship’s officers, that there had been an interchange of wireless
messages with passing ships, one of which was certainly coming to our
rescue. To reassure the ladies of whom I had assumed special charge, I
showed them a bright white light of what I took to be a ship about
five miles off and which I felt sure was coming to our rescue. Colonel
Astor heard me telling this to them and he asked me to show it and I
pointed the light out to him. In so doing we both had now to lean over
the rail of the ship and look close in towards the bow, avoiding a
lifeboat even then made ready with its gunwale lowered to the level of
the floor of the Boat Deck above us and obstructing our view; but
instead of growing brighter the light grew dim and less and less
distinct and passed away altogether. The light, as I have since
learned, with tearful regret for the lost who might have been saved,
belonged to the steamer _Californian_ of the Leyland line, Captain
Stanley Lord, bound from London to Boston. She belonged to the
International Mercantile Marine Company, the owners of the _Titanic_.

This was the ship from which two of the six “ice messages” were sent.
The first one received and acknowledged by the _Titanic_ was one at
7.30 p. m., an intercepted message to another ship. The next was
about 11 p. m., when the Captain of the _Californian_ saw a ship
approaching from the eastward, which he was advised to be the
_Titanic_, and under his orders this message was sent: “We are stopped
and surrounded by ice.” To this the _Titanic’s_ wireless operator
brusquely replied, “Shut up, I am busy. I am working Cape Race.” The
business here referred to was the sending of wireless messages for
passengers on the _Titanic_; and the stronger current of the
_Californian_ eastward interfered therewith. Though the navigation of
the ship and the issues of life and death were at stake, the right of
way was given to communication with Cape Race until within a few
minutes of the _Titanic’s_ collision with the iceberg.

Nearly all this time, until 11.30 p. m., the wireless operator of the
_Californian_ was listening with ’phones on his head, but at 11.30
p. m., while the _Titanic_ was still talking to Cape Race, the former
ship’s operator “put the ’phones down, took off his clothes and turned
in.”

The fate of thousands of lives hung in the balance many times that
ill-omened night, but _the circumstances in connection with the S. S.
Californian_ (Br. Rep. pp. 43-46), furnish the evidence corroborating
that of the American Investigation, viz., that it was not chance, but
the grossest negligence alone which sealed the fate of all the noble
lives, men and women, that were lost.

It appears from the evidence referred to, information in regard to
which we learned after our arrival in New York, that the Captain of
the _Californian_ and his crew were watching our lights from the deck
of their ship, which remained approximately stationary until 5.15
a. m. on the following morning. During this interval it is shown that
they were never distant more than six or seven miles. In fact, at 12
o’clock, the _Californian_ was only four or five miles off at the
point and in the general direction where she was seen by myself and at
least a dozen others, who bore testimony before the American
Committee, from the decks of the _Titanic_. The white rockets which we
sent up, referred to presently, were also plainly seen at the time.
Captain Lord was completely in possession of the knowledge that he was
in proximity to a ship in distress. He could have put himself into
immediate communication with us by wireless had he desired
confirmation of the name of the ship and the disaster which had
befallen it. His indifference is made apparent by his orders to “go on
Morseing,” instead of utilizing the more modern method of the
inventive genius and gentleman, Mr. Marconi, which eventually saved
us all. “The night was clear and the sea was smooth. The ice by which
the _Californian_ was surrounded,” says the British Report, “was loose
ice extending for a distance of not more than two or three miles in
the direction of the _Titanic_.” When she first saw the rockets, the
_Californian_ could have pushed through the ice to the open water
without any serious risk and so have come to the assistance of the
_Titanic_. A discussion of this subject is the most painful of all
others for those who lost their loved ones aboard our ship.

When we realized that the ship whose lights we saw was not coming
towards us, our hopes of rescue were correspondingly depressed, but
the men’s counsel to preserve calmness prevailed; and to reassure the
ladies they repeated the much advertised fiction of “the unsinkable
ship” on the supposed highest qualified authority. It was at this
point that Miss Evans related to me the story that years ago in London
she had been told by a fortune-teller to “beware of water,” and now
“she knew she would be drowned.” My efforts to persuade her to the
contrary were futile. Though she gave voice to her story, she
presented no evidence whatever of fear, and when I saw and conversed
with her an hour later when conditions appeared especially desperate,
and the last lifeboat was supposed to have departed, she was
perfectly calm and did not revert again to the superstitious tale.

  [Illustration: MR. AND MRS. ISIDOR STRAUS]

From my own conclusions, and those of others, it appears that about
forty-five minutes had now elapsed since the collision when Captain
Smith’s orders were transmitted to the crew to lower the lifeboats,
loaded with women and children first. The self-abnegation of Mr. and
Mrs. Isidor Straus here shone forth heroically when she promptly and
emphatically exclaimed: “No! I will not be separated from my husband;
as we have lived, so will we die together;” and when he, too, declined
the assistance proffered on my earnest solicitation that, because of
his age and helplessness, exception should be made and he be allowed
to accompany his wife in the boat. “No!” he said, “I do not wish any
distinction in my favor which is not granted to others.” As near as I
can recall them these were the words which they addressed to me. They
expressed themselves as fully prepared to die, and calmly sat down in
steamer chairs on the glass-enclosed Deck A, prepared to meet their
fate. Further entreaties to make them change their decision were of no
avail. Later they moved to the Boat Deck above, accompanying Mrs.
Straus’s maid, who entered a lifeboat.

When the order to load the boats was received I had promptly moved
forward with the ladies in my charge toward the boats then being
lowered from the Boat Deck above to Deck A on the port side of the
ship, where we then were. A tall, slim young Englishman, Sixth Officer
J. P. Moody, whose name I learned later, with other members of the
ship’s crew, barred the progress of us men passengers any nearer to
the boats. All that was left me was then to consign these ladies in my
charge to the protection of the ship’s officer, and I thereby was
relieved of their responsibility and felt sure that they would be
safely loaded in the boats at this point. I remember a steward rolling
a small barrel out of the door of the companionway. “What have you
there?” said I. “Bread for the lifeboats,” was his quick and cheery
reply, as I passed inside the ship for the last time, searching for
two of my table companions, Mrs. Churchill Candee of Washington and
Mr. Edward A. Kent. It was then that I met Wright, the racquet player,
and exchanged the few words on the stairway already related.

Considering it well to have a supply of blankets for use in the open
boats exposed to the cold, I concluded, while passing, to make
another, and my last, descent to my stateroom for this purpose, only
to find it locked, and on asking the reason why was told by some other
steward than Cullen that it was done “to prevent looting.” Advising
him of what was wanted, I went with him to the cabin stewards’
quarters nearby, where extra blankets were stored, and where I
obtained them. I then went the length of the ship inside on this
glass-enclosed Deck A from aft, forwards, looking in every room and
corner for my missing table companions, but no passengers whatever
were to be seen except in the smoking room, and there all alone by
themselves, seated around a table, were four men, three of whom were
personally well known to me, Major Butt, Clarence Moore and Frank
Millet, but the fourth was a stranger, whom I therefore cannot
identify. All four seemed perfectly oblivious of what was going on on
the decks outside. It is impossible to suppose that they did not know
of the collision with an iceberg and that the room they were in had
been deserted by all others, who had hastened away. It occurred to me
at the time that these men desired to show their entire indifference
to the danger and that if I advised them as to how seriously I
regarded it, they would laugh at me. This was the last I ever saw of
any of them, and I know of no one who testifies to seeing them later,
except a lady who mentions having seen Major Butt on the bridge five
minutes before the last boat left the ship.[1] There is no authentic
story of what they did when the water reached this deck, and their
ultimate fate is only a matter of conjecture. That they went down in
the ship on this Deck A, when the steerage passengers (as described
later) blocked the way to the deck above, is my personal belief,
founded on the following facts, to wit: First, that neither I nor
anyone else, so far as I know, ever saw any of them on the Boat Deck,
and second, that the bodies of none of them were ever recovered,
indicating the possibility that all went down inside the ship or the
enclosed deck.

    [1] See page --.

I next find myself forward on the port side, part of the time on the
Boat Deck, and part on the deck below it, called Deck A, where I
rejoined Clinch Smith, who reported that Mrs. Candee had departed on
one of the boats. We remained together until the ship went down. I was
on the Boat Deck when I saw and heard the first rocket, and then
successive ones sent up at intervals thereafter. These were followed
by the Morse red and blue lights, which were signalled near by us on
the deck where we were; but we looked in vain for any response. These
signals of distress indicated to every one of us that the ship’s
fate was sealed, and that she might sink before the lifeboats could be
lowered.

  [Illustration: FIRST-CLASS SMOKING ROOM]

And now I am on Deck A again, where I helped in the loading of two
boats lowered from the deck above. There were twenty boats in all on
the ship: 14 wooden lifeboats, each thirty feet long by nine feet one
inch broad, constructed to carry sixty-five persons each; 2 wooden
cutters, emergency boats, twenty-five feet two inches long by seven
feet two inches broad, constructed to carry forty persons each; and 4
Engelhardt “surf-boats” with canvas collapsible sides extending above
the gunwales, twenty-five feet five inches long by eight feet broad,
constructed to carry forty-seven persons each. The lifeboats were
ranged along the ship’s rail, or its prolongation forward and aft on
the Boat Deck, the odd numbered on the starboard and the even numbered
on the port side. Two of the Engelhardt boats were on the Boat Deck
forward beneath the Emergency boats suspended on davits above. The
other Engelhardt boats were on the roof of the officers’ house forward
of the first funnel. They are designated respectively by the letters,
A. B. C. D.; A and C on the starboard, B and D on the port sides. They
have a rounded bottom like a canoe. The name “collapsible boat”
generally applied has given rise to mistaken impressions in regard to
them, because of the adjustable canvas sides above-mentioned.

At this quarter I was no longer held back from approaching near the
boats, but my assistance and work as one of the crew in the loading of
boats and getting them away as quickly as possible were accepted, for
there was now no time to spare. The Second Officer, Lightoller, was in
command on the port side forward, where I was. One of his feet was
planted in the lifeboat, and the other on the rail of Deck A, while
we, through the wood frames of the lowered glass windows on this deck,
passed women, children, and babies in rapid succession without any
confusion whatsoever. Among this number was Mrs. Astor, whom I lifted
over the four-feet high rail of the ship through the frame. Her
husband held her left arm as we carefully passed her to Lightoller,
who seated her in the boat. A dialogue now ensued between Colonel
Astor and the officer, every word of which I listened to with intense
interest. Astor was close to me in the adjoining window-frame, to the
left of mine. Leaning out over the rail he asked permission of
Lightoller to enter the boat to protect his wife, which, in view of
her delicate condition, seems to have been a reasonable request, but
the officer, intent upon his duty, and obeying orders, and not
knowing the millionaire from the rest of us, replied: “No, sir, no men
are allowed in these boats until women are loaded first.” Colonel
Astor did not demur, but bore the refusal bravely and resignedly,
simply asking the number of the boat to help find his wife later in
case he also was rescued. “Number 4,” was Lightoller’s reply. Nothing
more was said. Colonel Astor moved away from this point and I never
saw him again. I do not for a moment believe the report that he
attempted to enter, or did enter, a boat and it is evident that if any
such thought occurred to him at all it must have been at this present
time and in this boat with his wife. Second Officer Lightoller
recalled the incident perfectly when I reminded him of it. It was only
through me that Colonel Astor’s identity was established in his mind.
“I assumed,” said he, “that I was asked to give the number of the
lifeboat as the passenger intended, for some unknown cause, to make
complaint about me.” From the fact that I never saw Colonel Astor on
the Boat Deck later, and also because his body, when found, was
crushed (according to the statement of one who saw it at Halifax, Mr.
Harry K. White, of Boston, Mr. Edward A. Kent’s brother-in-law, my
schoolmate and friend from boyhood), I am of the opinion that he met
his fate on the ship when the boilers tore through it, as described
later.

One of the incidents I recall when loading the boats at this point
was my seeing a young woman clinging tightly to a baby in her arms as
she approached near the ship’s high rail, but unwilling even for a
moment to allow anyone else to hold the little one while assisting her
to board the lifeboat. As she drew back sorrowfully to the outer edge
of the crowd on the deck, I followed and persuaded her to accompany me
to the rail again, promising if she would entrust the baby to me I
would see that the officer passed it to her after she got aboard. I
remember her trepidation as she acceded to my suggestion and the happy
expression of relief when the mother was safely seated with the baby
restored to her. “Where is my baby?” was her anxious wail. “I have
your baby,” I cried, as it was tenderly handed along. I remember this
incident well because of my feeling at the time, when I had the babe
in my care; though the interval was short, I wondered how I should
manage with it in my arms if the lifeboats got away and I should be
plunged into the water with it as the ship sank.

According to Lightoller’s testimony before the Senate Committee he put
twenty to twenty-five women, with two seamen to row, in the first boat
and thirty, with two seamen, in the second.

Our labors in loading the boats were now shifted to the Boat Deck
above, where Clinch Smith and I, with others, followed Lightoller and
the crew. On this deck some difficulty was experienced in getting the
boats ready to lower. Several causes may have contributed to this,
viz., lack of drill and insufficient number of seamen for such
emergency, or because of the new tackle not working smoothly. We had
the hardest time with the Engelhardt boat, lifting and pushing it
towards and over the rail. My shoulders and the whole weight of my
body were used in assisting the crew at this work. Lightoller’s
testimony tells us that as the situation grew more serious he began to
take chances and in loading the third boat he filled it up as full as
he dared to, with about thirty-five persons. By this time he was short
of seamen, and in the fourth boat he put the first man passenger. “Are
you a sailor?” Lightoller asked, and received the reply from the
gentleman addressed that he was “a yachtsman.” Lightoller told him if
he was “sailor enough to get out over the bulwarks to the lifeboat, to
go ahead.” This passenger was Major Arthur Peuchen, of Toronto, who
acquitted himself as a brave man should. My energies were so
concentrated upon this work of loading the boats at this quarter that
lapse of time, sense of sight and sense of hearing recorded no
impressions during this interval until the last boat was loaded; but
there is one fact of which I am positive, and that is that every man,
woman, officer and member of the crew did their full duty without a
sign of fear or confusion. Lightoller’s strong and steady voice rang
out his orders in clear firm tones, inspiring confidence and
obedience. There was not one woman who shed tears or gave any sign of
fear or distress. There was not a man at this quarter of the ship who
indicated a desire to get into the boats and escape with the women.
There was not a member of the crew who shirked, or left his post. The
coolness, courage, and sense of duty that I here witnessed made me
thankful to God and proud of my Anglo-Saxon race that gave this
perfect and superb exhibition of self-control at this hour of severest
trial. “The boat’s deck was only ten feet from the water when I
lowered the sixth boat,” testified Lightoller, “and when we lowered
the first, the distance to the water was seventy feet.” We had now
loaded all the women who were in sight at that quarter of the ship,
and I ran along the deck with Clinch Smith on the port side some
distance aft shouting, “Are there any more women?” “Are there any more
women?” On my return there was a very palpable list to port as if the
ship was about to topple over. The deck was on a corresponding slant.
“All passengers to the starboard side,” was Lightoller’s loud
command, heard by all of us. Here I thought the final crisis had come,
with the boats all gone, and when we were to be precipitated into the
sea.

Prayerful thoughts now began to rise in me that my life might be
preserved and I be restored to my loved ones at home. I weighed myself
in the balance, doubtful whether I was thus deserving of God’s mercy
and protection. I questioned myself as to the performance of my
religious duties according to the instructions of my earliest
Preceptor, the Rev. Henry A. Coit, whose St. Paul’s School at Concord,
N. H., I had attended. My West Point training in the matter of
recognition of constituted authority and maintenance of composure
stood me in good stead.

My friend, Clinch Smith, urged immediate obedience to Lightoller’s
orders, and, with other men passengers, we crossed over to the
starboard quarter of the ship, forward on the same Boat Deck where, as
I afterwards learned, the officer in command was First Officer
Murdoch, who had also done noble work, and was soon thereafter to lose
his life. Though the deck here was not so noticeably aslant as on the
port side, the conditions appeared fully as desperate. All the
lifeboats had been lowered and had departed. There was somewhat of a
crowd congregated along the rail. The light was sufficient for me to
recognize distinctly many of those with whom I was well acquainted.
Here, pale and determined, was Mr. John B. Thayer, Second
Vice-President of the Pennsylvania Railroad, and Mr. George D.
Widener. They were looking over the ship’s gunwale, talking earnestly
as if debating what to do. Next to them it pained me to discover Mrs.
J. M. Brown and Miss Evans, the two ladies whom more than an hour
previous I had, as related, consigned to the care of Sixth Officer
Moody on Deck A, where he, as previously described, blocked my purpose
of accompanying these ladies and personally assisting them into the
boat. They showed no signs of perturbation whatever as they conversed
quietly with me. Mrs. Brown quickly related how they became separated,
in the crowd, from her sisters, Mrs. Appleton and Mrs. Cornell. Alas!
that they had not remained on the same port side of the ship, or moved
forward on Deck A, or the Boat Deck! Instead, they had wandered in
some unexplained way to the very furthest point diagonally from where
they were at first. At the time of introduction I had not caught Miss
Evans’ name, and when we were here together at this critical moment I
thought it important to ask, and she gave me her name. Meantime the
crew were working on the roof of the officers’ quarters to cut loose
one of the Engelhardt boats. All this took place more quickly than it
takes to write it.

Meantime, I will describe what was going on at the quarter where I
left Lightoller loading the last boat on the port side. The
information was obtained personally from him, in answer to my careful
questioning during the next few days on board the _Carpathia_, when I
made notes thereof, which were confirmed again the next week in
Washington, where we were both summoned before the Senate
Investigating Committee. “Men from the steerage,” he said, “rushed the
boat.” “Rush” is the word he used, meaning they got in without his
permission. He drew his pistol and ordered them out, threatening to
shoot if they attempted to enter the boat again. I presume it was in
consequence of this incident that the crew established the line which
I encountered, presently referred to, which blocked the men passengers
from approaching the last boat loaded on the port side forward, where
we had been, and the last one that was safely loaded from the ship.

During this very short interval I was on the starboard side, as
described, next to the rail, with Mrs. Brown and Miss Evans, when I
heard a member of the crew, coming from the quarter where the last
boat was loaded, say that there was room for more ladies in it. I
immediately seized each lady by the arm, and, with Miss Evans on my
right and Mrs. Brown on my left, hurried, with three other ladies
following us, toward the port side; but I had not proceeded half-way,
and near amidship, when I was stopped by the aforesaid line of the
crew barring my progress, and one of the officers told me that only
the women could pass.

The story of what now happened to Mrs. Brown and Miss Evans after they
left me must be told by Mrs. Brown, as related to me by herself when I
rejoined her next on board the _Carpathia_. Miss Evans led the way,
she said, as they neared the rail where what proved to be the last
lifeboat was being loaded, but in a spirit of most heroic
self-sacrifice Miss Evans insisted upon Mrs. Brown’s taking precedence
in being assisted aboard the boat. “You go first,” she said. “You are
married and have children.” But when Miss Evans attempted to follow
after, she was unable to do so for some unknown cause. The women in
the boat were not able, it would appear, to pull Miss Evans in. It was
necessary for her first to clear the four feet high ship’s gunwale,
and no man or member of the crew was at this particular point to lift
her over. I have questioned Mr. Lightoller several times about this,
but he has not been able to give any satisfactory explanation and
cannot understand it, for when he gave orders to lower away, there was
no woman in sight. I have further questioned him as to whether there
was an interval between the ship’s rail and the lifeboat he was
loading, but he says, “No,” for until the very last boat he stood, as
has already been described, with one foot planted on the ship’s
gunwale and the other in the lifeboat. I had thought that the list of
the ship might have caused too much of an interval for him to have
done this. Perhaps what I have read in a letter of Mrs. Brown may
furnish some reason why Miss Evans’ efforts to board the lifeboat, in
which there was plenty of room for her, were unavailing. “Never mind,”
she is said to have called out, “I will go on a later boat.” She then
ran away and was not seen again; but there was no later boat, and it
would seem that after a momentary impulse, being disappointed and
being unable to get into the boat, she went aft on the port side, and
no one saw her again. Neither the second officer nor I saw any women
on the deck during the interval thereafter of fifteen or twenty
minutes before the great ship sank.

An inspection of the American and British Reports shows that all women
and children of the first cabin were saved except five. Out of the one
hundred and fifty these were the five lost: (1) Miss Evans; (2) Mrs.
Straus; (3) Mrs. H. J. Allison, of Montreal; (4) her daughter, Miss
Allison, and (5) Miss A. E. Isham, of New York. The first two have
already been accounted for. Mrs. Allison and Miss Allison could have
been saved had they not chosen to remain on the ship. They refused to
enter the lifeboat unless Mr. Allison was allowed to go with them.
This statement was made in my presence by Mrs. H. A. Cassebeer, of New
York, who related it to Mrs. Allison’s brother, Mr. G. F. Johnston,
and myself. Those of us who survived among the first cabin passengers
will remember this beautiful Mrs. Allison, and will be glad to know of
the heroic mould in which she was cast, as exemplified by her fate,
which was similar to that of another, Mrs. Straus, who has been
memorialized the world over. The fifth lady lost was Miss A. E. Isham,
and she is the only one of whom no survivor, so far as I can learn, is
able to give any information whatever as to where she was or what she
did on that fateful Sunday night. Her relatives, learning that her
stateroom, No. C, 49, adjoined mine, wrote me in the hope that I might
be able to furnish some information to their sorrowing hearts about
her last hours on the shipwrecked _Titanic_. It was with much regret
that I replied that I had not seen my neighbor at any time, and, not
having the pleasure of her acquaintance, identification was
impossible. I was, however, glad to be able to assure her family of
one point, viz., that she did not meet with the horrible fate which
they feared, in being locked in her stateroom and drowned. I had
revisited my stateroom twice after being aroused by the collision, and
am sure that she was fully warned of what had happened, and after she
left her stateroom it was locked behind her, as was mine.

  [Illustration: BEDROOM OF PARLOR SUITE]

  [Illustration: SUITE BEDROOM]

The simple statement of fact that all of the first cabin women were
sent off in the lifeboats and saved, except five--three of whom met
heroic death through choice and two by some mischance--is in itself
the most sublime tribute that could be paid to the self-sacrifice and
the gallantry of the first cabin men, including all the grand heroes
who sank with the ship and those of us who survived their fate. All
authentic testimony of both first and second cabin passengers is also
in evidence that the Captain’s order for women and children to be
loaded first met with the unanimous approval of us all, and in every
instance was carried out both in letter and in spirit. In Second
Officer Lightoller’s testimony before the Senate Committee, when asked
whether the Captain’s order was a rule of the sea, he answered that it
was “the rule of human nature.” There is no doubt in my mind that the
men at that quarter where we were would have adopted the same rule
spontaneously whether ordered by the Captain, or not. Speaking from my
own personal observation, which by comparison with that of the second
officer I find in accord with his, all six boat loads, including the
last, departed with women and children only, with not a man passenger
except Major Peuchen, whose services were enlisted to replace the lack
of crew. I may say further that with the single exception of Colonel
Astor’s plea for the protection of his wife, in delicate condition,
there was not one who made a move or a suggestion to enter a boat.

While the light was dim on the decks it was always sufficient for me
to recognize anyone with whom I was acquainted, and I am happy in
being able to record the names of those I know beyond any doubt
whatever, as with me in these last terrible scenes when Lightoller’s
boats were being lowered and after the last lifeboat had left the
ship. The names of these were: James Clinch Smith, Colonel John Jacob
Astor, Mr. John B. Thayer and Mr. George D. Widener. So far as I know,
and my research has been exhaustive, I am the sole surviving passenger
who was with or assisted Lightoller in the loading of the last boats.
When I first saw and realized that every lifeboat had left the ship,
the sensation felt was not an agreeable one. No thought of fear
entered my head, but I experienced a feeling which others may recall
when holding the breath in the face of some frightful emergency and
when “vox faucibus hæsit,” as frequently happened to the old Trojan
hero of our school days. This was the nearest approach to fear, if it
can be so characterized, that is discernible in an analysis of my
actions or feelings while in the midst of the many dangers which beset
me during that night of terror. Though still worse and seemingly many
hopeless conditions soon prevailed, and unexpected ones, too, when I
felt that “any moment might be my last,” I had no time to contemplate
danger when there was continuous need of quick thought, action and
composure withal. Had I become rattled for a moment, or in the
slightest degree been undecided during the several emergencies
presently cited, I am certain that I never should have lived to tell
the tale of my miraculous escape. For it is eminently fitting, in
gratitude to my Maker, that I should make the acknowledgment that I
know of no recorded instance of Providential deliverance more directly
attributable to cause and effect, illustrating the efficacy of prayer
and how “God helps those who help themselves.” I should have only
courted the fate of many hundreds of others had I supinely made no
effort to supplement my prayers with all the strength and power which
He has granted to me. While I said to myself, “Good-bye to all at
home,” I hoped and prayed for escape. My mind was nerved to do the
duty of the moment, and my muscles seemed to be hardened in
preparation for any struggle that might come. When I learned that
there was still another boat, the Engelhardt, on the roof of the
officers’ quarters, I felt encouraged with the thought that here was a
chance of getting away before the ship sank; but what was one boat
among so many eager to board her?

During my short absence in conducting the ladies to a position of
safety, Mr. Thayer and Mr. Widener had disappeared, but I know not
whither. Mr. Widener’s son, Harry, was probably with them, but Mr.
Thayer supposed that his young son, Jack, had left the ship in the
same boat with his mother. Messrs. Thayer and Widener must have gone
toward the stern during the short interval of my absence. No one at
this point had jumped into the sea. If there had been any, both Clinch
Smith and I would have known it. After the water struck the bridge
forward there were many who rushed aft, climbed over the rail and
jumped, but I never saw one of them.

I was now working with the crew at the davits on the starboard side
forward, adjusting them, ready for lowering the Engelhardt boat from
the roof of the officers’ house to the Boat Deck below. Some one of
the crew on the roof, where it was, sang out, “Has any passenger a
knife?” I took mine out of my pocket and tossed it to him, saying,
“Here is a small penknife, if that will do any good.” It appeared to
me then that there was more trouble than there ought to have been in
removing the canvas cover and cutting the boat loose, and that some
means should have been available for doing this without any delay.
Meantime, four or five long oars were placed aslant against the walls
of the officers’ house to break the fall of the boat, which was pushed
from the roof and slipped with a crash down on the Boat Deck, smashing
several of the oars. Clinch Smith and I scurried out of the way and
stood leaning with our backs against the rail, watching this procedure
and feeling anxious lest the boat might have been stove in, or
otherwise injured so as to cause her to leak in the water. The account
of the junior Marconi operator, Harold S. Bride, supplements mine. “I
saw a collapsible boat,” he said, “near a funnel, and went over to it.
Twelve men were trying to boost it down to the Boat Deck. They were
having an awful time. It was the last boat left. I looked at it
longingly a few minutes; then I gave a hand and over she went.”

About this time I recall that an officer on the roof of the house
called down to the crew at this quarter, “Are there any seamen down
there among you?” “Aye, aye, sir,” was the response, and quite a
number left the Boat Deck to assist in what I supposed to have been
the cutting loose of the other Engelhardt boat up there on the roof.
Again I heard an inquiry for another knife. I thought I recognized the
voice of the second officer working up there with the crew. Lightoller
has told me, and has written me as well, that “boat A on the starboard
side did not leave the ship,”[2] while “B was thrown down to the Boat
Deck,” and was the one on which he and I eventually climbed. The crew
had thrown the Engelhardt boat to the deck, but I did not understand
why they were so long about launching it, unless they were waiting to
cut the other one loose and launch them both at the same time. Two
young men of the crew, nice looking, dressed in white, one tall and
the other smaller, were coolly debating as to whether the compartments
would hold the ship afloat. They were standing with their backs to the
rail looking on at the rest of the crew, and I recall asking one of
them why he did not assist.

    [2] With the evidence on the subject presented later he
    recognizes that Boat A floated away and was afterwards utilized.

At this time there were other passengers around, but Clinch Smith was
the only one associated with me here to the last. It was about this
time, fifteen minutes after the launching of the last lifeboat on the
port side, that I heard a noise that spread consternation among us
all. This was no less than the water striking the bridge and gurgling
up the hatchway forward. It seemed momentarily as if it would reach
the Boat Deck. It appeared as if it would take the crew a long time to
turn the Engelhardt boat right side up and lift it over the rail, and
there were so many ready to board her that she would have been
swamped. Probably taking these points into consideration, Clinch Smith
made the proposition that we should leave and go toward the stern,
still on the starboard side, so he started and I followed immediately
after him. We had taken but a few steps in the direction indicated
when there arose before us from the decks below, a mass of humanity
several lines deep, covering the Boat Deck, facing us, and completely
blocking our passage toward the stern.

There were women in the crowd, as well as men, and they seemed to be
steerage passengers who had just come up from the decks below.
Instantly, when they saw us and the water on the deck chasing us from
behind, they turned in the opposite direction towards the stern. This
brought them at that point plumb against the iron fence and railing
which divide the first and second cabin passengers. Even among these
people there was no hysterical cry, or evidence of panic, but oh, the
agony of it! Clinch Smith and I instantly saw that we could make no
progress ahead, and with the water following us behind over the deck,
we were in a desperate place. I can never forget the exact point on
the ship where he and I were located, viz., at the opening of the
angle made by the walls of the officers’ house and only a short
distance abaft the _Titanic’s_ forward “expansion joint.” Clinch Smith
was immediately on my left, nearer the apex of the angle, and our
backs were turned toward the ship’s rail and the sea. Looking up
toward the roof of the officers’ house I saw a man to the right of me
and above lying on his stomach on the roof, with his legs dangling
over. Clinch Smith jumped to reach this roof, and I promptly followed.
The efforts of both of us failed. I was loaded down with heavy
long-skirted overcoat and Norfolk coat beneath, with clumsy
life-preserver over all, which made my jump fall short. As I came
down, the water struck my right side. I crouched down into it
preparatory to jumping with it, and rose as if on the crest of a wave
on the seashore. This expedient brought the attainment of the
object I had in view. I was able to reach the roof and the iron
railing that is along the edge of it, and pulled myself over on top of
the officers’ house on my stomach near the base of the second funnel.
The feat which I instinctively accomplished was the simple one,
familiar to all bathers in the surf at the seashore. I had no time to
advise Clinch Smith to adopt it. To my utter dismay, a hasty glance to
my left and right showed that he had not followed my example, and that
the wave, if I may call it such, which had mounted me to the roof, had
completely covered him, as well as all people on both sides of me,
including the man I had first seen athwart the roof.

  [Illustration: JAMES CLINCH SMITH]

I was thus parted forever from my friend, Clinch Smith, with whom I
had agreed to remain to the last struggle. I felt almost a pang of
responsibility for our separation; but he was not in sight and there
was no chance of rendering assistance. His ultimate fate is a matter
of conjecture. Hemmed in by the mass of people toward the stern, and
cornered in the locality previously described, it seems certain that
as the ship keeled over and sank, his body was caught in the angle or
in the coils of rope and other appurtenances on the deck and borne
down to the depths below. There could not be a braver man than James
Clinch Smith. He was the embodiment of coolness and courage during
the whole period of the disaster. While in constant touch and
communication with him at the various points on the ship when we were
together on this tragic night, he never showed the slightest sign of
fear, but manifested the same quiet imperturbable manner so well known
to all of his friends, who join with his family in mourning his loss.
His conduct should be an inspiration to us all, and an appropriate
epitaph to his memory taken from the words of Christ would be:
“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for
his friend.”




CHAPTER III

THE FOUNDERING OF THE “TITANIC”

    “There is sorrow on the sea; it cannot be quiet.”--Jeremiah
    49:23.


BEFORE I resume the story of my personal escape it is pertinent that I
should, at this juncture, discuss certain points wherein the
statements of survivors are strangely at variance.

_First:_ Was there an explosion of the ship’s boilers?

I am of opinion that there was none, because I should have been
conscious of it. When aboard ship I should have heard it and felt it,
but I did not. As my senses were on the lookout for every danger, I
cannot conceive it possible that an explosion occurred without my
being made aware of it. When I went down holding on to the ship and
was under water, I heard no sound indicating anything of the sort, and
when I came to the surface there was no ship in sight. Furthermore,
there was no perceptible wave which such a disturbance would have
created.

The two ranking surviving officers of the _Titanic_, viz., Second
Officer Lightoller and Third Officer Pitman, with whom I had a
discussion on this and other points in almost daily conversation in my
cabin on the _Carpathia_, agreed with me that there was no explosion
of the boilers. The second officer and myself had various similar
experiences, and, as will be noticed in the course of this narrative,
we were very near together during all the perils of that awful night.
The only material difference worth noting was the manner in which each
parted company with the ship, and finally reached the bottom-up
Engelhardt boat on top of which we made our escape. According to his
testimony before the Senate Committee, he stood on the roof of the
officers’ quarters in front of the first funnel, facing forward, and
as the ship dived, he dived also, while I held on to the iron railing
on the same roof, near the second funnel, as has been described, and
as the ship sank I was pulled down with it. The distance between us on
the ship was then about fifteen yards.

  [Illustration: BOILERS OF THE TITANIC ARRANGED IN MESSRS.
      HARLAND & WOLFF’S WORKS]

There are so many newspaper and other published reports citing the
statements of certain survivors as authority for this story of an
explosion of the boilers that the reading world generally has been
made to believe it. Among the names of passengers whose alleged
statements (I have received letters repudiating some of these
interviews) are thus given credence, I have read those of Miss
Cornelia Andrews, of Hudson, N. Y.; Mrs. W. E. Carter, of
Philadelphia, Pa.; Mr. John Pillsbury Snyder, of Minneapolis, Minn.;
Miss Minahan, of Fond du Lac, Wis., and Lady Duff Gordon, of England,
all of whom, according to the newspaper reports, describe their
position in the lifeboats around the ship and how they heard, or saw,
the “ship blow up,” or “the boilers explode” with one or two
explosions just before the ship sank out of their sight. On the other
hand, Mr. Hugh Woolner told me on the _Carpathia_ that from his
position in the lifeboat, which he claims was the nearest one to the
_Titanic_ when she sank some seventy-five yards away, there was a
terrific noise on the ship, as she slanted towards the head before the
final plunge, which sounded like the crashing of millions of dishes of
crockery. Woolner and I when on board the _Carpathia_, as presently
described, had our cabin together, where we were visited by Officers
Lightoller and Pitman. This was one of the points we discussed
together, and the conclusion was at once reached as to the cause of
this tremendous crash. Since then, Lightoller has been subjected to
rigid examination before this country’s and England’s Investigating
Committees, and has been a party to discussions with experts,
including the designers and builders of the _Titanic_. His conclusion
expressed on the _Carpathia_ is now strengthened, and he says that
there was no explosion of the boilers and that the great noise which
was mistaken for it was due to “the boilers leaving their beds” on E
Deck when the ship was aslant and, with their great weight, sliding
along the deck, crushing and tearing through the doomed vessel forward
toward the bow. Third Officer Pitman also gave his testimony on this,
as well as the next point considered. Before the Senate Committee he
said: “Then she turned right on end and made a big plunge forward. The
_Titanic_ did not break asunder. I heard reports like big guns in the
distance. I assumed the great bulkheads had gone to pieces.”
Cabin-steward Samuel Rule said: “I think the noise we heard was that
of the boilers and engines breaking away from their seatings and
falling down through the forward bulkhead. At the time it occurred,
the ship was standing nearly upright in the water.”

The peculiar way in which the _Titanic_ is described as hesitating and
assuming a vertical position before her final dive to the depths below
can be accounted for only on this hypothesis of the sliding of the
boilers from their beds. A second cabin passenger, Mr. Lawrence
Beesley, a Cambridge University man, has written an excellent book
about the _Titanic_ disaster, dwelling especially upon the lessons to
be learned from it. His account given to the newspapers also contains
the most graphic description from the viewpoint of those in the
lifeboats, telling how the great ship looked before her final plunge.
He “was a mile or two miles away,” he writes, “when the oarsmen lay on
their oars and all in the lifeboat were motionless as we watched the
ship in absolute silence--save some who would not look and buried
their heads on each others’ shoulders.... As we gazed awe-struck, she
tilted slightly up, revolving apparently about a centre of gravity
just astern of amidships until she attained a vertical upright
position, and there she remained--motionless! As she swung up, her
lights, which had shown without a flicker all night, went out
suddenly, then came on again for a single flash and then went out
altogether; and as they did so there came a noise which many people,
wrongly, I think, have described as an explosion. It has always seemed
to me that it was nothing but the engines and machinery coming loose
from their place and bearings and falling through the compartments,
smashing everything in their way. It was partly a roar, partly a
groan, partly a rattle and partly a smash, and it was not a sudden
roar as an explosion would be; it went on successively for some
seconds, possibly fifteen or twenty, as the heavy machinery dropped
down to the bottom (now the bows) of the ship; I suppose it fell
through the end and sank first before the ship. (For evidence of
shattered timbers, see Hagan’s testimony, page 85.) But it was a noise
no one had heard before and no one wishes to hear again. It was
stupefying, stupendous, as it came to us along the water. It was as if
all the heavy things one could think of had been thrown downstairs
from the top of a house, smashing each other, and the stairs and
everything in the way.

“Several apparently authentic accounts have been given in which
definite stories of explosions have been related--in some cases even
with wreckage blown up and the ship broken in two; but I think such
accounts will not stand close analysis. In the first place, the fires
had been withdrawn and the steam allowed to escape some time before
she sank, and the possibility from explosion from this cause seems
very remote.”

_Second:_ Did the ship break in two?

I was on the _Carpathia_ when I first heard any one make reference to
this point. The seventeen-year-old son of Mr. John B. Thayer, “Jack”
Thayer, Jr., and his young friend from Philadelphia, R. N. Williams,
Jr., the tennis expert, in describing their experiences to me were
positive that they saw the ship split in two. This was from their
position in the water on the starboard quarter. “Jack” Thayer gave
this same description to an artist, who reproduced it in an
illustration in the New York _Herald_, which many of us have seen.
Some of the passengers, whose names I have just mentioned, are also
cited by the newspapers as authority for the statements that the ship
“broke in two,” that she “buckled amidships,” that she “was literally
torn to pieces,” etc. On the other hand, there is much testimony
available which is at variance with this much-advertised sensational
newspaper account. Summing up its investigation of this point the
Senate Committee’s Report reads: “There have been many conflicting
statements as to whether the ship broke in two, but the preponderance
of evidence is to the effect that she assumed an almost end-on
position and sank intact.” This was as Lightoller testified before the
Committee, that the _Titanic’s_ decks were “absolutely intact” when
she went down. On this point, too, Beesley is in accord, from his
viewpoint in the lifeboat some distance away out of danger, whence,
more composedly than others, he could see the last of the ill-fated
ship as the men lay on their oars watching until she disappeared. “No
phenomenon,” he continues, “like that pictured in some American and
English papers occurred--that of the ship breaking in two, and the
two ends being raised above the surface. When the noise was over, the
_Titanic_ was still upright like a column; we could see her now only
as the stern and some 150 feet of her stood outlined against the
star-specked sky, looming black in the darkness, and in this position
she continued for some minutes--I think as much as five minutes--but
it may have been less. Then, as sinking back a little at the stern, I
thought she slid slowly forwards through the water and dived
slantingly down.”

  [Illustration: THOMAS ANDREWS, Jr.
    (Designer of the Titanic and Managing Director of Messrs.
        Harland & Wolff, Ltd.)]

  [Illustration: JOSEPH BELL
    (Chief Engineer)]

From my personal viewpoint I also know that the _Titanic’s_ decks were
intact at the time she sank, and when I sank with her, there was over
seven-sixteenths of the ship already under water, and there was no
indication then of any impending break of the deck or ship. I recently
visited the sister ship of the _Titanic_, viz., the _Olympic_, at her
dock in New York harbor. This was for the purpose of still further
familiarizing myself with the corresponding localities which were the
scene of my personal experiences on the _Titanic_, and which are
referred to in this narrative. The only difference in the deck plan of
the sister ship which I noted, and which the courteous officers of the
_Olympic_ mentioned, is that the latter ship’s Deck A is not
glass-enclosed like the _Titanic’s_; but one of the principal points
of discovery that I made during my investigation concerns this
matter of the alleged breaking in two of this magnificent ship. The
White Star Line officers pointed out to me what they called the ship’s
“forward expansion joint,” and they claimed the _Titanic_ was so
constructed that she must have split in two at this point, if she did
so at all. I was interested in observing that this “expansion joint”
was less than twelve feet forward from that point on the Boat Deck
whence I jumped, as described (to the iron railing on the roof of the
officers’ quarters). It is indicated by a black streak of
leather-covering running transversely across the deck and then up the
vertical white wall of the officers’ house. This “joint” extends,
however, only through the Boat Deck and Decks A and B, which are
superimposed on Deck C. If there was any splitting in two, it seems to
me also that this superstructure, weakly joined, would have been the
part to split; but it certainly did not. It was only a few seconds
before the time of the alleged break that I stepped across this
dividing line of the two sections and went down with the after section
about twelve feet from this “expansion joint.”

One explanation which I offer of what must be a delusion on the part
of the advocates of the “break-in-two” theory is that when the
forward funnel fell, as hereafter described, it may have looked as if
the ship itself was splitting in two, particularly to the young men
who are cited as authority.

_Third:_ Did either the Captain or the First Officer shoot himself?

Notwithstanding all the current rumors and newspaper statements
answering this question affirmatively, I have been unable to find any
passenger or member of the crew cited as authority for the statement
that either Captain Smith or First Officer Murdoch did anything of the
sort. On the contrary, so far as relates to Captain Smith, there are
several witnesses, including Harold S. Bride, the junior Marconi
operator, who saw him at the last on the bridge of his ship, and
later, when sinking and struggling in the water. Neither can I
discover any authentic testimony about First Officer Murdoch’s
shooting himself. On the contrary, I find fully sufficient evidence
that he did not. He was a brave and efficient officer and no
sufficient motive for self-destruction can be advanced. He performed
his full duty under difficult circumstances, and was entitled to
praise and honor. During the last fifteen minutes before the ship
sank, I was located at that quarter forward on the Boat Deck,
starboard side, where Murdoch was in command and where the crew under
him were engaged in the vain attempt of launching the Engelhardt
boat. The report of a pistol shot during this interval ringing in my
ears within a few feet of me would certainly have attracted my
attention, and later, when I moved astern, the distance between us was
not so great as to prevent my hearing it. The “big wave” or “giant
wave,” described by Harold Bride, swept away Murdoch and the crew from
the Boat Deck first before it struck me, and when I rose with it to
the roof of the officers’ house, Bride’s reported testimony fits in
with mine so far as relates to time, place, and circumstance, and I
quote his words as follows: “About ten minutes before the ship sank,
Captain Smith gave word for every man to look to his own safety. I
sprang to aid the men struggling to launch the life raft (Engelhardt
boat), and we had succeeded in getting it to the edge of the ship when
a giant wave carried it away.” Lightoller also told me on board the
_Carpathia_ that he saw Murdoch when he was engulfed by the water and
that if before this a pistol had been fired within the short distance
that separated them, he also is confident that he would have heard it.

  [Illustration: THE LAST PHOTOGRAPH OF THE TITANIC’S COMMANDER
      AND THREE OFFICERS
    (Reading from left to right:--Captain E. J. Smith, Dr. W. F.
        O’Loughlin, First Officer W. M. Murdoch, and Purser H. W.
        McElroy)]

_Fourth:_ On which side did the ship list?

The testimony on this point, which at first blush appears conflicting,
proves on investigation not at all so, but just what was to be
expected from the mechanical construction of the ship. We find the
most authoritative testimony in evidence that the _Titanic_ listed on
the starboard side, and again, on equally authoritative testimony,
that she listed on the port side. Quartermaster Hitchens, who was at
the wheel when the iceberg struck the ship, testified on this point
before the Senate Committee as follows: “The Captain came back to the
wheel house and looked at the commutator (clinometer) in front of the
compass, which is a little instrument like a clock to tell you how the
ship is listing.” The ship had a list of five degrees to the starboard
about five or ten minutes after the impact. Mr. Karl Behr, the
well-known tennis player, interviewed by the New York _Tribune_ is
quoted as saying: “We had just retired when the collision came. I
pulled on my clothes and went down the deck to the Beckwith cabin and,
after I had roused them, I noted that the ship listed to the
starboard, and that was the first thing that made me think that we
were in for serious trouble.” On the other hand, the first time I
noticed this list was, as already described in my narrative, when I
met Clinch Smith in the companionway and we saw a slight list to port,
which gave us the first warning of how serious the accident was. The
next and last time, as has also been described, was when Second
Officer Lightoller ordered all passengers to the starboard side
because of the very palpable list to port, when the great ship
suddenly appeared to be about to topple over. Lightoller also
corroborates the statement as to this list on the port side. Other
witnesses might be quoted, some of whom testify to the starboard list,
and others to the one to port. The conclusion, therefore, is reached
that the _Titanic_ listed at one time to starboard and at another time
to port. This is as it should be because of the transverse water-tight
compartments which made the water, immediately after the compact, rush
from the starboard quarter to the port, and then back again, keeping
the ship balancing on her keel until she finally sank. If she had been
constructed otherwise, with longitudinal compartments only, it is
evident that after the impact on the starboard side, the _Titanic_
would have listed only to the starboard side, and after a very much
shorter interval would have careened over on that quarter, and a much
smaller proportion of lives would have been saved.




CHAPTER IV

STRUGGLING IN THE WATER FOR LIFE

    “Out of the deep have I called unto Thee, O Lord.”--Ps. 130:1.


I NOW resume the narrative description of my miraculous escape, and it
is with considerable diffidence that I do so, for the personal
equation monopolizes more attention than may be pleasing to my readers
who are not relatives or intimate friends.

As may be noticed in Chapter II, it was Clinch Smith’s suggestion and
on his initiative that we left that point on the starboard side of the
Boat Deck where the crew, under Chief Officer Wilde and First Officer
Murdoch, were in vain trying to launch the Engelhardt boat B which had
been thrown down from the roof of the officers’ quarters forward of
the first funnel. I say “Boat B” because I have the information to
that effect in a letter from Second Officer Lightoller. Confirmation
of this statement I also find in the reported interview of a Saloon
Steward, Thomas Whiteley, in the New York _Tribune_ the day after the
_Carpathia’s_ arrival. An analysis of his statement shows that Boat A
became entangled and was abandoned, while he saw the other, bottom up
and filled with people. It was on this boat that he also eventually
climbed and was saved with the rest of us. Clinch Smith and I got away
from this point just before the water reached it and drowned Chief
Officer Wilde and First Officer Murdoch, and others who were not
successful in effecting a lodgment on the boat as it was swept off the
deck. This moment was the first fateful crisis of the many that
immediately followed. As bearing upon it I quote the reported
statement of Harold S. Bride, the junior Marconi operator. His account
also helps to determine the fate of Captain Smith. He says: “Then came
the Captain’s voice [from the bridge to the Marconi operators], ‘Men,
you have done your full duty. You can do no more. Abandon your cabin.
Now, it is every man for himself.’” “Phillips continued to work,” he
says, “for about ten minutes or about fifteen minutes after the
Captain had released him. The water was then coming into our cabin....
I went to the place where I had seen the collapsible boat on the Boat
Deck and to my surprise I saw the boat, and the men still trying to
push it off. They could not do it. I went up to them and was just
lending a hand when a large wave came awash of the deck. The big wave
carried the boat off. I had hold of an oarlock and I went off with it.
The next I knew I was in the boat. But that was not all. I was in the
boat and the boat was upside down and I was under it.... How I got out
from under the boat I do not know, but I felt a breath at last.”

From this it appears evident that, so far as Clinch Smith is
concerned, it would have been better to have stayed by this Engelhardt
boat to the last, for here he had a chance of escape like Bride and
others of the crew who clung to it, but which I only reached again
after an incredibly long swim under water. The next crisis, which was
the fatal one to Clinch Smith and to the great mass of people that
suddenly arose before us as I followed him astern, has already been
described. The simple expedient of jumping with the “big wave” as
demonstrated above carried me to safety, away from a dangerous
position to the highest part of the ship; but I was the only one who
adopted it successfully. The force of the wave that struck Clinch
Smith and the others undoubtedly knocked most of them there
unconscious against the walls of the officers’ quarters and other
appurtenances of the ship on the Boat Deck. As the ship keeled over
forward, I believe that their bodies were caught in the angles of
this deck, or entangled in the ropes, and in these other
appurtenances thereon, and sank with the ship.

My holding on to the iron railing just when I did prevented my being
knocked unconscious. I pulled myself over on the roof on my stomach,
but before I could get to my feet I was in a whirlpool of water,
swirling round and round, as I still tried to cling to the railing as
the ship plunged to the depths below. Down, down, I went: it seemed a
great distance. There was a very noticeable pressure upon my ears,
though there must have been plenty of air that the ship carried down
with it. When under water I retained, as it appears, a sense of
general direction, and, as soon as I could do so, swam away from the
starboard side of the ship, as I knew my life depended upon it. I swam
with all my strength, and I seemed endowed with an extra supply for
the occasion. I was incited to desperate effort by the thought of
boiling water, or steam, from the expected explosion of the ship’s
boilers, and that I would be scalded to death, like the sailors of
whom I had read in the account of the British battle-ship _Victoria_
sunk in collision with the _Camperdown_ in the Mediterranean in 1893.
Second Officer Lightoller told me he also had the same idea, and that
if the fires had not been drawn the boilers would explode and the
water become boiling hot. As a consequence, the plunge in the icy
water produced no sense of coldness whatever, and I had no thought of
cold until later on when I climbed on the bottom of the upturned boat.
My being drawn down by suction to a greater depth was undoubtedly
checked to some degree by the life-preserver which I wore, but it is
to the buoyancy of the water, caused by the volume of air rising from
the sinking ship, that I attributed the assistance which enabled me to
strike out and swim faster and further under water than I ever did
before. I held my breath for what seemed an interminable time until I
could scarcely stand it any longer, but I congratulated myself then
and there that not one drop of sea-water was allowed to enter my
mouth. With renewed determination and set jaws, I swam on. Just at the
moment I thought that for lack of breath I would have to give in, I
seemed to have been provided with a second wind, and it was just then
that the thought that this was my last moment came upon me. I wanted
to convey the news of how I died to my loved ones at home. As I swam
beneath the surface of the ocean, I prayed that my spirit could go to
them and say, “Good-bye, until we meet again in heaven.” In this
connection, the thought was in my mind of a well authenticated
experience of mental telepathy that occurred to a member of my wife’s
family. Here in my case was a similar experience of a shipwrecked
loved one, and I thought if I prayed hard enough that this, my last
wish to communicate with my wife and daughter, might be granted.

To what extent my prayer was answered let Mrs. Gracie describe in her
own written words, as follows: “I was in my room at my sister’s house,
where I was visiting, in New York. After retiring, being unable to
rest I questioned myself several times over, wondering what it was
that prevented the customary long and peaceful slumber, lately
enjoyed. ‘What is the matter?’ I uttered. A voice in reply seemed to
say, ‘On your knees and pray.’ Instantly, I literally obeyed with my
prayer book in my hand, which by chance opened at the prayer ‘For
those at Sea.’ The thought then flashed through my mind, ‘Archie is
praying for me.’ I continued wide awake until a little before five
o’clock a. m., by the watch that lay beside me. About 7 a. m. I dozed
a while and then got up to dress for breakfast. At 8 o’clock my
sister, Mrs. Dalliba Dutton, came softly to the door, newspaper in
hand, to gently break the tragic news that the _Titanic_ had sunk, and
showed me the list of only twenty names saved, headed with ‘_Colonel_
Archibald Butt’; but my husband’s name was not included. My head sank
in her protecting arms as I murmured helplessly, ‘He is all I have in
the whole world.’ I could only pray for strength, and later in the
day, believing myself a widow, I wrote to my daughter, who was in the
care of our housekeeper and servants in our Washington home, ‘Cannot
you see your father in his tenderness for women and children, helping
them all, and then going down with the ship? If he has gone, I will
not live long, but I would not have him take a boat.’”

But let me now resume my personal narrative. With this second wind
under water there came to me a new lease of life and strength, until
finally I noticed by the increase of light that I was drawing near to
the surface. Though it was not daylight, the clear star-lit night made
a noticeable difference in the degree of light immediately below the
surface of the water. As I was rising, I came in contact with
ascending wreckage, but the only thing I struck of material size was a
small plank, which I tucked under my right arm. This circumstance
brought with it the reflection that it was advisable for me to secure
what best I could to keep me afloat on the surface until succor
arrived. When my head at last rose above the water, I detected a piece
of wreckage like a wooden crate, and I eagerly seized it as a nucleus
of the projected raft to be constructed from what flotsam and jetsam I
might collect. Looking about me, I could see no _Titanic_ in sight.
She had entirely disappeared beneath the calm surface of the ocean and
without a sign of any wave. That the sea had swallowed her up with all
her precious belongings was indicated by the slight sound of a gulp
behind me as the water closed over her. The length of time that I was
under water can be estimated by the fact that I sank with her, and
when I came up there was no ship in sight. The accounts of others as
to the length of time it took the _Titanic_ to sink afford the best
measure of the interval I was below the surface.

What impressed me at the time that my eyes beheld the horrible scene
was a thin light-gray smoky vapor that hung like a pall a few feet
above the broad expanse of sea that was covered with a mass of tangled
wreckage. That it was a tangible vapor, and not a product of
imagination, I feel well assured. It may have been caused by smoke or
steam rising to the surface around the area where the ship had sunk.
At any rate it produced a supernatural effect, and the pictures I had
seen by Dante and the description I had read in my Virgil of the
infernal regions, of Charon, and the River Lethe, were then uppermost
in my thoughts. Add to this, within the area described, which was as
far as my eyes could reach, there arose to the sky the most horrible
sounds ever heard by mortal man except by those of us who survived
this terrible tragedy. The agonizing cries of death from over a
thousand throats, the wails and groans of the suffering, the shrieks
of the terror-stricken and the awful gaspings for breath of those in
the last throes of drowning, none of us will ever forget to our dying
day. “Help! Help! Boat ahoy! Boat ahoy!” and “My God! My God!” were
the heart-rending cries and shrieks of men, which floated to us over
the surface of the dark waters continuously for the next hour, but as
time went on, growing weaker and weaker until they died out entirely.

As I clung to my wreckage, I noticed just in front of me, a few yards
away, a group of three bodies with heads in the water, face downwards,
and just behind me to my right another body, all giving unmistakable
evidence of being drowned. Possibly these had gone down to the depths
as I had done, but did not have the lung power that I had to hold the
breath and swim under water, an accomplishment which I had practised
from my school days. There was no one alive or struggling in the water
or calling for aid within the immediate vicinity of where I arose to
the surface. I threw my right leg over the wooden crate in an attempt
to straddle and balance myself on top of it, but I turned over in a
somersault with it under water, and up to the surface again. What may
be of interest is the thought that then occurred to me of the accounts
and pictures of a wreck, indelibly impressed upon my memory when a
boy, because of my acquaintance with some of the victims, of a
frightful disaster of that day, namely the wreck of the _Ville du
Havre_ in the English Channel in 1873, and I had in mind Mrs.
Bulkley’s description, and the picture of her clinging to some
wreckage as a rescue boat caught sight of her, bringing the comforting
words over the water, “We are English sailors coming to save you.” I
looked around, praying for a similar interposition of Fate, but I knew
the thought of a rescuing boat was a vain one--for had not all the
lifeboats, loaded with women and children, departed from the ship
fifteen or twenty minutes before I sank with it? And had I not seen
the procession of them on the port side fading away from our sight?

But my prayerful thought and hope were answered in an unexpected
direction. I espied to my left, a considerable distance away, a better
vehicle of escape than the wooden crate on which my attempt to ride
had resulted in a second ducking. What I saw was no less than the
same Engelhardt, or “surf-boat,” to whose launching I had lent my
efforts, until the water broke upon the ship’s Boat Deck where we
were. On top of this upturned boat, half reclining on her bottom, were
now more than a dozen men, whom, by their dress, I took to be all
members of the crew of the ship. Thank God, I did not hesitate a
moment in discarding the friendly crate that had been my first aid. I
struck out through the wreckage and after a considerable swim reached
the port side amidships of this Engelhardt boat, which with her
companions, wherever utilized, did good service in saving the lives of
many others. All honor to the Dane, Captain Engelhardt of Copenhagen,
who built them. I say “port side” because this boat as it was
propelled through the water had Lightoller in the bow and Bride at the
stern, and I believe an analysis of the testimony shows that the
actual bow of the boat was turned about by the wave that struck it on
the Boat Deck and the splash of the funnel thereafter, so that its bow
pointed in an opposite direction to that of the ship. There was one
member of the crew on this craft at the bow and another at the stern
who had “pieces of boarding,” improvised paddles, which were used
effectually for propulsion.

When I reached the side of the boat I met with a doubtful reception,
and, as no extending hand was held out to me, I grabbed, by the muscle
of the left arm, a young member of the crew nearest and facing me. At
the same time I threw my right leg over the boat astraddle, pulling
myself aboard, with a friendly lift to my foot given by someone astern
as I assumed a reclining position with them on the bottom of the
capsized boat. Then after me came a dozen other swimmers who clambered
around and whom we helped aboard. Among them was one completely
exhausted, who came on the same port side as myself. I pulled him in
and he lay face downward in front of me for several hours, until just
before dawn he was able to stand up with the rest of us. The journey
of our craft from the scene of the disaster will be described in the
following chapter. The moment of getting aboard this upturned boat was
one of supreme mental relief, more so than any other until I reached
the deck of the hospitable _Carpathia_ on the next morning. I now felt
for the first time after the lifeboats left us aboard ship that I had
some chance of escape from the horrible fate of drowning in the icy
waters of the middle Atlantic. Every moment of time during the many
experiences of that night, it seemed as if I had all the God-given
physical strength and courage needed for each emergency, and never
suffered an instant from any exhaustion, or required the need of a
helping hand. The only time of any stress whatever was during the
swim, just described, under water, at the moment when I gained my
second wind which brought me to the surface gasping somewhat, but full
of vigor. I was all the time on the lookout for the next danger that
was to be overcome. I kept my presence of mind and courage throughout
it all. Had I lost either for one moment, I never could have escaped
to tell the tale. This is in answer to many questions as to my
personal sensations during these scenes and the successive dangers
which I encountered. From a psychological viewpoint also, it may be a
study of interest illustrating the power of mind over matter. The
sensation of fear has a visible effect upon one. It palsies one’s
thoughts and actions. One becomes thereby short of breath; the heart
actually beats quicker and as one loses one’s head one grows desperate
and is gone. I have questioned those who have been near drowning and
who know this statement to be a fact. It is the same in other
emergencies, and the lesson to be learned is that we should--

    “Let courage rise with danger,
    And strength to strength oppose.”

To attain this courage in the hour of danger is very much a matter of
physical, mental and religious training. But courage and strength
would have availed me little had I not providentially escaped from
being knocked senseless, or maimed, as so many other strong swimmers
undoubtedly were. The narrow escapes that I had from being thus
knocked unconscious could be recapitulated, and I still bear the scars
on my body of wounds received at the moment, or moments, when I was
struck by some undefined object. I received a blow on the top of my
head, but I did not notice it or the other wounds until I arrived on
board the _Carpathia_, when I found inflamed cuts on both my legs and
bruises on my knees, which soon became black and blue, and I was sore
to the touch all over my body for several days.

It is necessary for me to turn to the accounts of others for a
description of what happened during the interval that I was under
water. My information about it is derived from many sources and
includes various points of general interest, showing how the _Titanic_
looked when she foundered, the undisputed facts that there was very
little suction and that the forward funnel broke from the ship,
falling on the starboard side into the sea. Various points of personal
interest are also derived from the same source which the reader can
analyze, for estimating the interval that I was below the surface of
the ocean and the distance covered in my swim under water; for after I
rose to the surface it appears that I had passed under both the
falling funnel and then under the upturned boat, and a considerable
distance beyond. Had I gone but a short distance under water and
arisen straight up, I should have met the horrible fate of being
struck by the falling funnel which, according to the evidence
submitted, must have killed or drowned a number of unfortunates
struggling in the water. I select these accounts of my shipwrecked
companions, which supplement my personal experience, particularly the
accounts of the same reliable and authoritative witnesses already
cited, and from those who were rescued, as I was, on the bottom of the
upset Engelhardt boat.

The following is from the account of Mr. Beesley: “The water was by
now up to the last row of portholes. We were about two miles from her,
and the crew insisted that such a tremendous wave would be formed by
suction as she went down, that we ought to get as far as possible
away. The ‘Captain’ (as he calls Stoker Fred Barrett), and all, lay on
their oars. Presently, about 2 a. m. (2.15 a. m. per book account),
as near as I can remember, we observed her settling very rapidly, with
the bow and 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....
To our amazement, she remained in that upright position for a time
which I estimate as five minutes.” On a previous page of my narrative,
I have already quoted from his book account how “the stern and some
150 feet of the ship stood outlined against the star-specked sky,
looming black in the darkness, and in this position she continued for
some minutes--I think as much as five minutes, but it may have been
less.” Now, when I disappeared under the sea, sinking with the ship,
there is nothing more surely established in my testimony than that
about nine-sixteenths of the _Titanic_ was still out of the water, and
when my head reached the surface she had entirely disappeared.

The New York _Times_, of April 19, 1912, contained the story of Mr.
and Mrs. D. H. Bishop, first cabin passengers from Dowagiac, Michigan.
Their short account is one of the best I have read. As they wrote it
independently of Beesley’s account, and from a different point of
view, being in another lifeboat (No. 7, the first to leave the ship),
the following corroborative testimony, taken from their story, helps
to establish the truth:

“We did not begin to understand the situation till we were perhaps a
mile away from the _Titanic_. Then we could see the row of lights
along the deck begin to slant gradually upward from the bow. Very
slowly the lines of light began to point downward at a greater and
greater angle. The sinking was so slow that you could not perceive the
lights of the deck changing their position. The slant seemed to be
greater about every quarter of an hour. That was the only difference.

“In a couple of hours she began to go down more rapidly.... Suddenly
the ship seemed to shoot up out of the water and stand there
perpendicularly. It seemed to us that it stood _upright in the water
for four full minutes_.[3] Then it began to slide gently downwards.
Its speed increased as it went down head first, so that the stern shot
down with a rush.”

    [3] Italics are mine.--Author.

Harold Bride, who was swept from the Boat Deck, held on to an oarlock
of the Engelhardt boat (which Clinch Smith and I had left a few
moments before, as has already been described). I have cited his
account of coming up under the boat and then clambering upon it. He
testifies to there being no suction and adds the following: “I
suppose I was 150 feet away when the _Titanic_, on her nose with her
after-quarter sticking straight up into the air, began to
settle--slowly. When at last the waves washed over her rudder, there
was not the least bit of suction I could feel. She must have kept
going just so slowly as she had been.” Second Officer Lightoller too,
in his conversation with me, verified his testimony before the Senate
Committee that, “The last boat, a flat collapsible (the Engelhardt) to
put off was the one on top of the officers’ quarters. Men jumped upon
it on deck and waited for the water to float it off. The forward
funnel fell into the water, just missing the raft (as he calls our
upset boat). The funnel probably killed persons in the water. This was
the boat I eventually got on. About thirty men clambered out of the
water on to it.”

Seventeen year old “Jack” Thayer was also on the starboard side of the
ship, and jumped from the rail before the Engelhardt boat was swept
from the Boat Deck by the “giant wave.” Young Thayer’s reported
description of this is as follows:

“I jumped out, feet first, went down, and as I came up I was pushed
away from the ship by some force. I was sucked down again, and as I
came up I was pushed out again and twisted around by a large wave,
coming up in the midst of a great deal of small wreckage. My hand
touched the canvas fender of an overturned lifeboat. I looked up and
saw some men on the top. One of them helped me up. In a short time the
bottom was covered with twenty-five or thirty men. The assistant
wireless operator (Bride) was right next to me holding on to me and
kneeling in the water.”

In my conversations with Thayer, Lightoller and others, it appears
that the funnel fell in the water between the Engelhardt boat and the
ship, washing the former further away from the _Titanic’s_ starboard
side.

Since the foregoing was written, the testimony before the United
States Senate Committee has been printed in pamphlet form, from which
I have been able to obtain other evidence, and particularly that of
Second Officer Lightoller in regard to the last quarter of an hour or
so on board the ship and up to the time we reached the upset boat. I
have also obtained and substantiated other evidence bearing upon the
same period. Mr. Lightoller testified as follows: “Half an hour, or
three quarters of an hour before I left the ship, when it was taking a
heavy list--not a heavy list--a list over to port, the order was
called, I think by the chief officer, ‘Everyone on the starboard side
to straighten her up,’ which I repeated. When I left the ship I saw no
women or children aboard whatever. All the boats on the port side
were lowered with the exception of one--the last boat, which was
stowed on top of the officers’ quarters. We had not time to launch it,
nor yet to open it. When all the other boats were away, I called for
men to go up there; told them to cut her adrift and throw her down. It
floated off the ship, and I understand the men standing on top, who
assisted to launch it down, jumped on to it as it was on the deck and
floated off with it. It was the collapsible type of boat, and the
bottom-up boat we eventually got on. When this lifeboat floated off
the ship, we were thrown off a couple of times. When I came to it, it
was bottom-up and there was no one on it. Immediately after finding
that overturned lifeboat, and when I came alongside of it, there were
quite a lot of us in the water around it preparatory to getting up on
it. Then the forward funnel fell down. It fell alongside of the
lifeboat about four inches clear of it on all the people there
alongside of the boat. Eventually, about thirty of us got on it: Mr.
Thayer, Bride, the second Marconi operator, and Col. Gracie. I think
all the rest were firemen taken out of the water.”

Compare this with the description given by J. Hagan in correspondence
which he began with me last May. J. Hagan is a poor chap, who
described himself in this correspondence as one who “was working my
passage to get to America for the first time,” and I am convinced that
he certainly earned it, and, moreover, was one of us on that upset
boat that night. His name does not appear on the list of the crew and
must not be confounded with “John Hagan, booked as fireman on the
steamer, who sailed for England April 20th on the _Lapland_,” whereas
our John Hagan was admitted to St. Vincent’s hospital on April 22nd.
In describing this period John Hagan says it was by the Captain’s
orders, when the ship was listing to port, that passengers were sent
to the starboard side to straighten the ship. He went half-way and
returned to where Lightoller was loading the last boat lowered.
Lightoller told him there was another boat on the roof of the
officers’ house if he cared to get it down. This was the Engelhardt
Boat B which, with three others, he could not open until assisted by
three more, and then they pushed it, upside down, on the Boat Deck
below. Hagan cut the string of the oars and was passing the first oar
down to the others, who had left him, when the boat floated into the
water, upside down. He jumped to the Boat Deck and into the water
after the boat and “clung to the tail end of the keel.” The ship was
shaking very much, part of it being under water. “On looking up at
it, I could see death in a minute for us as the forward funnel was
falling and it looked a certainty it would strike our boat and smash
it to pieces; but the funnel missed us about a yard, splashing our
boat thirty yards outward from the ship, and washing off several who
had got on when the boat first floated.” Hagan managed to cling to it
but got a severe soaking. The cries of distress that he heard near by
were an experience he can never forget. It appeared to him that the
flooring of the ship forward had broken away and was floating all
around. Some of the men on the upset boat made use of some pieces of
boarding for paddles with which to help keep clear of the ship.

John Collins, assistant cook on the _Titanic_, also gave his
interesting testimony before the Senate Committee. He appears to have
come on deck at the last moment on the starboard side and witnessed
the Engelhardt boat when it floated off into the sea, he being carried
off by the same wave when he was amidships on the bow as the ship
sank, and kept down under water for at least two or three minutes.
When he came up, he saw this boat again--the same boat on which he had
seen men working when the waves washed it off the deck, and the men
clinging to it. He was only about four or five yards off and swam over
to it and got on to it. He says he is sure there were probably
fifteen thereon at the time he got on. Those who were on the boat did
not help him to get on. They were watching the ship. After he got on
the boat, he did not see any lights on the _Titanic_, though the stern
of the ship was still afloat when he first reached the surface. He
accounts for the wave that washed him off amidships as due to the
suction which took place when the bow went down in the water and the
waves washed the decks clear. He saw a mass of people in the wreckage,
hundreds in number, and heard their awful cries.




CHAPTER V

ALL NIGHT ON BOTTOM OF HALF SUBMERGED UPTURNED BOAT

    “O God of our salvation, Thou who art the hope of them that
    remain in the broad sea....”--Ps. 65:5, 7.


ALL my companions in shipwreck who made their escape with me on top of
the bottom-side-up Engelhardt boat, must recall the anxious moment
after the limit was reached when “about 30 men had clambered out of
the water on to the boat.” The weight of each additional body
submerged our lifecraft more and more beneath the surface. There were
men swimming in the water all about us. One more clambering aboard
would have swamped our already crowded craft. The situation was a
desperate one, and was only saved by the refusal of the crew,
especially those at the stern of the boat, to take aboard another
passenger. After pulling aboard the man who lay exhausted, face
downward in front of me, I turned my head away from the sights in the
water lest I should be called upon to refuse the pleading cries of
those who were struggling for their lives. What happened at this
juncture, therefore, my fellow companions in shipwreck can better
describe. Steward Thomas Whiteley, interviewed by the New York
_Tribune_, said: “I drifted near a boat wrong-side-up. About 30 men
were clinging to it. They refused to let me get on. Somebody tried to
hit me with an oar, but I scrambled on to her.” Harry Senior, a
fireman on the _Titanic_, as interviewed in the London _Illustrated
News_ of May 4th, and in the New York _Times_ of April 19th, is
reported as follows: “On the overturned boat in question were, amongst
others, Charles Lightoller, Second Officer of the _Titanic_; Col.
Archibald Gracie, and Mr. J. B. Thayer, Jr., all of whom had gone down
with the liner and had come to the surface again”; and “I tried to get
aboard of her, but some chap hit me over the head with an oar. There
were too many on her. I got around to the other side of the boat and
climbed on. There were thirty-five of us, including the second
officer, and no women. I saw any amount of drowning and dead around
us.” Bride’s story in the same issue of the New York _Times_ says: “It
was a terrible sight all around--men swimming and sinking. Others came
near. Nobody gave them a hand. The bottom-up boat already had more men
than it would hold and was sinking. At first the large waves splashed
over my clothing; then they began to splash over my head and I had to
breathe when I could.”

Though I did not see, I could not avoid hearing what took place at
this most tragic crisis in all my life. The men with the paddles,
forward and aft, so steered the boat as to avoid contact with the
unfortunate swimmers pointed out struggling in the water. I heard the
constant explanation made as we passed men swimming in the wreckage,
“Hold on to what you have, old boy; one more of you aboard would sink
us all.” In no instance, I am happy to say, did I hear any word of
rebuke uttered by a swimmer because of refusal to grant assistance.
There was no case of cruel violence. But there was one transcendent
piece of heroism that will remain fixed in my memory as the most
sublime and coolest exhibition of courage and cheerful resignation to
fate and fearlessness of death. This was when a reluctant refusal of
assistance met with the ringing response in the deep manly voice of a
powerful man, who, in his extremity, replied: “All right, boys; good
luck and God bless you.” I have often wished that the identity of this
hero might be established and an individual tribute to his memory
preserved. He was not an acquaintance of mine, for the tones of his
voice would have enabled me to recognize him.

Collins in his testimony and Hagan in his letter to me refer to the
same incident, the former before the Senate Committee, saying: “All
those who wanted to get on and tried to get on got on with the
exception of only one. This man was not pushed off by anyone, but
those on the boat asked him not to try to get on. We were all on the
boat running [shifting our weight] from one side to the other to keep
her steady. If this man had caught hold of her he would have tumbled
the whole lot of us off. He acquiesced and said, ‘that is all right,
boys; keep cool; God bless you,’ and he bade us good-bye.”

Hagan refers to the same man who “swam close to us saying, ‘Hello
boys, keep calm, boys,’ asking to be helped up, and was told he could
not get on as it might turn the boat over. He asked for a plank and
was told to cling to what he had. It was very hard to see so brave a
man swim away saying, ‘God bless you.’”

All this time our nearly submerged boat was amidst the wreckage and
fast being paddled out of the danger zone whence arose the
heart-rending cries already described of the struggling swimmers. It
was at this juncture that expressions were used by some of the uncouth
members of the ship’s crew, which grated upon my sensibilities. The
hearts of these men, as I presently discovered, were all right and
they were far from meaning any offence when they adopted their usual
slang, sounding harsh to my ears, and referred to our less fortunate
shipwrecked companions as “the blokes swimming in the water.” What I
thus heard made me feel like an alien among my fellow boatmates, and I
did them the injustice of believing that I, as the only passenger
aboard, would, in case of diversity of interest, receive short shrift
at their hands and for this reason I thought it best to have as little
to say as possible. During all these struggles I had been uttering
silent prayers for deliverance, and it occurred to me that this was
the occasion of all others when we should join in an appeal to the
Almighty as our last and only hope in life, and so it remained for one
of these men, whom I had regarded as uncouth, a Roman Catholic seaman,
to take precedence in suggesting the thought in the heart of everyone
of us. He was astern and in arm’s length of me. He first made inquiry
as to the religion of each of us and found Episcopalians, Roman
Catholics and Presbyterians. The suggestion that we should say the
Lord’s Prayer together met with instant approval, and our voices with
one accord burst forth in repeating that great appeal to the Creator
and Preserver of all mankind, and the only prayer that everyone of us
knew and could unite in, thereby manifesting that we were all sons of
God and brothers to each other whatever our sphere in life or creed
might be. Recollections of this incident are embodied in my account as
well as those of Bride and Thayer, independently reported in the New
York papers on the morning after our arrival. This is what Bride
recalls: “Somebody said ‘don’t the rest of you think we ought to
pray?’ The man who made the suggestion asked what the religion of the
others was. Each man called out his religion. One was a Catholic, one
a Methodist, one a Presbyterian. It was decided the most appropriate
prayer for all of us was the Lord’s Prayer. We spoke it over in
chorus, with the man who first suggested that we pray as the leader.”

Referring to this incident in his sermon on “The Lessons of the Great
Disaster,” the Rev. Dr. Newell Dwight Hillis, of Plymouth Church,
says: “When Col. Gracie came up, after the sinking of the _Titanic_,
he says that he made his way to a sunken raft. The submerged little
raft was under water often, but every man, without regard to
nationality, broke into instant prayer. There were many voices, but
they all had one signification--their sole hope was in God. There
were no millionaires, for millions fell away like leaves; there were
no poor; men were neither wise nor ignorant; they were simply human
souls on the sinking raft; the night was black and the waves yeasty
with foam, and the grave where the _Titanic_ lay was silent under
them, and the stars were silent over them! But as they prayed, each
man by that inner light saw an invisible Friend walking across the
waves. Henceforth, these need no books on Apologetics to prove there
is a God. This man who has written his story tells us that God heard
the prayers of some by giving them death, and heard the prayers of
others equally by keeping them in life; but God alone is great!”

The lesson thus drawn from the incident described must be well
appreciated by all my boatmates who realized the utter helplessness of
our position, and that the only hope we then had in life was in our
God, and as the Rev. Dr. Hillis says: “In that moment the evanescent,
transient, temporary things dissolved like smoke, and the big,
permanent things stood out--God, Truth, Purity, Love, and Oh! how
happy those who were good friends with God, their conscience and their
record.”

We all recognize the fact that our escape from a watery grave was due
to the conditions of wind and weather. All night long we prayed that
the calm might last. Towards morning the sea became rougher, and it
was for the two-fold purpose of avoiding the ice-cold water,[4] and
also to attract attention, that we all stood up in column, two
abreast, facing the bow. The waves at this time broke over the keel,
and we maintained a balance to prevent the escape of the small volume
of air confined between sea and upset boat by shifting the weight of
our bodies first to port and then to starboard. I believe that the
life of everyone of us depended upon the preservation of this confined
air-bubble, and our anxious thought was lest some of this air might
escape and deeper down our overloaded boat would sink. Had the boat
been completely turned over, compelling us to cling to the submerged
gunwale, it could not have supported our weight, and we should have
been frozen to death in the ice-cold water before rescue could reach
us. My exertions had been so continuous and so strenuous before I got
aboard this capsized boat that I had taken no notice of the icy
temperature of the water. We all suffered severely from cold and
exposure. The boat was so loaded down with the heavy weight it
carried that it became partly submerged, and the water washed up to
our waists as we lay in our reclining position. Several of our
companions near the stern of the boat, unable to stand the exposure
and strain, gave up the struggle and fell off.

    [4] Temperature of water 28 degrees, of air 27 degrees
    Fahrenheit, at midnight, April 14th (American Inquiry, page
    1142).

After we had left the danger zone in the vicinity of the wreck,
conversation between us first developed, and I heard the men aft of me
discussing the fate of the Captain. At least two of them, according to
their statements made at the time, had seen him on this craft of ours
shortly after it was floated from the ship. In the interviews already
referred to, Harry Senior the fireman, referring to the same
overturned boat, said: “The Captain had been able to reach this boat.
They had pulled him on, but he slipped off again.” Still another
witness, the entrée cook of the _Titanic_, J. Maynard, who was on our
boat, corroborates what I heard said at the time about the inability
of the Captain to keep his hold on the boat. From several sources I
have the information about the falling of the funnel, the splash of
which swept from the upturned boat several who were first clinging
thereto, and among the number possibly was the Captain. From the
following account of Bride, it would appear he was swept off himself
and regained his hold later. “I saw a boat of some kind near me and
put all my strength into an effort to swim to it. It was hard work. I
was all done when a hand reached out from the boat and pulled me
aboard. It was our same collapsible. The same crew was on it. There
was just room for me to roll on the edge. I lay there, not caring what
happened.” Fortunately for us all, the majority of us were not thus
exhausted or desperate. On the contrary, these men on this upset boat
had plenty of strength and the purpose to battle for their lives.
There were no beacon torches on crag and cliff; no shouts in the
pauses of the storm to tell them there was hope; nor deep-toned bell
with its loudest peal sending cheerily, o’er the deep, comfort to
these wretched souls in their extremity. There were, however, lights
forward and on the port side to be seen all the time until the
_Carpathia_ appeared. These lights were only those of the _Titanic’s_
other lifeboats, and thus it was, as they gazed with eager, anxious
eyes that

    “Fresh hope did give them strength and strength deliverance.”[5]

    [5] Maturin’s _Bertram_.

The suffering on the boat from cold was intense. My neighbor in front,
whom I had pulled aboard, must also have been suffering from
exhaustion, but it was astern of us whence came later the reports
about fellow boatmates who gave up the struggle and fell off from
exhaustion, or died, unable to stand the exposure and strain. Among
the number, we are told by Bride and Whiteley, was the senior Marconi
operator, Phillips, but their statement that it was Phillips’ lifeless
body which we transferred first to a lifeboat and thence to the
_Carpathia_ is a mistake, for the body referred to both Lightoller and
myself know to have been that of a member of the crew, as described
later. Bride himself suffered severely. “Somebody sat on my legs,” he
says. “They were wedged in between slats and were being wrenched.”
When he reached the _Carpathia_ he was taken to the hospital and on
our arrival in New York was carried ashore with his “feet badly
crushed and frostbitten.”

The combination of cold and the awful scenes of suffering and death
which he witnessed from our upturned boat deeply affected another
first cabin survivor, an Englishman, Mr. R. H. Barkworth, whose tender
heart is creditable to his character.

Another survivor of our upturned boat, James McGann, a fireman,
interviewed by the New York _Tribune_ on April 20th, says that he was
one of the thirty of us, mostly firemen, clinging to it as she left
the ship. As to the suffering endured that night he says: “All our
legs were frostbitten and we were all in the hospital for a day at
least.”

“Hagan” also adds his testimony as to the sufferings endured by our
boatmates. He says: “One man on the upturned boat rolled off, into the
water, at the stern, dead with fright and cold. Another died in the
lifeboat.” Here he refers to the lifeless body which we transferred,
and finally put aboard the _Carpathia_, but which was not Phillips’.

Lightoller testified: “I think there were three or four who died
during the night aboard our boat. The Marconi junior operator told me
that the senior operator was on this boat and died, presumably from
cold.”

But the uncommunicative little member of the crew beside me did not
seem to suffer much. He was like a number of others who were possessed
of hats or caps--his was an outing cap; while those who sank under
water had lost them. The upper part of his body appeared to be
comparatively dry; so I believe he and some others escaped being drawn
under with the _Titanic_ by clinging to the Engelhardt boat from the
outset when it parted company with the ship and was washed from the
deck by the “giant wave.” He seemed so dry and comfortable while I
felt so damp in my waterlogged clothing, my teeth chattering and my
hair wet with the icy water, that I ventured to request the loan of
his dry cap to warm my head for a short while. “And what wad oi do?”
was his curt reply. “Ah, never mind,” said I, as I thought it would
make no difference a hundred years hence. Poor chap, it would seem
that all his possessions were lost when his kit went down with the
ship. Not far from me and on the starboard side was a more loquacious
member of the crew. I was not near enough, however, to him to indulge
in any imaginary warmth from the fumes of the O-be-joyful spirits
which he gave unmistakable evidence of having indulged in before
leaving the ship. Most of the conversation, as well as excitement,
came from behind me, astern. The names of other survivors who, besides
those mentioned, escaped on the same nearly submerged life craft with
me are recorded in the history of Boat B in Chapter V, which contains
the results of my research work in regard thereto.

After we paddled away free from the wreckage and swimmers in the water
that surrounded us, our undivided attention until the dawn of the next
day was concentrated upon scanning the horizon in every direction for
the lights of a ship that might rescue us before the sea grew
rougher, for the abnormal conditions of wind and weather that
prevailed that night were the causes of the salvation, as well as the
destruction, of those aboard this ill-fated vessel. The absolute calm
of the sea, while it militated against the detection of the iceberg in
our path, at the same time made it possible for all of the lifeboats
lowered from the davits to make their long and dangerous descent to
the water without being smashed against the sides of the ship, or
swamped by the waves breaking against them, for, notwithstanding
newspaper reports to the contrary, there appears no authentic
testimony of any survivor showing that any loaded boat in the act of
being lowered was capsized or suffered injury. On the other hand, we
have the positive statements accounting for each individual boatload,
showing that every one of them was thus lowered in safety. But it was
this very calm of the sea, as has been said, which encompassed the
destruction of the ship. The beatings of the waves against the
iceberg’s sides usually give audible warning miles away to the
approaching vessel, while the white foam at the base, due to the same
cause, is also discernible. But in our case the beautiful star-lit
night and cloudless sky, combined with the glassy sea, further
facilitated the iceberg’s approach without detection, for no
background was afforded against which to silhouette the deadly outline
of this black appearing Protean monster which only looks white when
the sun is shining upon it.

All experienced navigators of the northern seas, as I am informed on
the highest authority, knowing the dangers attending such conditions,
invariably take extra precautions to avoid disaster. The _Titanic’s_
officers were no novices, and were well trained in the knowledge of
this and all other dangers of the sea. From the Captain down, they
were the pick of the best that the White Star Line had in its employ.
Our Captain, Edward J. Smith, was the one always selected to “try out”
each new ship of the Line, and was regarded, with his thirty-eight
years of service in the company, as both safe and competent. Did he
take any precautions for safety, in view of the existing dangerous
conditions? Alas! no! as appears from the testimony in regard thereto,
taken before the Investigating Committee and Board in America and in
England which we review in another chapter. And yet, warnings had been
received on the _Titanic’s_ bridge from six different neighboring
ships, one in fact definitely locating the latitude and longitude
where the iceberg was encountered, and that too at a point of time
calculated by one of the _Titanic’s_ officers. Who can satisfactorily
explain this heedlessness of danger?

It was shortly after we had emerged from the horrible scene of men
swimming in the water that I was glad to notice the presence among us on
the upturned boat of the same officer with whom all my work that night
and all my experience was connected in helping to load and lower the
boats on the _Titanic’s_ Boat Deck and Deck “A.” I identified him at
once by his voice and his appearance, but his name was not learned until
I met him again later in my cabin on board the _Carpathia_--Charles H.
Lightoller. For what he did on the ship that night whereby six or more
boatloads of women and children were saved and discipline maintained
aboard ship, as well as on the Engelhardt upturned boat, he is entitled
to honor and the thanks of his own countrymen and of us Americans as
well. As soon as he was recognized, the loquacious member of the crew
astern, already referred to, volunteered in our behalf and called out to
him “We will all obey what the officer orders.” The result was at once
noticeable. The presence of a leader among us was now felt, and lent us
purpose and courage. The excitement at the stern was demonstrated by the
frequent suggestion of, “Now boys, all together”; and then in unison we
shouted, “Boat ahoy! Boat ahoy!” This was kept up for some time until
it was seen to be a mere waste of strength. So it seemed to me, and I
decided to husband mine and make provision for what the future, or the
morrow, might require. After a while Lightoller, myself and others
managed with success to discourage these continuous shouts regarded as a
vain hope of attracting attention.

When the presence of the Marconi boy at the stern was made known,
Lightoller called out, from his position in the bow, questions which
all of us heard, as to the names of the steamships with which he had
been in communication for assistance. We on the boat recall the names
mentioned by Bride--the _Baltic_, _Olympic_ and _Carpathia_. It was
then that the _Carpathia’s_ name was heard by us for the first time,
and it was to catch sight of this sturdy little Cunarder that we
strained our eyes in the direction whence she finally appeared.

We had correctly judged that most of the lights seen by us belonged to
our own _Titanic’s_ lifeboats, but Lightoller and all of us were badly
fooled by the green-colored lights and rockets directly ahead of us,
which loomed up especially bright at intervals. This, as will be
noticed in a future chapter, was Third Officer Boxhall’s Emergency
Boat No. 2. We were assured that these were the lights of a ship and
were all glad to believe it. There could be no mistake about it and
our craft was navigated toward it as fast as its propelling conditions
made possible; but it did not take long for us to realize that this
light, whatever it was, was receding instead of approaching us.

Some of our boatmates on the _Titanic’s_ decks had seen the same white
light to which I have already made reference in Chapter II, and the
argument was now advanced that it must have been a sailing ship, for a
steamer would have soon come to our rescue; but a sailing ship would
be prevented by wind, or lack of facilities in coming to our aid. I
imagined that it was the lights of such a ship that we again saw on
our port side astern in the direction where, when dawn broke, we saw
the icebergs far away on the horizon.

Some time before dawn a call came from the stern of the boat, “There
is a steamer coming behind us.” At the same time a warning cry was
given that we should not all look back at once lest the equilibrium of
our precarious craft might be disturbed. Lightoller took in the
situation and called out, “All you men stand steady and I will be the
one to look astern.” He looked, but there was no responsive chord that
tickled our ears with hope.

  [Illustration: PASSENGERS OF THE OLYMPIC AWAITING EVENTS--AN
      UNUSUAL VIEW OF FOUR OF HER DECKS]

The incident just described happened when we were all standing up,
facing forward in column, two abreast. Some time before this, for some
undefined reason, Lightoller had asked the question, “How many are
there of us on this boat?” and someone answered “thirty, sir.” All
testimony on the subject establishes this number. I may cite
Lightoller, who testified: “I should roughly estimate about thirty.
She was packed standing from stem to stern at daylight. We took all on
board that we could. I did not see any effort made by others to get
aboard. There were a great number of people in the water but not near
us. They were some distance away from us.”

Personally, I could not look around to count, but I know that forward
of me there were eight and counting myself and the man abreast would
make two more. As every bit of room on the Engelhardt bottom was
occupied and as the weight aboard nearly submerged it, I believe that
more than half our boatload was behind me. There is a circumstance
that I recall which further establishes how closely packed we were.
When standing up I held on once or twice to the life-preserver on the
back of my boatmate in front in order to balance myself. At the same
time and in the same way the man in my rear held on to me. This
procedure, being objectionable to those concerned, was promptly
discontinued.

It was at quite an early stage that I had seen far in the distance the
unmistakable mast lights of a steamer about four or five points away
on the port side, as our course was directed toward the green-colored
lights of the imaginary ship which we hoped was coming to our rescue,
but which, in fact, was the already-mentioned _Titanic_ lifeboat of
Officer Boxhall. I recall our anxiety, as we had no lights, that this
imaginary ship might not see us and might run over our craft and swamp
us. But my eyes were fixed for hours that night on the lights of that
steamer, far away in the distance, which afterwards proved to be those
of the _Carpathia_. To my great disappointment, they seemed to make no
progress towards us to our rescue. This we were told later was due to
meeting an iceberg as she was proceeding full speed toward the scene
of the _Titanic’s_ wreck. She had come to a stop in sight of the
lights of our lifeboats (or such as had them). The first boat to come
to her sides was Boxhall’s with its green lights. Finally dawn
appeared and there on the port side of our upset boat where we had
been looking with anxious eyes, glory be to God, we saw the steamer
_Carpathia_ about four or five miles away, with other _Titanic_
lifeboats rowing towards her. But on our starboard side, much to our
surprise, for we had seen no lights on that quarter, were four of the
_Titanic’s_ lifeboats strung together in line. These were respectively
Numbers 14, 10, 12 and 4, according to testimony submitted in our next
chapter.

Meantime, the water had grown rougher, and, as previously described,
was washing over the keel and we had to make shift to preserve the
equilibrium. Right glad were all of us on our upturned boat when in
that awful hour the break of day brought this glorious sight to our
eyes. Lightoller put his whistle to his cold lips and blew a shrill
blast, attracting the attention of the boats about half a mile away.
“Come over and take us off,” he cried. “Aye, aye, sir,” was the ready
response as two of the boats cast off from the others and rowed
directly towards us. Just before the bows of the two boats reached us,
Lightoller ordered us not to scramble, but each to take his turn, so
that the transfer might be made in safety. When my turn came, in order
not to endanger the lives of the others, or plunge them into the sea,
I went carefully, hands first, into the rescuing lifeboat. Lightoller
remained to the last, lifting a lifeless body into the boat beside me.
I worked over the body for some time, rubbing the temples and the
wrists, but when I turned the neck it was perfectly stiff.
Recognizing that rigor mortis had set in, I knew the man was dead. He
was dressed like a member of the crew, and I recall that he wore gray
woollen socks. His hair was dark. Our lifeboat was so crowded that I
had to rest on this dead body until we reached the _Carpathia_, where
he was taken aboard and buried. My efforts to obtain his name have
been exhaustive, but futile. Lightoller was uncertain as to which one
he was of two men he had in mind; but we both know that it was not the
body of Phillips, the senior Marconi operator. In the lifeboat to
which we were transferred were said to be sixty-five or seventy of us.
The number was beyond the limit of safety. The boat sank low in the
water, and the sea now became rougher. Lightoller assumed the command
and steered at the stern. I was glad to recognize young Thayer
amidships. There was a French woman in the bow near us actively ill
but brave and considerate. She was very kind in loaning an extra
steamer rug to Barkworth, by my side, who shared it with a member of
the crew (a fireman perhaps) and myself. That steamer rug was a great
comfort as we drew it over our heads and huddled close together to
obtain some warmth. For a short time another _Titanic_ lifeboat was
towed by ours. My lifebelt was wet and uncomfortable and I threw it
overboard. Fortunately there was no further need of it for the use
intended. I regret I did not preserve it as a relic. When we were
first transferred and only two of the lifeboats came to our rescue,
some took it hard that the other two did not also come to our relief,
when we saw how few these others had aboard; but the officer in
command of them, whom we afterwards knew as Fifth Officer Lowe, had
cleverly rigged up a sail on his boat and, towing another astern, made
his way to the _Carpathia_ a long time ahead of us, but picked up on
his way other unfortunates in another Engelhardt boat, Boat A, which
had shipped considerable water.

My research, particularly the testimony taken before the Senate
Committee, establishes the identity of the _Titanic_ lifeboats to
which, at daydawn, we of the upset boat were transferred. These were
Boats No. 12 and No. 4. The former was the one that Lightoller,
Barkworth, Thayer, Jr., and myself were in. Frederick Clench, able
seaman, was in charge of this boat, and his testimony, as follows, is
interesting:

“I looked along the water’s edge and saw some men on a raft. Then I
heard two whistles blown. I sang out, ‘Aye, aye, I am coming over,’
and we pulled over and found it was not a raft exactly, but an
overturned boat, and Mr. Lightoller was there on that boat and I
thought the wireless operator, too. We took them on board our boat and
shared the amount of room. They were all standing on the bottom, wet
through apparently. Mr. Lightoller took charge of us. Then we started
ahead for the _Carpathia_. We had to row a tidy distance to the
_Carpathia_ because there were boats ahead of us and we had a boat in
tow, with others besides all the people we had aboard. We were pretty
well full up before, but the additional ones taken on made about
seventy in our boat.”

This corresponds with Lightoller’s testimony on the same point. He
says:

“I counted sixty-five heads, not including myself, and none that were
in the bottom of the boat. I roughly estimated about seventy-five in
the boat, which was dangerously full, and it was all I could do to
nurse her up to the sea.”

From Steward Cunningham’s testimony I found a corroboration of my
estimate of our distance, at daydawn, from the _Carpathia_. This he
says “was about four or five miles.”

Another seaman, Samuel S. Hemming, who was in Boat No. 4, commanded by
Quartermaster Perkis, also gave his testimony as follows:

“As day broke we heard some hollering going on and we saw some men
standing on what we thought was ice about half a mile away, but we
found them on the bottom of an upturned boat. Two boats cast off and
we pulled to them and took them in our two boats. There were no women
or children on this boat, and I heard there was one dead body. Second
Officer Lightoller was on the overturned boat. He did not get into our
boat. Only about four or five got into ours and the balance of them
went into the other boat.”

  [Illustration: THE OVERTURNED ENGELHARDT BOAT B]

It seemed to me an interminable time before we reached the
_Carpathia_. Ranged along her sides were others of the _Titanic’s_
lifeboats which had been rowed to the Cunarder and had been emptied of
their loads of survivors. In one of these boats on the port side,
standing up, I noticed my friend, Third Officer H. J. Pitman, with
whom I had made my trip eastward on the Atlantic on board the
_Oceanic_. All along the sides of the _Carpathia_ were strung rope
ladders. There were no persons about me needing my assistance, so I
mounted the ladder, and, for the purpose of testing my strength, I ran
up as fast as I could and experienced no difficulty or feeling of
exhaustion. I entered the first hatchway I came to and felt like
falling down on my knees and kissing the deck in gratitude for the
preservation of my life. I made my way to the second cabin
dispensary, where I was handed a hot drink. I then went to the deck
above and was met with a warm reception in the dining saloon. Nothing
could exceed the kindness of the ladies, who did everything possible
for my comfort. All my wet clothing, overcoat and shoes, were sent
down to the bake-oven to be dried. Being thus in lack of clothing, I
lay down on the lounge in the dining saloon corner to the right of the
entrance under rugs and blankets, waiting for a complete outfit of dry
clothing.

I am particularly grateful to a number of kind people on the
_Carpathia_ who helped replenish my wardrobe, but especially to Mr.
Louis M. Ogden, a family connection and old friend. To Mrs. Ogden and
to Mr. and Mrs. Spedden, who were on the _Titanic_, and to their boy’s
trained nurse, I am also most grateful. They gave me hot cordials and
hot coffee which soon warmed me up and dispersed the cold. Among the
_Carpathia’s_ passengers, bound for the Mediterranean, I discovered a
number of friends of Mrs. Gracie’s and mine--Miss K. Steele, sister of
Charles Steele, of New York, Mr. and Mrs. Charles H. Marshall and Miss
Marshall, of New York. Leaning over the rail of the port side I saw
anxiously gazing down upon us many familiar faces of fellow survivors,
and, among them, friends and acquaintances to whom I waved my hand as
I stood up in the bow of my boat. This boat No. 12 was the last to
reach the _Carpathia_ and her passengers transferred about 8.30 a. m.




CHAPTER VI

THE PORT SIDE: WOMEN AND CHILDREN FIRST


_Foreword_

THE previous chapters, describing my personal experience on board the
_Titanic_ and remarkable escape from death in the icy waters of the
middle Atlantic, were written some months ago. In the interim I have
received the pamphlets, printed in convenient form, containing the
hearings of both the American and British Courts of Inquiry, and have
given them considerable study.

These official sources of information have added materially to my
store of knowledge concerning the shipwreck, and corroborate to a
marked degree the description from my personal viewpoint, all the
salient points of which were written before our arrival in New York,
and on the S. S. _Carpathia_, under circumstances which will be
related in a future chapter.

During the same interval, by correspondence with survivors and by
reading all available printed matter in books, magazine articles and
newspapers, I have become still more conversant with the story of
this, the greatest of maritime disasters, which caused more excitement
in our country than any other single event that has occurred in its
history within a generation.

The adopted standard by which I propose to measure the truth of all
statements in this book is the evidence obtained from these Courts of
Inquiry, after it has been subjected to careful and impartial
analysis. All accounts of the disaster, from newspapers and individual
sources, for which no basis can be found after submission to this
refining process, will find no place or mention herein. In the
discussion of points of historical interest or of individual conduct,
where such are matters of public record, I shall endeavor to present
them fairly before the reader, who can pass thereon his or her own
opinion after a study of the testimony bearing on both sides of any
controversy. In connection with such discussion where the reflections
cast upon individuals in the sworn testimony of witnesses have already
gained publicity, I claim immunity from any real or imaginary
animadversions which may be provoked by my impartial reference
thereto.

I have already recorded my personal observation of how strictly the
rule of human nature, “Women and Children First,” was enforced on the
port side of the great steamship, whence no man escaped alive who made
his station on this quarter and bade good-bye to wife, mother or
sister.

I have done my best, during the limited time allowed, to exhaust all
the above-defined sources of information, in an effort to preserve as
complete a list as possible of those comrades of mine who, from first
to last, on this port side of the ship, helped to preserve order and
discipline, upholding the courage of women and children, until all the
boats had left the _Titanic_, and who then sank with the ship when she
went down.

I shall now present the record and story of each lifeboat, on both
port and starboard sides of the ship, giving so far as I have been
able to obtain them the names of persons loaded aboard each boat,
passengers and crew; those picked up out of the water; the stowaways
found concealed beneath the thwarts, and those men who, without
orders, jumped from the deck into boats being lowered, injuring the
occupants and endangering the lives of women and children. At the same
time will be described the conditions existing when each boat was
loaded and lowered, and whatever incidents occurred in the transfer of
passengers to the rescuing steamer _Carpathia_.

The general testimony of record, covering the conduct which was
exhibited on the port side of the ship, is contained in the careful
statements of that splendid officer, Charles H. Lightoller, before the
United States Senate Committee: (Am. Inq., p. 88.)

Senator Smith: From what you have said, you discriminated entirely in
the interest of the passengers--first women and children--in filling
these lifeboats?

Mr. Lightoller: Yes, sir.

Senator Smith: Why did you do that? Because of the captain’s orders,
or because of the rule of the sea?

Mr. Lightoller: The rule of human nature.

And also in his testimony before the British Inquiry (p. 71):

“I asked the captain on the Boat Deck, ‘Shall I get women and children
in the boats?’ The captain replied, ‘Yes, and lower away.’ I was
carrying out his orders. I am speaking of the port side of the ship. I
was running the port side only. All the boats on this side were
lowered except the last, which was stowed on top of the officers’
quarters. This was the surf boat--the Engelhardt boat (A). We had not
time to launch it, nor yet to open it.”

(Br. Inq.) “I had no difficulty in filling the boat. The people were
perfectly ready and quiet. There was no jostling or pushing or
crowding whatever. The men all refrained from asserting their strength
and from crowding back the women and children. They could not have
stood quieter if they had been in church.”

And referring to the last boats that left the ship (Br. Inq., p. 83):

“When we were lowering the women, there were any amount of Americans
standing near who gave me every assistance they could.”

The crow’s nest on the foremast was just about level with the water
when the bridge was submerged. The people left on the ship, or that
part which was not submerged, did not make any demonstration. There
was not a sign of any lamentation.

On the port side on deck I can say, as far as my own observations
went, from my own endeavor and that of others to obtain women, there
were none left on the deck.

My testimony on the same point before the United States Senate
Committee (Am. Inq., p. 992) was as follows:

“I want to say that there was nothing but the most heroic conduct on
the part of all men and women at that time where I was at the bow on
the port side. There was no man who asked to get in a boat with the
single exception that I have already mentioned. (Referring to Col.
Astor’s request to go aboard to protect his wife. Am. Inq., p. 991.)
No women even sobbed or wrung their hands, and everything appeared
perfectly orderly. Lightoller was splendid in his conduct with the
crew, and the crew did their duty. It seemed to me it was a little bit
more difficult than it should have been to launch the boats alongside
the ship. I do not know the cause of that. I know I had to use my
muscle as best I could in trying to push those boats so as to get them
over the gunwale. I refer to these in a general way as to its being
difficult in trying to lift them and push them over. (As was the case
with the Engelhardt “D.”) The crew, at first, sort of resented my
working with them, but they were very glad when I worked with them
later on. Every opportunity I got to help, I helped.”

How these statements are corroborated by the testimony of others is
recorded in the detailed description of each boat that left the ship
on the port side as follows:


BOAT NO. 6.[6]

    [6] British Report (p. 38) puts this boat first to leave port
    side at 12.55. Lightoller’s testimony shows it could not have
    been the first.

_No male passengers._

_Passengers:_ Miss Bowerman, Mrs. J. J. Brown, Mrs. Candee, Mrs.
Cavendish and her maid (Miss Barber), Mrs. Meyer, Miss Norton, Mrs.
Rothschild, Mrs. L. P. Smith, Mrs. Stone and her maid (Miss Icard).

_Ordered in to supply lack of crew:_ Major A. G. Peuchen.

_Said good-bye to wives and sank with ship:_ Messrs. Cavendish, Meyer,
Rothschild and L. P. Smith.

_Crew:_ Hitchens, Q. M. (in charge). Seaman Fleet. (One fireman
transferred from No. 16 to row.) Also a boy with injured arm whom
Captain Smith had ordered in.

_Total:_ 28. (Br. Inq.)


INCIDENTS

Lightoller’s testimony (Am. Inq., p. 79):

I was calling for seamen and one of the seamen jumped out of the boat
and started to lower away. The boat was half way down when a woman
called out that there was only one man in it. I had only two seamen
and could not part with them, and was in rather a fix to know what to
do when a passenger called out: “If you like, I will go.” This was a
first-class passenger, Major Peuchen, of Toronto. I said: “Are you a
seaman?” and he said: “I am a yachtsman.” I said: “If you are sailor
enough to get out on that fall--that is a difficult thing to get to
over the ship’s side, eight feet away, and means a long swing, on a
dark night--if you are sailor enough to get out there, you can go
down”; and he proved he was, by going down.

       *       *       *       *       *

F. Fleet, L. O. (Am. Inq., p. 363) and (Br. Inq.):

Witness says there were twenty-three women, Major Peuchen and Seamen
Hitchens and himself. As he left the deck he heard Mr. Lightoller
shouting: “Any more women?” No. 6 and one other cut adrift after
reaching the _Carpathia_.

       *       *       *       *       *

Major Arthur Godfrey Peuchen, Manufacturing Chemist, Toronto, Canada,
and Major of Toronto’s crack regiment, The Queen’s Own Rifles (Am.
Inq., p. 334), testified:

I was standing on the Boat Deck, port side, near the second officer
and the captain. One of them said: “We must get these masts and sails
out of these boats; you might give us a hand.” I jumped in, and with a
knife cut the lashings of the mast and sail and moved the mast out of
the boat. Only women were allowed in, and the men had to stand back.
This was the order, and the second officer stood there and carried it
out to the limit. He allowed no men, except sailors who were manning
the boat. I did not see one single male passenger get in or attempt to
get in. I never saw such perfect order. The discipline was perfect. I
did not see a cowardly act by any man.

When I first came on this upper deck there were about 100 stokers
coming up with their dunnage bags and they seemed to crowd this whole
deck in front of the boats. One of the officers, I don’t know which
one, a very powerful man, came along and drove these men right off
this deck like a lot of sheep. They did not put up any resistance. I
admired him for it. Later, there were counted 20 women, one
quartermaster, one sailor and one stowaway, before I was ordered in.

In getting into the boat I went aft and said to the quartermaster:
“What do you want me to do?” “Get down and put that plug in,” he
answered. I made a dive down for the plug. The ladies were all
sitting pretty well aft and I could not see at all. It was dark down
there. I felt with my hands and then said it would be better for him
to do it and me do his work. I said, “Now, you get down and put in the
plug and I will undo the shackles,” that is, take the blocks off, so
he dropped the blocks and got down to fix the plug, and then he came
back to assist me saying, “Hurry up.” He said: “This boat is going to
founder.” I thought he meant our lifeboat was going to founder, but he
meant the large boat, and that we were to hurry up and get away from
it, so we got the rudder in and he told me to go forward and take an
oar. I did so, and got an oar on the port side. Sailor Fleet was on my
left on the starboard side. The quartermaster told us to row as hard
as we could to get away from the suction. We got a short distance away
when an Italian, a stowaway, made his appearance. He had a broken
wrist or arm, and was of no use to row. He was stowed away under the
boat where we could not see him.

Toward morning we tied up to another boat (No. 16) for fifteen
minutes. We said to those in the other boat: “Surely you can spare us
one man if you have so many.” One man, a fireman, was accordingly
transferred, who assisted in rowing on the starboard side. The women
helped with the oars, and very pluckily too.[7]

    [7] “An English girl (Miss Norton) and I rowed for four hours
    and a half.”--Mrs. Meyer in New York _Times_, April 14th, 1912.

We were to the weather of the _Carpathia_, and so she stayed there
until we all came down on her. I looked at my watch and it was
something after eight o’clock.

       *       *       *       *       *

Mrs. Candee’s account of her experience is as follows:

She last saw Mr. Kent in the companionway between Decks A and B. He
took charge of an ivory miniature of her mother, etc., which
afterwards were found on his body when brought into Halifax. He
appeared at the time to hesitate accepting her valuables, seeming to
have a premonition of his fate.

She witnessed the same incident described by Major Peuchen, when a
group of firemen came up on deck and were ordered by the officer to
return below. She, however, gives praise to these men. They obeyed
like soldiers, and without a murmur or a protest, though they knew
better than anyone else on the ship that they were going straight to
their death. No boats had been lowered when these firemen first
appeared upon the Boat Deck, and it would have been an easy matter
for them to have “rushed” the boats.

Her stateroom steward also gave an exhibition of courage. After he had
tied on her life preserver and had locked her room as a precaution
against looters, which she believed was done all through the deck, she
said to this brave man: “It is time for you to look out for yourself,”
to which the steward replied, “Oh, plenty of time for that, Madam,
plenty of time for that.” He was lost.

As she got into boat No. 6, it being dark and not seeing where she
stepped, her foot encountered the oars lying lengthwise in the boat
and her ankle was thus twisted and broken.

Just before her boat was lowered away a man’s voice said: “Captain, we
have no seaman.” Captain Smith then seized a boy by the arm and said:
“Here’s one.” The boy went into the boat as ordered by the captain,
but afterwards he was found to be disabled. She does not think he was
an Italian.

Her impression is that there were other boats in the water which had
been lowered before hers. There was a French woman about fifty years
of age in the boat who was constantly calling for her son. Mrs. Candee
sat near her. After arrival on the _Carpathia_ this French woman
became hysterical.

Notwithstanding Hitchens’ statements, she says that there was
absolutely no upset feeling on the women’s part at any time, even when
the boat, as it was being lowered, on several occasions hung at a
dangerous angle--sometimes bow up and sometimes stern up. The lowering
process seemed to be done by jerks. She herself called out to the men
lowering the boat and gave instructions: otherwise they would have
been swamped.

The Italian boy who was in the boat was not a stowaway, he was ordered
in by the captain as already related. Neither did he refuse to row.
When he tried to do so, it was futile, because of an injury to his arm
or wrist.

       *       *       *       *       *

Through the courtesy of another fellow passenger, Mrs. J. J. Brown, of
Denver, Colorado, I am able to give her experiences in boat No. 6,
told in a delightful, graphic manner; so much so that I would like to
insert it all did not space prevent:

In telling of the people she conversed with, that Sunday evening, she
refers to an exceedingly intellectual and much-travelled acquaintance,
Mrs. Bucknell, whose husband had founded the Bucknell University of
Philadelphia; also to another passenger from the same city, Dr.
Brewe, who had done much in scientific research. During her
conversation with Mrs. Bucknell, the latter reiterated a statement
previously made on the tender at Cherbourg while waiting for the
_Titanic_. She said she feared boarding the ship because she had evil
forebodings that something might happen. Mrs. Brown laughed at her
premonitions and shortly afterwards sought her quarters.

Instead of retiring to slumber, Mrs. Brown was absorbed in reading and
gave little thought to the crash at her window overhead which threw
her to the floor. Picking herself up she proceeded to see what the
steamer had struck; but thinking nothing serious had occurred, though
realizing that the engines had stopped immediately after the crash and
the boat was at a standstill, she picked up her book and began reading
again. Finally she saw her curtains moving while she was reading, but
no one was visible. She again looked out and saw a man whose face was
blanched, his eyes protruding, wearing the look of a haunted creature.
He was gasping for breath and in an undertone gasped, “Get your life
preserver.” He was one of the buyers for Gimbel Bros., of Paris and
New York.

She got down her life preserver, snatched up her furs and hurriedly
mounted the stairs to A Deck, where she found passengers putting on
lifebelts like hers. Mrs. Bucknell approached and whispered, “Didn’t I
tell you something was going to happen?” She found the lifeboats
lowered from the falls and made flush with the deck. Madame de
Villiers appeared from below in a nightdress and evening slippers,
with no stockings. She wore a long woollen motorcoat. Touching Mrs.
Brown’s arm, in a terrified voice she said she was going below for her
money and valuables. After much persuasion Mrs. Brown prevailed upon
her not to do so, but to get into the boat. She hesitated and became
very much excited, but was finally prevailed upon to enter the
lifeboat. Mrs. Brown was walking away, eager to see what was being
done elsewhere. Suddenly she saw a shadow and a few seconds later
someone seized her, saying: “You are going, too,” and she was dropped
fully four feet into the lowering lifeboat. There was but one man in
charge of the boat. As it was lowered by jerks by an officer above,
she discovered that a great gush of water was spouting through the
porthole from D Deck, and the lifeboat was in grave danger of being
submerged. She immediately grasped an oar and held the lifeboat away
from the ship.

When the sea was reached, smooth as glass, she looked up and saw the
benign, resigned countenance, the venerable white hair and the
Chesterfieldian bearing of the beloved Captain Smith with whom she had
crossed twice before, and only three months previous on the _Olympic_.
He peered down upon those in the boat, like a solicitous father, and
directed them to row to the light in the distance--all boats keeping
together.

Because of the fewness of men in the boat she found it necessary for
someone to bend to the oars. She placed her oar in an oarlock and
asked a young woman nearby to hold one while she placed the other on
the further side. To Mrs. Brown’s surprise, the young lady (who must
have been Miss Norton, spoken of elsewhere), immediately began to row
like a galley slave, every stroke counting. Together they managed to
pull away from the steamer.

By this time E and C Decks were completely submerged. Those ladies who
had husbands, sons or fathers on the doomed steamer buried their heads
on the shoulders of those near them and moaned and groaned. Mrs.
Brown’s eyes were glued on the fast-disappearing ship. Suddenly there
was a rift in the water, the sea opened up and the surface foamed like
giant arms and spread around the ship and the vessel disappeared from
sight, and not a sound was heard.

Then follows Mrs. Brown’s account of the conduct of the quartermaster
in the boat which will be found under the heading presently given, and
it will be noticed that her statements correspond with those of all
others in the boat.

The dawn disclosed the awful situation. There were fields of ice on
which, like points on the landscape, rested innumerable pyramids of
ice. Seemingly a half hour later, the sun, like a ball of molten lead,
appeared in the background. The hand of nature portrayed a scenic
effect beyond the ken of the human mind. The heretofore smooth sea
became choppy and retarded their progress. All the while the people in
boat No. 6 saw the other small lifeboats being hauled aboard the
_Carpathia_. By the time their boat reached the _Carpathia_ a heavy
sea was running, and, No. 6 boat being among the last to approach, it
was found difficult to get close to the ship. Three or four
unsuccessful attempts were made. Each time they were dashed against
the keel, and bounded off like a rubber ball. A rope was then thrown
down, which was spliced in four at the bottom, and a Jacob’s ladder
was made. Catching hold, they were hoisted up, where a dozen of the
crew and officers and doctors were waiting. They were caught and
handled as tenderly as though they were children.


HITCHENS’ CONDUCT

Major Peuchen (Am. Inq., p. 334) continued:

There was an officers’ call, sort of a whistle, calling us to come
back to the boat. The quartermaster told us to stop rowing. We all
thought we ought to go back to the ship, but the quartermaster said
“No, we are not going back to the boat; it is our lives now, not
theirs.” It was the women who rebelled against this action. I asked
him to assist us in rowing and let some of the women steer the boat,
as it was a perfectly calm night and no skill was required. He
refused, and told me he was in command of that boat and that I was to
row.

He imagined he saw a light. I have done a great deal of yachting in my
life. I have owned a yacht for six years. I saw a reflection. He
thought it was a boat of some kind; probably it might be a buoy, and
he called out to the next boat asking them if they knew any buoys were
around there. This struck me as being perfectly absurd.

I heard what seemed to be one, two, three rumbling sounds; then the
lights of the ship went out. Then the terrible cries and calls for
help--moaning and crying. It affected all the women in our boat whose
husbands were among those in the water. This went on for some time,
gradually getting fainter and fainter. At first it was horrible to
listen to. We must have been five-eighths of a mile away when this
took place. There were only two of us rowing a very heavy boat with a
good many people in it, and I do not think we covered very much
ground. Some of the women in the boat urged the quartermaster to
return. He said there was no use going back,--that there were only a
“lot of stiffs there.” The women resented it very much.

       *       *       *       *       *

Seaman Fleet (Am. Inq., p. 363):

All the women asked us to pull to the place where the _Titanic_ went
down, but the quartermaster, who was at the tiller all the time, would
not allow it. They asked him, but he would not hear of it.

       *       *       *       *       *

Mrs. Candee continues:

Hitchens was cowardly and almost crazed with fear all the time. After
we left the ship he thought he heard the captain say: “Come
alongside,” and was for turning back until reminded by the passengers
that the captain’s final orders were: “Keep boats together and row
away from the ship.” She heard this order given.

After that he constantly reminded us who were at the oars that if we
did not make better speed with our rowing we would all be sucked
under the water by the foundering of the ship. This he repeated
whenever our muscles flagged.

Directly the _Titanic_ had foundered a discussion arose as to whether
we should return. Hitchens said our boat would immediately be swamped
if we went into the confusion. The reason for this was that our boat
was not manned with enough oars.

Then after the sinking of the _Titanic_ Hitchens reminded us
frequently that we were hundreds of miles from land, without water,
without food, without protection against cold, and if a storm should
come up that we would be helpless. Therefore, we faced death by
starvation or by drowning. He said we did not even know the direction
in which we were rowing. I corrected him by pointing to the north star
immediately over our bow.

When our boat came alongside No. 16, Hitchens immediately ordered the
boats lashed together. He resigned the helm and settled down to rest.
When the _Carpathia_ hove in sight he ordered that we drift.
Addressing the people in both boats Mrs. Candee said: “Where those
lights are lies our salvation; shall we not go towards them?” The
reply was a murmur of approval and immediate recourse to the oars.

Hitchens was requested to assist in the toilsome rowing. Women tried
to taunt and provoke him into activity. When it was suggested that he
permit the injured boy to take the tiller and that Hitchens should
row, he declined, and in every case he refused labor. He spoke with
such uncivility to one of the ladies that a man’s voice was heard in
rebuke: “You are speaking to a lady,” to which he replied: “I know
whom I am speaking to, and I am commanding this boat.”

When asked if the _Carpathia_ would come and pick us up he replied:
“No, she is not going to pick us up; she is to pick up bodies.” This
when said to wives and mothers of the dead men was needlessly brutal.

When we neared the _Carpathia_ he refused to go round on the smooth
side because it necessitated keeping longer in the rough sea, so we
made a difficult landing.

       *       *       *       *       *

In Mrs. Brown’s account of her experience she relates the following
about the conduct of the quartermaster in charge of the boat in which
she was:

He, Quartermaster Hitchens, was at the rudder and standing much higher
than we were, shivering like an aspen. As they rowed away from the
ship he burst out in a frightened voice and warned them of the fate
that awaited them, saying that the task in rowing away from the
sinking ship was futile, as she was so large that in sinking she would
draw everything for miles around down with her suction, and, if they
escaped that, the boilers would burst and rip up the bottom of the
sea, tearing the icebergs asunder and completely submerging them. They
were truly doomed either way. He dwelt upon the dire fate awaiting
them, describing the accident that happened to the S. S. _New York_
when the _Titanic_ left the docks at Southampton.

  [Illustration: THE TITANIC NARROWLY ESCAPES COLLISION AT
      SOUTHAMPTON
    _Photograph by Brown Bros., New York_]

After the ship had sunk and none of the calamities that were predicted
by the terrified quartermaster were experienced, he was asked to
return and pick up those in the water. Again the people in the boat
were admonished and told how the frantic drowning victims would
grapple the sides of the boat and capsize it. He not yielding to the
entreaties, those at the oars pulled away vigorously towards a faintly
glimmering light on the horizon. After three hours of pulling the
light grew fainter, and then completely disappeared. Then this
quartermaster, who stood on his pinnacle trembling, with an attitude
like some one preaching to the multitude, fanning the air with his
hands, recommenced his tirade of awful forebodings, telling those in
the boat that they were likely to drift for days, all the while
reminding them that they were surrounded by icebergs, as he pointed to
a pyramid of ice looming up in the distance, possibly seventy feet
high. He forcibly impressed upon them that there was no water in the
casks in the lifeboats, and no bread, no compass and no chart. No one
answered him. All seemed to be stricken dumb. One of the ladies in the
boat had had the presence of mind to procure her silver brandy flask.
As she held it in her hand the silver glittered and he being attracted
to it implored her to give it to him, saying that he was frozen. She
refused the brandy, but removed her steamer blanket and placed it
around his shoulders, while another lady wrapped a second blanket
around his waist and limbs, he looking “as snug as a bug in a rug.”

The quartermaster was then asked to relieve one or the other of those
struggling at the oars, as someone else could manage the rudder while
he rowed. He flatly refused and continued to lampoon them, shouting:
“Here, you fellow on the starboard side, your oar is not being put in
the water at the right angle.” No one made any protest to his
outbursts, as he broke the monotony, but they continued to pull at the
oars with no goal in sight. Presently he raised his voice and shouted
to another lifeboat to pull near and lash alongside, commanding some
of the other ladies to take the light and signal to the other
lifeboats. His command was immediately obeyed. He also gave another
command to drop the oars and lay to. Some time later, after more
shouts, a lifeboat hove to and obeyed his orders to throw a rope, and
was tied alongside. On the cross-seat of that boat stood a man in
white pajamas, looking like a snow man in that icy region. His teeth
were chattering and he appeared quite numb. Seeing his predicament,
Mrs. Brown told him he had better get to rowing and keep his blood in
circulation. But the suggestion met with a forcible protest from the
quartermaster in charge. Mrs. Brown and her companions at the oars,
after their exercise, felt the blasts from the ice-fields and demanded
that they should be allowed to row to keep warm.

Over into their boat jumped a half-frozen stoker, black and covered
with dust. As he was dressed in thin jumpers, she picked up a large
sable stole which she had dropped into the boat and wrapped it around
his limbs from his waist down and tied the tails around his ankles.
She handed him an oar and told the pajama man to cut loose. A howl
arose from the quartermaster in charge. He moved to prevent it, and
Mrs. Brown told him if he did he would be thrown overboard. Someone
laid a hand on her shoulder to stay her threats, but she knew it would
not be necessary to push him over, for had she only moved in the
quartermaster’s direction, he would have tumbled into the sea, so
paralyzed was he with fright. By this time he had worked himself up to
a pitch of sheer despair, fearing that a scramble of any kind would
remove the plug from the bottom of the boat. He then became very
impertinent, and our fur-enveloped stoker in as broad a cockney as one
hears in the Haymarket shouted: “Oi sy, don’t you know you are talkin’
to a lidy?” For the time being the seaman was silenced and we resumed
our task at the oars. Two other ladies came to the rescue.

While glancing around watching the edge of the horizon, the
beautifully modulated voice of the young Englishwoman at the oar (Miss
Norton) exclaimed, “There is a flash of lightning.” “It is a falling
star,” replied our pessimistic seaman. As it became brighter he was
then convinced that it was a ship. However, the distance, as we rowed,
seemed interminable. We saw the ship was anchored. Again the
declaration was made that we, regardless of what our quartermaster
said, would row toward her, and the young Englishwoman from the Thames
got to work, accompanying her strokes with cheerful words to the
wilted occupants of the boat.

Mrs. Brown finishes the quartermaster in her final account of him. On
entering the dining-room on the _Carpathia_, she saw him in one
corner--this brave and heroic seaman! A cluster of people were around
him as he wildly gesticulated, trying to impress upon them what
difficulty he had in maintaining discipline among the occupants of his
boat; but on seeing Mrs. Brown and a few others of the boat nearby he
did not tarry long, but made a hasty retreat.

       *       *       *       *       *

R. Hitchens, Q. M. (Am. Inq., p. 451. Br. Inq.) explains his conduct:

I was put in charge of No. 6 by the Second Officer, Mr. Lightoller. We
lowered away from the ship. I told them in the boat somebody would
have to pull. There was no use stopping alongside the ship, which was
gradually going by the head. We were in a dangerous place, so I told
them to man the oars--ladies and all. “All of you do your best.” I
relieved one of the young ladies with an oar and told her to take the
tiller. She immediately let the boat come athwart, and the ladies in
the boat got very nervous; so I took the tiller back again and told
them to manage the best way they could. The lady I refer to, Mrs.
Meyer, was rather vexed with me in the boat and I spoke rather
straight to her. She accused me of wrapping myself up in the blankets
in the boat, using bad language and drinking all the whisky, which I
deny, sir. I was standing to attention, exposed, steering the boat all
night, which is a very cold billet. I would rather be pulling the boat
than be steering, but I saw no one there to steer, so I thought, being
in charge of the boat, it was the best way to steer myself, especially
when I saw the ladies get very nervous.

I do not remember that the women urged me to go toward the _Titanic_.
I did not row toward the scene of the _Titanic_ because the suction of
the ship would draw the boat, with all its occupants, under water. I
did not know which way to go back to the _Titanic_. I was looking at
all the other boats. We were looking at each other’s lights. After the
lights disappeared and went out, we did hear cries of distress--a lot
of crying, moaning and screaming, for two or three minutes. We made
fast to another boat--that of the master-at-arms. It was No. 16. I had
thirty-eight women in my boat. I counted them, sir. One seaman, Fleet;
the Canadian Major, who testified here yesterday, myself and the
Italian boy.

We got down to the _Carpathia_ and I saw every lady and everybody out
of the boat, and I saw them carefully hoisted on board the
_Carpathia_, and I was the last man to leave the boat.


BOAT NO. 8.[8]

    [8] British Report (p. 38) puts this boat second on port side at
    1.10. Notwithstanding Seaman Fleet’s testimony (Am. Inq., p.
    363), I think she must have preceded No. 6.

_No male passengers in this boat._

_Passengers:_ Mrs. Bucknell and her maid (Albina Bazzani); Miss
Cherry, Mrs. Kenyon, Miss Leader, Mrs. Pears, Mrs. Penasco and her
maid (Mlle. Olivia); Countess Rothes and her maid (Miss Maloney); Mrs.
Swift, Mrs. Taussig, Miss Taussig, Mrs. White and her maid (Amelia
Bessetti); Mrs. Wick, Miss Wick, Miss Young and Mrs. Straus’ maid
(Ellen Bird).

Women: 24.

_Said good-bye to wives and sank with the ship:_ Messrs. Kenyon,
Pears, Penasco, Taussig and Wick.

_Crew:_ Seaman T. Jones, Stewards Crawford and Hart, and a cook.

_Total:_ 28.


INCIDENTS

T. Jones, seaman (Am. Inq., p. 570).

The captain asked me if the plug was in the boat and I answered, “Yes,
sir.” “All right,” he said, “any more ladies?” He shouted twice
again, “Any more ladies?”

I pulled for the light, but I found that I could not get to it; so I
stood by for a while. I wanted to return to the ship, but the ladies
were frightened. In all, I had thirty-five ladies and three stewards,
Crawford, Hart and another. There were no men who offered to get in
the boat. I did not see any children, and very few women when we left
the ship. There was one old lady there and an old gentleman, her
husband. She wanted him to enter the boat with her but he backed away.
She never said anything; if she did, we could not hear it, because the
steam was blowing so and making such a noise.[9]

    [9] By the testimony of the witness and Steward Crawford it
    appears that Mr. and Mrs. Straus approached this boat and their
    maid got in, but Mr. Straus would not follow his wife and she
    refused to leave him.

Senator Newlands: Can you give me the names of any passengers on this
boat?

Witness: One lady--she had a lot to say and I put her to steering the
boat.

Senator Newlands: What was her name?

Witness: Lady Rothes; she was a countess, or something.

       *       *       *       *       *

A. Crawford, steward (Am. Inq., pp. 111, 827, 842).

After we struck I went out and saw the iceberg, a large black object,
much higher than B Deck, passing along the starboard side. We filled
No. 8 with women. Captain Smith and a steward lowered the forward
falls. Captain Smith told me to get in. He gave orders to row for the
light and to land the people there and come back to the ship. The
Countess Rothes was at the tiller all night. There were two lights not
further than ten miles--stationary masthead lights. Everybody saw
them--all the ladies in the boat. They asked if we were drawing nearer
to the steamer, but we could not seem to make any headway, and near
daybreak we saw another steamer coming up, which proved to be the
_Carpathia_, and then we turned around and came back. We were the
furthest boat away. I am sure it was a steamer, because a sailing
vessel would not have had two masthead lights.

       *       *       *       *       *

Mrs. J. Stuart White (Am. Inq., p. 1008).

Senator Smith: Did you see anything after the accident bearing on the
discipline of the officers or crew, or their conduct which you desire
to speak of?

Mrs. White: Before we cut loose from the ship these stewards took out
cigarettes and lighted them. On an occasion like that! That is one
thing I saw. All of these men escaped under the pretence of being
oarsmen. The man who rowed near me took his oar and rowed all over the
boat in every direction. I said to him: “Why don’t you put the oar in
the oarlock?” He said: “Do you put it in that hole?” I said:
“Certainly.” He said: “I never had an oar in my hand before.” I spoke
to the other man and he said: “I have never had an oar in my hand
before, but I think I can row.” These were the men we were put to sea
with, that night--with all those magnificent fellows left on board who
would have been such a protection to us--those were the kind of men
with whom we were put to sea that night! There were twenty-two women
and four men in my boat. None of the men seemed to understand the
management of a boat except one who was at the end of our boat and
gave the orders. The officer who put us in the boat gave strict orders
to make for the light opposite, land passengers and then get back just
as soon as possible. That was the light everybody saw in the distance.
I saw it distinctly. It was ten miles away, but we rowed, and rowed,
and rowed, and then we all decided that it was impossible for us to
get to it, and the thing to do was to go back and see what we could do
for the others. We had only twenty-two in our boat. We turned and went
back and lingered around for a long time. We could not locate the
other boats except by hearing them. The only way to look was by my
electric light. I had an electric cane with an electric light in it.
The lamp in the boat was worth absolutely nothing. There was no
excitement whatever on the ship. Nobody seemed frightened. Nobody was
panic-stricken. There was a lot of pathos when husbands and wives
kissed each other good-bye.

We were the second boat (No. 8) that got away from the ship and we saw
nothing that happened after that. We were not near enough. We heard
the yells of the passengers as they went down, but we saw none of the
harrowing part of it. The women in our boat all rowed--every one of
them. Miss Young rowed every minute. The men (the stewards) did not
know the first thing about it and could not row. Mrs. Swift rowed all
the way to the _Carpathia_. Countess Rothes stood at the tiller. Where
would we have been if it had not been for the women, with such men as
were put in charge of the boat? Our head seaman was giving orders and
these men knew nothing about a boat. They would say: “If you don’t
stop talking through that hole in your face there will be one less in
the boat.” We were in the hands of men of that kind. I settled two or
three fights between them and quieted them down. Imagine getting
right out there and taking out a pipe and smoking it, which was most
dangerous. We had woollen rugs all around us. There was another thing
which I thought a disgraceful point. The men were asked when they got
in if they could row. Imagine asking men who are supposed to be at the
head of lifeboats if they can row!

Senator Smith: There were no male passengers in your boat?

Mrs. White: Not one. I never saw a finer body of men in my life than
the men passengers on this ship--athletes and men of sense--and if
they had been permitted to enter these lifeboats with their families,
the boats would have been properly manned and many more lives saved,
instead of allowing stewards to get in the boats and save their lives
under the pretence that they could row when they knew nothing about
it.


BOAT NO. 10.[10]

    [10] British Report (p. 38) says third at 1.20. I think No. 6
    went later, though Buley (Am. Inq., p. 604) claims No. 10 as the
    last lifeboat lowered.

_No male passengers in this boat._

_Passengers:_ First cabin, Miss Andrews, Miss Longley, Mrs. Hogeboom.
Second cabin, Mrs. Parrish, Mrs. Shelley. 41 women, 7 children.

_Crew:_ Seamen: Buley (in charge), Evans; Fireman Rice; Stewards
Burke and one other.

_Stowaway:_ 1 Japanese.

_Jumped from A Deck into boat being lowered:_ 1 Armenian.

_Total:_ 55.


INCIDENTS

Edward J. Buley, A. B. (Am. Inq., p. 604).

Chief Officer Wilde said: “See if you can find another seaman to give
you a hand, and jump in.” I found Evans, my mate, the able-bodied
seaman, and we both got in the boat.

       *       *       *       *       *

Much of Seaman Buley’s and of Steward Burke’s testimony is a
repetition of that of Seaman Evans, so I cite the latter only:

F. O. Evans, A. B. (Am. Inq., p. 675).

I went up (on the Boat Deck) with the remainder of the crew and
uncovered all of the port boats. Then to the starboard side and
lowered the boats there with the assistance of the Boatswain of the
ship, A. Nichol. I went next (after No. 12) to No. 10. Mr. Murdoch was
standing there. I lowered the boat with the assistance of a steward.
The chief officer said: “Get into that boat.” I got into the bows. A
young ship’s baker (J. Joughin) was getting the children and chucking
them into the boat. Mr. Murdoch and the baker made the women jump
across into the boat about two feet and a half. “He threw them on to
the women and he was catching children by their dresses and chucking
them in.” One woman in a black dress slipped and fell. She seemed
nervous and did not like to jump at first. When she did jump she did
not go far enough, but fell between the ship and the boat. She was
pulled in by some men on the deck below, went up to the Boat Deck
again, took another jump, and landed safely in the boat. There were
none of the children hurt. The only accident was with this woman. The
only man passenger was a foreigner, up forward. He, as the boat was
being lowered, jumped from A Deck into the boat--deliberately jumped
across and saved himself.

When we got to the water it was impossible to get to the tripper
underneath the thwart on account of women being packed so tight. We
had to lift the fall up off the hook by hand to release the spring to
get the block and fall away from it. We pushed off from the ship and
rowed away about 200 yards. We tied up to three other boats. We gave
the man our painter and made fast to No. 12. We stopped there about an
hour, and Officer Lowe came over with his boat No. 14 and said: “You
seamen will have to distribute these passengers among these boats. Tie
them together and come into my boat to go over to the wreckage and
pick up anyone that is alive there.”

Witness testified that the larger lifeboats would hold sixty people.

Senator Smith: Do you wish to be understood that each lifeboat like
Nos. 12 and 14 and 10 could be filled to its fullest capacity and
lowered to the water with safety?

Mr. Evans: Yes, because we did it then, sir.

Senator Smith: That is a pretty good answer.

Mr. Evans: It was my first experience in seeing a boat loaded like
that, sir.

The stern of the ship, after plunging forward, remained floating in a
perpendicular position about four or five minutes.

       *       *       *       *       *

W. Burke, dining-room steward (Am. Inq., p. 822).

I went to my station and found that my boat, No. 1, had gone. Then to
the port side and assisted with No. 8 boat and saw her lowered. Then I
passed to No. 10. The officer said, “Get right in there,” and pushed
me toward the boat, and I got in. When there were no women to be had
around the deck the officer gave the order for the boat to be lowered.

After the two seamen (Buley and Evans) were transferred to boat No.
14, some of the women forward said to me: “There are two men down here
in the bottom of the boat.” I got hold of them and pulled one out. He
apparently was a Japanese and could not speak English. I put him at an
oar. The other appeared to be an Italian. I tried to speak to him but
he said: “Armenian.” I also put him at an oar. I afterwards made fast
to an officer’s boat--I think it was Mr. Lightoller’s (i. e., No. 12).

       *       *       *       *       *

Mrs. Imanita Shelley’s affidavit (Am. Inq., p. 1146).

Mrs. Shelley with her mother, Mrs. L. D. Parrish, were second cabin
passengers. Mrs. Shelley had been sick and it was with difficulty that
she reached the deck, where she was assisted to a chair. After some
time a sailor ran to her and implored her to get in the lifeboat that
was then being launched--one of the last on the ship. Pushing her
mother toward the sailor, Mrs. Shelley made for the davits where the
boat hung.

There was a space of between four or five feet between the edge of the
deck and the suspended boat. The sailor picked up Mrs. Parrish and
threw her bodily into the boat. Mrs. Shelley jumped and landed safely.
There were a fireman and a ship’s baker among the crew at the time of
launching. The boat was filled with women and children, as many as
could get in without overcrowding. There was trouble with the tackle
and the ropes had to be cut.

Just as they reached the water, a crazed Italian jumped from the deck
into the lifeboat, landing on Mrs. Parrish, severely bruising her
right side and leg.

Orders had been given to keep in sight of the ship’s boat which had
been sent out ahead to look for help. Throughout the entire period,
from the time of the collision and taking to the boats, the ship’s
crew behaved in an ideal manner. Not a man tried to get into a boat
unless ordered to, and many were seen to strip off their clothing and
wrap it around the women and children, who came up half-clad from
their beds. Mrs. Shelley says that no crew could have behaved in a
more perfect manner.

       *       *       *       *       *

J. Joughin, head baker (Br. Inq.)

Chief Officer Wilde shouted to the stewards to keep the men passengers
back, but there was no necessity for the order as they were keeping
back. The order was splendid. The stewards, firemen and sailors got in
line and passed the ladies in; and then we had difficulty to find
ladies to go into the boat. No distinction at all as to class was
made. I saw a number of third-class women with their bags, which they
would not let go.

The boat was let down and the women were forcibly drawn into it. The
boat was a yard and a half from the ship’s side. There was a slight
list and we had to drop them in. The officer ordered two sailors and a
steward to get in.


BOAT NO. 12.[11]

    [11] British Report (p. 38) says this was the fourth boat
    lowered on port side at 1.25 A. M.

_No male passengers in this boat._

_Passengers:_ Miss Phillips. Women and children, 40.

_Bade good-bye to his daughter and sank with the ship:_ Mr. Phillips.

_Crew:_ Seamen Poigndestre (in charge), F. Clench. Later, Lucas and
two firemen were transferred from boat “D.”

_Jumped from deck below as boat was lowered:_ 1 Frenchman.

_Total:_ 43.

Transfers were made to this boat _first_ from Engelhardt “D” and
_second_, from Engelhardt upset boat “B,” so that it reached the
_Carpathia’s_ side with seventy, or more.


INCIDENTS

F. Clench, A. B. (Am. Inq., p. 636).

The second officer and myself stood on the gunwale and helped load
women and children. The chief officer passed them along to us and we
filled three boats, No. 12 first. In each there were about forty or
fifty people. After finishing No. 16 boat, I went back to No. 12. “How
many men (crew) have you in this boat?” the chief officer said, and I
said, “Only one, sir.” He looked up and said: “Jump into that boat,”
and that made a complement of two seamen. An able seaman was in charge
of this boat. (Poigndestre.) We had instructions to keep our eye on
No. 14 and keep together.

There was only one male passenger in our boat, and that was a
Frenchman who jumped in and we could not find him. He got under the
thwart, mixed up with the women, just as we dropped into the water
before the boat was lowered and without our knowledge. Officer Lowe
transferred some of his people into our boat and others, making close
on to sixty, and pretty full up. When Mr. Lowe was gone I heard
shouts. I looked around and saw a boat in the way that appeared to be
like a funnel; we thought it was the top of a funnel. (It was
Engelhardt overturned boat “B.”) There were about twenty on this, and
we took off approximately ten, making seventy in my boat.

       *       *       *       *       *

John Poigndestre, A. B. (Br. Inq., p. 82).

Lightoller ordered us to lay off and stand by close to the ship. Boat
“D” and three lifeboats made fast to No. 12. Stood off about 100 yards
after ship sank. Not enough sailors to help pick up swimmers. No
light. Transfer of about a dozen women passengers from No. 14 to No.
12. About 150 yards off when _Titanic_ sank. No compass.


BOAT NO. 14.[12]

    [12] British Report (p. 38) says this was the fifth boat on the
    port side, lowered at 1.30.

_No male passengers in this boat._

_Passengers:_ Mrs. Compton, Miss Compton, Mrs. Minahan, Miss Minahan,
Mrs. Collyer, Miss Collyer.

_Picked up out of sea:_ W. F. Hoyt (who died), Steward J. Stewart, and
a plucky Japanese.

Women: 50.

_Volunteer when crew was short:_ C. Williams.

_Crew:_ Fifth Officer Lowe, Seaman Scarrot, 2 firemen, Stewards Crowe
and Morris.

_Stowaway:_ 1 Italian.

_Bade good-bye and sank with ship:_ Dr. Minahan, Mr. Compton, Mr.
Collyer.

_Total:_ 60.


INCIDENTS

H. G. Lowe, Fifth Officer (Am. Inq., p. 116).

Nos. 12, 14 and 16 were down about the same time. I told Mr. Moody
that three boats had gone away and that an officer ought to go with
them. He said: “You go.” There was difficulty in lowering when I got
near the water. I dropped her about five feet, because I was not going
to take the chance of being dropped down upon by somebody. While I was
on the Boat Deck, two men tried to jump into the boat. I chased them
out.

We filled boats 14 and 16 with women and children. Moody filled No. 16
and I filled No. 14. Lightoller was there part of the time. They were
all women and children, barring one passenger, who was an Italian, and
he sneaked in dressed like a woman. He had a shawl over his head.
There was another passenger, a chap by the name of C. Williams, whom I
took for rowing. He gave me his name and address (referring to book),
“C. Williams, Racket Champion of the World, 2 Drury Road,
Harrow-on-the-Hill, Middlesex, England.”

As I was being lowered, I expected every moment that my boat would be
doubled up under my feet. I had overcrowded her, but I knew that I had
to take a certain amount of risk. I thought if one additional body was
to fall into that boat, that slight additional weight might part the
hooks, or carry away something; so as we were coming down past the
open decks, I saw a lot of Latin people all along the ship’s rails.
They were glaring more or less like wild beasts, ready to spring. That
is why I yelled out to “look out,” and let go, bang! right along the
ship’s side. There was a space I should say of about three feet
between the side of the boat and the ship’s side, and as I went down I
fired these shots without any intention of hurting anybody and with
the positive knowledge that I did not hurt anybody. I fired, I think,
three times.

Later, 150 yards away, I herded five boats together. I was in No. 14;
then I had 10, 12, collapsible “D” and one other boat (No. 4), and
made them tie up. I waited until the yells and shrieks had subsided
for the people to thin out, and then I deemed it safe for me to go
amongst the wreckage; so I transferred all my passengers, somewhere
about fifty-three, from my boat and equally distributed them among my
other four boats. Then I asked for volunteers to go with me to the
wreck, and it was at this time that I found the Italian. He came aft
and had a shawl over his head, and I suppose he had skirts. Anyhow, I
pulled the shawl off his face and saw he was a man. He was in a great
hurry to get into the other boat and I got hold of him and pitched him
in.

Senator Smith: Pitched him in?

Mr. Lowe: Yes; because he was not worth being handled better.

Senator Smith: You pitched him in among the women?

Mr. Lowe: No, sir; in the forepart of the lifeboat in which I
transferred my passengers.

Senator Smith: Did you use some pretty emphatic language when you did
this?

Mr. Lowe: No, sir; I did not say a word to him.

Then I went off and rowed to the wreckage and around the wreckage and
picked up four people alive. I do not know who these live persons
were. They never came near me afterwards either to say this or that or
the other. But one died, Mr. W. F. Hoyt, of New York. After we got him
in the boat we took his collar off so as to give him more chance to
breathe, but unfortunately, he died. He was too far gone when we
picked him up. I then left the wreck. I went right around, and,
strange to say, I did not see a single female body around the
wreckage. I did not have a light in my boat. Then I could see the
_Carpathia_ coming up and I thought: “Well, I am the fastest boat of
the lot,” as I was sailing, you see. I was going through the water
four or five knots, bowling along very nicely.

By and by, I noticed a collapsible boat, Engelhardt “D.” It looked
rather sorry, so I thought: “Well, I will go down and pick her up and
make sure of her.” This was Quartermaster Bright’s boat. Mrs. H. B.
Harris, of New York, was in it. She had a broken arm. I had taken this
first collapsible (“D”) in tow and I noticed that there was another
collapsible (“A”) in a worse plight than this one that I had in tow. I
got to her just in time and took off, I suppose, about twenty men and
one lady. I left three male bodies in it. I may have been a bit
hard-hearted in doing this. I thought: “I am not here to worry about
bodies; I am here to save life and not bother about bodies.” The
people on the raft told me these had been dead for some time. I do not
know whether any one endeavored to find anything on their persons that
would identify them, because they were all up to their ankles in water
when I took them off.

  [Illustration: FIFTH OFFICER LOWE TOWING THE CANVAS
      COLLAPSIBLE]

  [Illustration: THE CANVAS COLLAPSIBLE]

       *       *       *       *       *

Joseph Scarrot, A. B. (Br. Inq., pp. 29, 30): I myself took charge of
No. 14 as the only sailorman there. The Chief Officer ordered women
and children to be taken in. Some men came and tried to rush the boat.
They were foreigners and could not understand the orders I gave them,
but I managed to keep them away. I had to use some persuasion with a
boat tiller. One man jumped in twice and I had to throw him out the
third time. I got all the women and children into the boat. There were
fifty-four women and four children--one of them a baby in arms. There
were myself, two firemen, three or four stewards and Mr. Lowe, who got
into the boat. I told him the trouble I had with the men and he
brought out his revolver and fired two shots and said: “If there is
any more trouble I will fire at them.” The shots fired were fired
between the boat and the ship’s side. The after fall got twisted and
we dropped the boat by the releasing gear and got clear of the ship.
There were four men rowing. There was a man in the boat who we thought
was a sailor, but he was not. He was a window cleaner. The _Titanic_
was then about fifty yards off, and we lay there with the other boats.
Mr. Lowe was at the helm. We went in the direction of the cries and
came among hundreds of dead bodies and life belts. We got one man, who
died shortly after he got into the boat. One of the stewards tried to
restore him, but without avail. There was another man who was calling
for help, but among the bodies and wreckage it was too late for us to
reach him. It took half an hour to get to that man. Cannot say
exactly, but think we got about twenty off of the Engelhardt boat
(“A”).

       *       *       *       *       *

E. J. Buley, A. B. (Am. Inq., p. 605):

(After his transfer from No. 10 to No. 14.) Then, with Lowe in his
boat No. 14, I went back to where the _Titanic_ sank and picked up the
remaining live bodies. We got four; all the others were dead. We
turned over several to see if they were alive. It looked as if none of
them were drowned. They looked as if frozen. The life belts they had
on were that much (indicating) out of the water, and their heads lay
back with their faces on the water. They were head and shoulders out
of water, with their heads thrown back. In the morning, after we had
picked up all that were alive, there was a collapsible boat (“A”)
swamped, which we saw with a lot of people up to their knees in water.
We sailed over to them. We then picked up another boat (“D”) and took
her in tow. I think we were about the seventh or eighth boat alongside
the _Carpathia_.

       *       *       *       *       *

F. O. Evans, A. B. (Am. Inq., p. 677):

So from No. 10 we got into his (Lowe’s) boat, No. 14, and went
straight over towards the wreckage with eight or nine men and picked
up four persons alive, one of whom died on the way to the _Carpathia_.
Another picked up was named J. Stewart, a steward. You could not
hardly count the number of dead bodies. I was afraid to look over the
sides because it might break my nerves down. We saw no other people in
the water or heard their cries, other than these four picked up. The
officer said: “Hoist a sail forward.” I did so and made sail in the
direction of the collapsible boat “A” about a mile and a half away,
which had been swamped. There were in it one woman and about ten or
eleven men. Then we picked up another collapsible boat (“D”) and took
her in tow to the _Carpathia_. There were then about twenty-five
people in our boat No. 14, including the one who died.

One of the ladies there passed over a flask of whisky to the people
who were all wet through. She asked if anybody needed the spirits, and
these people were all soaking wet and nearly perished and they passed
it around among these men and women. It took about twenty minutes
after we sighted the _Carpathia_ to get alongside of her. We saw five
or six icebergs--some of them tremendous, about the height of the
_Titanic_--and field ice. After we got on the _Carpathia_ we saw, at a
rough estimate, a twenty-five mile floe, sir, flat like the floor.

       *       *       *       *       *

F. Crowe, steward (Am. Inq., p. 615):

I assisted in handing the women and children into boat No. 12, and was
asked if I could take an oar. I said: “Yes,” and was told to man the
boat, I believe, by Mr. Murdoch. After getting the women and children
in we lowered down to within four or five feet of the water, and then
the block and tackle got twisted in some way, causing us to have to
cut the ropes to allow the boat to get into the water. This officer,
Lowe, told us to do this. He was in the boat with us. I stood by the
lever--the lever releasing the blocks from the hooks in the boat. He
told me to wait, to get away and cut the line to raise the lever,
thereby causing the hooks to open and allow the boat to drop in the
water.

There was some shooting that occurred at the time the boat was
lowered. There were various men passengers, probably Italians or some
foreign nationality other than English or American, who attempted to
“rush” the boats. The officers threatened to shoot any man who put his
foot into the boat. An officer fired a revolver, but either downward
or upward, not shooting at any one of the passengers at all and not
injuring anybody. He fired perfectly clear upward and downward and
stopped the rush. There was no disorder after that. One woman cried,
but that was all. There was no panic or anything in the boat.

After getting into the water I pushed out to the other boats. In No.
14 there were fifty-seven women and children and about six men,
including one officer, and I may have been seven. I am not quite sure.
I know how many, because when we got out a distance the officer asked
me how many people were in the boat.

When the boat was released and fell I think she must have sprung a
leak. A lady stated that there was some water coming up over her
ankles. Two men and this lady assisted in bailing it out with bails
that were kept in the boat for that purpose. We transferred our people
to other boats so as to return to the wreck and see if we could pick
up anybody else. Returning to the wreck, we heard various cries and
endeavored to get among them, and we were successful in doing so, and
picked up one body that was floating around in the water. It was that
of a man and he expired shortly afterwards. Going further into the
wreckage we came across a steward (J. Stewart) and got him into the
boat. He was very cold and his hands were kind of stiff. He recovered
by the time that we got back to the _Carpathia_.

A Japanese or Chinese young fellow that we picked up on top of some
wreckage, which may have been a sideboard or a table that was floating
around, also survived.[13] We stopped (in the wreckage) until
daybreak, and we saw in the distance an Engelhardt collapsible boat
(“A”) with a crew of men in it. We went over to the boat and found
twenty men and one woman; also three dead bodies, which we left.
Returning under sail we took another collapsible boat in tow (boat
“D”) containing fully sixty people, women and children.

    [13] Undoubtedly reference is here made to the same Japanese
    described in an account attributed to a second-class passenger,
    Mrs. Collyer, and which follows Crowe’s testimony.

I did not see the iceberg that struck the ship. When it came daylight
and we could see, there were two or three bergs around, and one man
pointed out that that must have been the berg, and another man pointed
out another berg. Really, I do not think anybody knew which one struck
the ship.

       *       *       *       *       *

Mrs. Charlotte Collyer, third-class passenger, in The Semi-Monthly
Magazine, May, 1912:

A little further on we saw a floating door that must have been torn
loose when the ship went down. Lying upon it, face downward, was a
small Japanese. He had lashed himself with a rope to his frail raft,
using the broken hinges to make the knots secure. As far as we could
see, he was dead. The sea washed over him every time the door bobbed
up and down, and he was frozen stiff. He did not answer when he was
hailed, and the officer hesitated about trying to save him.

“What’s the use?” said Mr. Lowe. “He’s dead, likely, and if he isn’t
there’s others better worth saving than a Jap!”

He had actually turned our boat around, but he changed his mind and
went back. The Japanese was hauled on board, and one of the women
rubbed his chest, while others chafed his hands and feet. In less time
than it takes to tell, he opened his eyes. He spoke to us in his own
tongue; then, seeing that we did not understand, he struggled to his
feet, stretched his arms above his head, stamped his feet and in five
minutes or so had almost recovered his strength. One of the sailors
near to him was so tired that he could hardly pull his oar. The
Japanese bustled over, pushed him from his seat, took his oar and
worked like a hero until we were finally picked up. I saw Mr. Lowe
watching him in open-mouthed surprise.

“By Jove!” muttered the officer, “I’m ashamed of what I said about the
little blighter. I’d save the likes o’ him six times over if I got the
chance.”

       *       *       *       *       *

Miss Minahan’s affidavit (Am. Inq., p. 1109):

After the _Titanic_ went down the cries were horrible. Some of the
women implored Officer Lowe of No. 10 to divide his passengers among
the three other boats and go back to rescue them. His first answer to
these requests was: “You ought to be d---- glad you are here and have
got your own life.” After some time he was persuaded to do as he was
asked. As I came up to him to be transferred to the other boat, he
said: “Jump, G--d d--n you, jump.” I had shown no hesitancy and was
waiting until my turn. He had been so blasphemous during the hours we
were in his boat that the women in my end of the boat all thought he
was under the influence of liquor. (Testimony elsewhere shows that
Officer Lowe is a teetotaler.) Then he took all the men who had rowed
No. 14, together with the men from other boats, and went back to the
scene of the wreck. We were left with a steward and a stoker to row
our boat, which was crowded. The steward did his best, but the stoker
refused at first to row, but finally helped two men who were the only
ones pulling on that side. It was just four o’clock when we sighted
the _Carpathia_, and we were three hours getting to her. On the
_Carpathia_ we were treated with every kindness and given every
comfort possible.

       *       *       *       *       *

The above affidavit being of record shows Officer Lowe in an
unfortunate, bad light. There is no doubt of it that he was
intemperate in his language only. In all other respects he was a
first-class officer, as proven by what he accomplished. But I am glad
that I have the account of another lady passenger in the same boat,
which is a tribute to what he did. I met Officer Lowe in Washington
the time that both of us were summoned before the U. S. Court of
Inquiry, and I am quite sure that the only point against him is that
he was a little hasty in speech in the accomplishment of his work.

Miss Compton, who lost her brother, I had the pleasure of meeting on
the _Carpathia_. She is still a sufferer from injuries received in the
wreck, and yet has been very kind in sending me an account of her
experience, from which I cite the following:

As she stood on the rail to step into boat No. 14 it was impossible
to see whether she would step into the boat or into the water. She was
pushed into the boat with such violence that she found herself on her
hands and knees, but fortunately landed on a coil of rope. This seemed
to be the general experience of the women. All the passengers entered
the lifeboat at the same point and were told to move along to make
place for those who followed. This was difficult, as the thwarts were
so high that it was difficult to climb over them, encumbered as the
ladies were with lifebelts. It was a case of throwing one’s self over
rather than climbing over.

Miss Compton from her place in the stern of the lifeboat overheard the
conversation between Officer Lowe and another officer, which the
former gave in his testimony.

Just before the boat was lowered a man jumped in. He was immediately
hauled out. Mr. Lowe then pulled his revolver and said: “If anyone
else tries that this is what he will get.” He then fired his revolver
in the air.

She mentions the same difficulties, elsewhere recorded, about the
difficulties in lowering the boat, first the stern very high, and then
the bow; also how the ropes were cut and No. 14 struck the water hard.
At this time the count showed 58 in the boat, and a later one made
the number 60. A child near her answered in neither of the counts.

“Mr. Lowe’s manly bearing,” she says, “gave us all confidence. As I
look back now he seems to me to personify the best traditions of the
British sailor. He asked us all to try and find a lantern, but none
was to be found. Mr. Lowe had with him, however, an electric light
which he flashed from time to time. Almost at once the boat began to
leak and in a few moments the women in the forward part of the boat
were standing in water. There was nothing to bail with and I believe
the men used their hats.

“Officer Lowe insisted on having the mast put up. He crawled forward
and in a few moments the mast was raised and ready. He said this was
necessary as no doubt with dawn there would be a breeze. He returned
to his place and asked the stewards and firemen, who were acting as
crew, if they had any matches, and insisted on having them passed to
him. He then asked if they had any tobacco and said: ‘Keep it in your
pockets, for tobacco makes you thirsty.’ Mr. Lowe wished to remain
near the ship that he might have a chance to help someone after she
sank. Some of the women protested and he replied: ‘I don’t like to
leave her, but if you feel that way about it we will pull away a
little distance.’”

Miss Compton’s account corroborates other information about boat No.
14, which we have elsewhere. She was among the number transferred to
Engelhardt boat “D.” “I now found myself,” she said, “in the stern of
a collapsible boat. In spite of Mr. Lowe’s warning the four small
boats began to separate, each going its own way. Soon it seemed as
though our boat was the only one on the sea. We went through a great
deal of wreckage. The men who were supposed to be rowing--one was a
fireman--made no effort to keep away from it. They were all the time
looking towards the horizon. With daylight we saw the _Carpathia_, and
not so very long afterwards Officer Lowe, sailing towards us, for, as
he had predicted, quite a strong breeze had sprung up. We caught the
rope which he threw us from the stern of his boat. Someone in ours
succeeded in catching it and we were taken in tow to the _Carpathia_.”


BOAT NO. 16.[14]

    [14] British Report (p. 38) gives this as the sixth boat lowered
    from the port side at 1.35 A. M.

_No male passengers._

_Passengers:_ Fifty women and children--second and third-class.

_Crew:_ Master-at-arms Bailey in charge. Seaman Archer, Steward
Andrews, Stewardess Leather, and two others.

_Total:_ 56.


INCIDENTS

E. Archer, A. B. (Am. Inq., p. 645):

I assisted in getting Nos. 12, 14 and 16 out--getting the falls and
everything ready and passengers into No. 14. Then I went to No. 16. I
saw that the plug was in tight. I never saw any man get in, only my
mate. I heard the officer give orders to lower the boat and to allow
nobody in it, having fifty passengers and only my mate and myself. The
master-at-arms came down after us; he was the coxswain and took
charge. When we were loading the boat there was no effort on the part
of others to crowd into it; no confusion at all. No individual men, or
others were repelled from getting in; everything was quiet and steady.
One of the lady passengers suggested going back to see if there were
any people in the water we could get, but I never heard any more of it
after that. There was one lady in the boat, a stewardess (Mrs.
Leather) who tried to assist in rowing. I told her it was not
necessary, but she said she would like to do it to keep herself warm.
There was one fireman found in the boat after we got clear. I do not
know how he came there. He was transferred to another boat (No. 6) to
help row.

       *       *       *       *       *

C. E. Andrews, steward (Am. Inq., p. 623):

Besides these six men I should think there were about fifty
passengers.

There was no effort on the part of the steerage men to get into our
boat. I was told by the officer to allow none in it. When the officer
started to fill the boat with passengers and the men to man it, there
were no individuals who tried to get in, or that he permitted to get
in. There was no confusion whatever. The officer asked me if I could
take an oar. I said I could.


BOAT NO. 2.[15]

    [15] British Report (p. 38) gives this as the seventh boat
    lowered on the port side at 1.45 A. M.

Only one old man, third-class, a foreigner in this boat.

_Passengers:_ Miss Allen (now Mrs. J. B. Mennell), Mrs. Appleton, Mrs.
Cornell, Mrs. Douglas and maid (Miss Le Roy), Miss Madill, Mrs. Robert
and maid (Amelia Kenchen). One old man, third-class, foreigner, and
family: Brahim Youssef, Hanne Youssef, and children Marian and
Georges. The rest second and third-class.

_Bade good-bye to wife and sank with ship:_ Mr. Douglas.

_Crew:_ Fourth Officer Boxhall, Seamen Osman and Steward Johnston,
cook.

_Total:_ 25.


INCIDENTS

J. G. Boxhall, Fourth Officer (Am. Inq., p. 240, and Br. Inq.):

I was sent away in Emergency boat 2, the last boat but one on the port
side. There was one of the lifeboats (No. 4) lowered away a few
minutes after I left. That was the next lifeboat to me aft. Engelhardt
boat “D” was being got ready. There was no anxiety of people to get
into these boats. There were four men in this boat--a sailorman
(Osman), a steward (Johnston), a cook and myself, and one male
passenger who did not Speak English--a middle-aged man with a black
beard. He had his wife there and some children. When the order was
given to lower the boat, which seemed to be pretty full, it was about
twenty minutes to half an hour before the ship sank. Someone shouted
through a megaphone: “Some of the boats come back and come around to
the starboard side.” All rowed except this male passenger. I handled
one oar and a lady assisted me. She asked to do it. I got around to
the starboard side intending to go alongside. I reckoned I could take
about three more people off the ship with safety; and when about 22
yards off there was a little suction, as the boat seemed to be drawn
closer, and I thought it would be dangerous to go nearer the ship. I
suggested going back (after ship sank) to the sailorman in the boat,
but decided it was unwise to do so. There was a lady there, Mrs.
Douglas, whom I asked to steer the boat according to my orders. She
assisted me greatly in it. They told me on board the _Carpathia_
afterwards that it was about ten minutes after four when we went
alongside.

After we left the _Titanic_ I showed green lights most of the time.
When within two or three ship lengths of the _Carpathia_, it was just
breaking daylight, and I saw her engines were stopped. She had stopped
within half a mile or a quarter of a mile of an iceberg. There were
several other bergs, and I could see field ice as far as I could see.
The bergs looked white in the sun, though when I first saw them at
daylight they looked black. This was the first time I had seen field
ice on the Grand Banks. I estimate about 25 in my boat.

       *       *       *       *       *

F. Osman, A. B. (Am. Inq., p. 538):

All of us went up and cleared away the boats. After that we loaded all
the boats there were. I went away in No. 2, the fourth from the last
to leave the ship. Boxhall was in command. Murdoch directed the
loading. All passengers were women and children, except one man, a
third-class passenger, his wife and two children. After I got in the
boat the officer found a bunch of rockets which was put in the boat by
mistake for a box of biscuits. The officer fired some off, and the
_Carpathia_ came to us first and picked us up half an hour before
anybody else. Not until morning did we see an iceberg about 100 feet
out of the water with one big point sticking on one side of it,
apparently dark, like dirty ice, 100 yards away. I knew that was the
one we struck. It looked as if there was a piece broken off.

There was no panic at all. There was no suction whatever. When we were
in the boat I shoved off from the ship and I said to the officer: “See
if you can get alongside to see if you can get some more
hands--squeeze some more hands in”; so the women started to get
nervous after I said that, and the officer said: “All right.” The
women disagreed to that. We pulled around to the starboard side of the
ship and found that we could not get to the starboard side because it
was listing too far. We pulled astern again that way, and after we lay
astern we lay on our oars and saw the ship go down. It seemed to me as
if all the engines and everything that was in the after part slid down
into the forward part. We did not go back to the place where the ship
had sunk because the women were all nervous, and we pulled around as
far as we could get from it so that the women would not see and cause
a panic. We got as close as we would dare to. We could not have taken
any more hands into the boat. It was impossible. We might have gotten
one in; that is all. There was no panic amongst the steerage
passengers when we started manning the boats. I saw several people
come up from the steerage and go straight up to the Boat Deck, and the
men stood back while the women and children got into the
boats--steerage passengers as well as others.

Senator Burton: So in your judgment it was safer to have gone on the
boat than to have stayed on the _Titanic_?

Witness: Oh, yes, sir.

Senator Burton: That was when you left?

Witness: Yes, sir.

Senator Burton: What did you think when the first boat was launched?

Witness: I did not think she was going down then.

       *       *       *       *       *

J. Johnston, steward (Br. Inq.):

_Crew:_ Boxhall and four men, including perhaps McCullough. (None such
on list.) Boxhall said: “Shall we go back in the direction of cries of
distress?” which were a half or three-quarters of a mile off. Ladies
said: “No.” Officer Boxhall signalled the _Carpathia_ with lamp. Soon
after launching the swish of the water was heard against the icebergs.
In the morning _Carpathia_ on the edge of ice-field about 200 yards
off.

       *       *       *       *       *

Mrs. Walter D. Douglas’s affidavit (Am. Inq., p. 1100):

Mr. Boxhall had difficulty in getting the boat loose and called for a
knife. We finally were launched. Mrs. Appleton and a man from the
steerage faced me. Mrs. Appleton’s sister, Mrs. Cornell, was back of
me and on the side of her the officer. I think there were eighteen or
twenty in the boat. There were many who did not speak English. The
rowing was very difficult, for no one knew how. We tried to steer
under Mr. Boxhall’s orders, and he put an old lantern, with very
little oil in it, on a pole, which I held up for some time. Mrs.
Appleton and some other women had been rowing, and did row all the
time. Mr. Boxhall had put into the Emergency boat a tin box of green
lights like rockets. These he sent off at intervals, and very quickly
we saw the lights of the _Carpathia_, whose captain said he saw our
green lights ten miles away and steered directly towards us, so we
were the first boat to arrive at the _Carpathia_. When we pulled
alongside, Mr. Boxhall called out: “Slow down your engines and take us
aboard. I have only one seaman.”

       *       *       *       *       *

Mrs. J. B. Mennell (née Allen):

My aunt, Mrs. Robert’s maid, came to the door and asked if she could
speak to me. I went into the corridor and she said: “Miss Allen, the
baggage room is full of water.” I replied she needn’t worry, that the
water-tight compartments would be shut and it would be all right for
her to go back to her cabin. She went back and returned to us
immediately to say her cabin, which was forward on Deck E, was
flooded.

We were on the Boat Deck some minutes before being ordered into the
lifeboat. Neither my aunt, Mrs. Robert, my cousin, Miss Madill, nor
myself ever saw or heard the band. As we stood there we saw a line of
men file by and get into the boat--some sixteen or eighteen stokers.
An officer[16] came along and shouted to them: “Get out, you damned
cowards; I’d like to see everyone of you overboard.” They all got out
and the officer said: “Women and children into this boat,” and we got
in and were lowered.

    [16] Probably the same officer, Murdoch, described by Maj.
    Peuchen, p. 122, this chapter.

With the exception of two very harrowing leave-takings, we saw nothing
but perfect order and quiet on board the _Titanic_. We were rowed
round the stern to the starboard side and away from the ship, as our
boat was a small one and Boxhall feared the suction. Mrs. Cornell
helped to row all the time.

As the _Titanic_ plunged deeper and deeper we could see her stern
rising higher and higher until her lights began to go out. As the last
lights on the stern went out we saw her plunge distinctively, bow
first and intact. Then the screams began and seemed to last eternally.
We rowed back, after the _Titanic_ was under water, toward the place
where she had gone down, but we saw no one in the water, nor were we
near enough to any other lifeboats to see them. When Boxhall lit his
first light the screams grew louder and then died down.

We could hear the lapping of the water on the icebergs, but saw none,
even when Boxhall lit his green lights, which he did at regular
intervals, till we sighted the _Carpathia_. Our boat was the first one
picked up by the _Carpathia_. I happened to be the first one up the
ladder, as the others seemed afraid to start up, and when the officer
who received me asked where the _Titanic_ was, I told him she had gone
down.

       *       *       *       *       *

Capt. A. H. Rostron, of the _Carpathia_ (Am. Inq., p. 22):

We picked up the first boat, which was in charge of an officer who I
saw was not under full control of his boat. He sang out that he had
only one seaman in the boat, so I had to manœuvre the ship to get as
close to the boat as possible, as I knew well it would be difficult to
do the pulling. By the time we had the first boat’s people it was
breaking day, and then I could see the remaining boats all around
within an area of about four miles. I also saw icebergs all around me.
There were about twenty icebergs that would be anywhere from about 150
to 200 feet high, and numerous smaller bergs; also numerous ones we
call “growlers” anywhere from 10 to 12 feet high and 10 to 15 feet
long, above the water.

  [Illustration: CAPTAIN ROSTRON OF S. S. “CARPATHIA”]


BOAT NO. 4.[17]

    [17] British Report (p. 38) says this was the eighth and last
    _lifeboat_ that left the ship and lowered at 1.55 A. M.

_No male passengers in this boat._

_Passengers:_ Mrs. Astor and maid (Miss Bidois), Miss Bowen, Mrs.
Carter and maid (Miss Serepeca), Mrs. Clark, Mrs. Cummings, Miss
Eustis, Mrs. Ryerson and children, Miss S. R., Miss E. and Master
J. B. and maid (Chandowson), Mrs. Stephenson, Mrs. Thayer and maid,
Mrs. Widener and maid.

_Women and children:_ 36. (Br. Rpt.)

_Crew:_ Perkis, Q. M., in charge. Seamen: McCarthy, Hemmings,* Lyons;†
Storekeeper Foley and Assistant Storekeeper Prentice;* Firemen: Smith
and Dillon;* Greasers: Granger and Scott;* Stewards: Cunningham,*
Siebert.†

    * Picked up from sea.

    † Picked up from sea but died in boat.

_Bade good-bye to wives and sank with ship:_ Messrs. Astor, Clark,
Cummings, Ryerson, Thayer, Widener and his son Harry.

_Stowaway:_ One Frenchman.

_Total:_ 40. (Br. Rpt.)


INCIDENTS

C. H. Lightoller, Second Officer (Am. Inq., p. 81):

Previous to putting out Engelhardt Boat “D,” Lightoller says,
referring to boat No. 4: “We had previously lowered a boat from A
Deck, one deck down below. That was through my fault. It was the first
boat I had lowered. I was intending to put the passengers in from A
Deck. On lowering the boat I found that the windows were closed; so I
sent someone down to open the windows and carried on with the other
boats, but decided it was not worth while lowering them down--that I
could manage just as well from the Boat Deck. When I came forward from
the other boats I loaded that boat from A Deck by getting the women
out through the windows. My idea in filling the boats there was
because there was a wire hawser running along the side of the ship for
coaling purposes and it was handy to tie the boat in to hold it so
that nobody could drop between the side of the boat and the ship. No.
4 was the fifth boat or the sixth lowered on the port side.”[18]

    [18] I agree with this statement though other testimony and the
    British Report decide against us. The difference may be
    reconciled by the fact that the loading of this boat began
    early, but the final lowering was delayed.

       *       *       *       *       *

W. J. Perkis, Quartermaster (Am. Inq., p. 581):

I lowered No. 4 into the water and left that boat and walked aft; and
I came back and a man that was in the boat, one of the seamen, sang
out to me: “We need another hand down here,” so I slid down the
lifeline there from the davit into the boat. I took charge of the boat
after I got in, with two sailormen besides myself. There were
forty-two, including all hands. We picked up eight people afterwards
swimming with life-preservers when about a ship’s length away from the
ship. No. 4 was the last big boat on the port side to leave the ship.
Two that were picked up died in the boat--a seaman (Lyons) and a
steward (Siebert). All the others were passengers. After we picked up
the men I could not hear any more cries anywhere. The discipline on
board the ship was excellent. Every man knew his station and took it.
There was no excitement whatever among the officers or crew, the
firemen or stewards. They conducted themselves the same as they would
if it were a minor, everyday occurrence.

Senator Perkins (addressing Perkis, Symons and Hogg:)

All three of you seem to be pretty capable young men and have had a
great deal of experience at sea, and yet you have never been wrecked?

Mr. Perkis: Yes, sir.

Senator Perkins: Is there any other one of you who has been in a
shipwreck?

Mr. Hogg: I have been in a collision, Senator, but with no loss of
life.

Senator Perkins: Unless you have something more to state that you
think will throw light on this subject, that will be all, and we thank
you for what you have said.

Mr. Hogg: That is all I have to say except this: I think the women
ought to have a gold medal on their breasts. God bless them. I will
always raise my hat to a woman after what I saw.

Senator Perkins: What countrywomen were they?

Mr. Hogg: They were American women I had in mind. They were all
Americans.

Senator Perkins: Did they man the oars? Did they take the oars and
pull?

Mr. Hogg: Yes, sir; I took an oar all the time myself and also
steered. Then I got one lady to steer; then another to assist me with
an oar. She rowed to keep herself warm.

Senator Perkins: One of you stated that his boat picked up eight
people, and the other that he did not pick up any. Could you not have
picked up just as well as this other man?

Mr. Hogg: I wanted to assist in picking up people, but I had an order
from somebody in the boat (No. 7)--I do not know who it was--not to
take in any more; that we had done our best.

Senator Perkins: I merely ask the question because of the natural
thought that if one boat picked up eight persons the other boat may
have been able to do so.--You did not get any orders, Mr. Symons (boat
No. 1), not to pick up any more people?

Mr. Symons: No, sir; there were no more around about where I was.

Senator Perkins: As I understand, one of the boats had more packed
into it than the other. As I understand it, Mr. Symons pulled away
from the ship and then when he came back there they picked up all the
people that were around?

Mr. Symons made no reply.

       *       *       *       *       *

S. S. Hemming, A. B. (Am. Inq.):

Everything was black over the starboard side. I could not see any
boats. I went over to the port side and saw a boat off the port
quarter and I went along the port side and got up the after boat
davits and slid down the fall and swam to the boat about 200 yards.
When I reached the boat I tried to get hold of the grab-line on the
bows. I pulled my head above the gunwale, and I said: “Give us a hand,
Jack.” Foley was in the boat; I saw him standing up. He said: “Is that
you, Sam?” I said: “Yes” to him and the women and children pulled me
in the boat.

After the ship sank we pulled back and picked up seven of the crew
including a seaman, Lyons, a fireman, Dillon, and two stewards,
Cunningham and Siebert. We made for the light of another lifeboat and
kept in company with her. Then day broke and we saw two more
lifeboats. We pulled toward them and we all made fast by the painter.
Then we helped with boat No. 12 to take off the people on an
overturned boat (“B”). From this boat (“B”) we took about four or
five, and the balance went into the other boat. There were about
twenty altogether on this boat (“B”).

       *       *       *       *       *

A. Cunningham, Steward (Am. Inq., p. 794):

I first learned of the very serious character of the collision from my
own knowledge when I saw the water on the post-office deck. I waited
on the ship until all the boats had gone, and then threw myself into
the water. This was about 2 o’clock. I was in the water about half an
hour before the ship sank. I swam clear of the ship about
three-quarters of a mile. I was afraid of the suction. My mate,
Siebert, left the ship with me. I heard a lifeboat and called to it
and went toward it. I found Quartermaster Perkis in charge. Hemmings,
the sailor, Foley (storekeeper) and a fireman (Dillon) were in this
boat. I never saw any male passengers in the boat. We picked up
Prentice, assistant storekeeper. I think No. 4 was the nearest to the
scene of the accident because it picked up more persons in the water.
About 7.30 we got aboard the _Carpathia_. When we sighted her she
might have been four or five miles away.

       *       *       *       *       *

R. P. Dillon, trimmer (Br. Inq.):

I went down with the ship and sank about two fathoms. Swam about
twenty minutes in the water and was picked up by No. 4. About 1,000
others in the water in my estimation. Saw no women. Recovered
consciousness and found Sailor Lyons and another lying on top of me
dead.

       *       *       *       *       *

Thomas Granger, greaser (Br. Inq.):

I went to the port side of the Boat Deck aft, climbed down a rope and
got into a boat near the ship’s side, No. 4, which had come back
because there were not enough men to pull her. She was full of women
and children. F. Scott, greaser, also went down the falls and got into
this boat. Perkis, quartermaster, and Hemmings then in it. Afterwards
picked up Dillon and another man (Prentice) out of the water.

       *       *       *       *       *

F. Scott, greaser (Br. Inq.):

We went on deck on starboard side first as she had listed over to the
port side, but we saw no boats. When I came up the engineers came up
just after me on the Boat Deck. I saw only eight of them out of
thirty-six on the deck. Then we went to the port side and saw boats.
An officer fired a shot and I heard him say that if any man tried to
get in that boat he would shoot him like a dog. At this time all the
boats had gone from the starboard side. I saw one of the boats, No. 4,
returning to the ship’s side and I climbed on the davits and tried to
get down the falls but fell in the water and was picked up. It was
nearly two o’clock when I got on the davits and down the fall.

       *       *       *       *       *

Mrs. E. B. Ryerson’s affidavit (Am. Inq., p. 1107):

We were ordered down to A Deck, which was partly enclosed. We saw
people getting into boats, but waited our turn. My boy, Jack, was with
me. An officer at the window said: “That boy cannot go.” My husband
said: “Of course that boy goes with his mother; he is only thirteen”;
so they let him pass. I turned and kissed my husband and as we left he
and the other men I knew, Mr. Thayer, Mr. Widener and others, were
standing together very quietly. There were two men and an officer
inside and a sailor outside to help us. I fell on top of the women who
were already in the boat and scrambled to the bow with my eldest
daughter. Miss Bowen and my boy were in the stern, and my second
daughter was in the middle of the boat with my maid. Mrs. Thayer, Mrs.
Widener, Mrs. Astor and Miss Eustis were the only ones I knew in our
boat.

Presently an officer called out from the upper deck: “How many women
are there in that boat?” Someone answered: “Twenty-four.” “That’s
enough; lower away.”

The ropes seemed to stick at one end. Someone called for a knife, but
it was not needed until we got into the water as it was but a short
distance; and then I realized for the first time how far the ship had
sunk. The deck we left was only about twenty feet from the sea. I
could see all the portholes open and the water washing in, and the
decks still lighted. Then they called out: “How many seamen have you?”
and they answered: “One.” “That is not enough,” said the officer, “I
will send you another”; and he sent a sailor down the rope. In a few
minutes several other men, not sailors, came down the ropes over the
davits and dropped into our boat. The order was given to pull away,
and then they rowed off. Someone shouted something about a gangway,
and no one seemed to know what to do. Barrels and chairs were being
thrown overboard. As the bow of the ship went down the lights went
out. The stern stood up for several minutes black against the stars
and then the boat plunged down. Then began the cries for help of
people drowning all around us, which seemed to go on forever. Someone
called out: “Pull for your lives or you will be sucked under,” and
everyone that could rowed like mad. I could see my younger daughter
and Mrs. Thayer and Mrs. Astor rowing, but there seemed to be no
suction. Then we turned and picked up some of those in the water. Some
of the women protested, but others persisted, and we dragged in six or
seven men. The men rescued were stewards, stokers, sailors, etc., and
were so chilled and frozen already that they could hardly move. Two of
them died in the stern later and many of them were raving and moaning
and delirious most of the time. We had no lights or compass. There
were several babies in the boat.

Officer Lowe called out to tie together, and as soon as we could make
out the other boats in the dark five were tied together. We could
dimly see an overturned boat with about twenty men standing on it,
back to back. As the sailors in our boat said we could still carry
from eight to ten people, we called for another boat to volunteer and
go and rescue them, so we cut loose our painters and between us got
all the men off. Then when the sun rose we saw the _Carpathia_
standing up about five miles away, and for the first time saw the
icebergs all around us. We got on board about 8 o’clock.

       *       *       *       *       *

Mrs. Thayer’s affidavit:

The after part of the ship then reared in the air, with the stern
upwards, until it assumed an almost vertical position. It seemed to
remain stationary in this position for many seconds (perhaps twenty),
then suddenly dove straight down out of sight. It was 2.20 a. m. when
the _Titanic_ disappeared, according to a wrist watch worn by one of
the passengers in my boat.

We pulled back to where the vessel had sunk and on our way picked up
six men who were swimming--two of whom were drunk and gave us much
trouble all the time. The six men we picked up were hauled into the
boat by the women. Two of these men died in the boat.

The boat we were in started to take in water; I do hot know how. We
had to bail. I was standing in ice cold water up to the top of my
boots all the time, and rowing continuously for nearly five hours. We
took off about fifteen more people who were standing on a capsized
boat. In all, our boat had by that time sixty-five or sixty-six
people. There was no room to sit down in our boat, so we all stood,
except some sitting along the side.

I think the steerage passengers had as good a chance as any of the
rest to be saved.

The boat I was in was picked up by the _Carpathia_ at 7 a. m. on
Monday, we having rowed three miles to her, as we could not wait for
her to come up on account of our boat taking in so much water that we
would not have stayed afloat much longer.

I never saw greater courage or efficiency than was displayed by the
officers of the ship. They were calm, polite and perfectly splendid.
They also worked hard. The bedroom stewards also behaved extremely
well.

       *       *       *       *       *

Mrs. Stephenson’s and Miss Eustis’s story kindly handed me for
publication in my book contains the following:

“We were in the companionway of A Deck when order came for _women and
children to Boat Deck and men to starboard side_. Miss Eustis and I
took each other’s hands, not to be separated in the crowd, and all
went on deck, we following close to Mrs. Thayer and her maid and going
up narrow iron stairs to the forward Boat Deck which, on the
_Titanic_, was the captain’s bridge.

“At the top of the stairs we found Captain Smith looking much worried
and anxiously waiting to get down after we got up. The ship listed
heavily to port just then. As we leaned against the walls of the
officers’ quarters rockets were being fired over our heads, which was
most alarming, as we fully realized if the _Titanic_ had used her
wireless to ill effect and was sending rockets it must be serious.
Shortly after that the order came from the head dining room steward
(Dodd) to go down to A Deck, when Mrs. Thayer remarked, ‘Tell us where
to go and we will follow. You ordered us up here and now you are
taking us back,’ and he said, ‘Follow me.’

“On reaching the A Deck we could see, for the decks were lighted by
electricity, that a boat was lowered parallel to the windows; these
were opened and a steamer chair put under the rail for us to step on.
The ship had listed badly by that time and the boat hung far out from
the side, so that some of the men said, ‘No woman could step across
that space.’ A call was made for a ladder on one of the lower decks,
but before it ever got there we were all in the boat. Whether they had
drawn the boat over with boathooks nearer the side I do not know, but
the space was easily jumped with the help of two men in the boat.

“I remember seeing Colonel Astor, who called ‘Good-bye’ and said he
would follow in another boat, asking the number of our boat, which
they said was ‘No. 4.’ In going through the window I was obliged to
throw back the steamer rug, for, with my fur coat and huge cork
life-preserver, I was very clumsy. Later we found the stewards or crew
had thrown the steamer rugs into the boat, and they did good service,
Miss Eustis’ around a baby thinly clad, and mine for a poor member of
the crew pulled in from the sea.

“Our boat I think took off every woman on the deck at that time and
was the last on the port side to be lowered.

“When we reached the sea we found the ship badly listed, her nose well
in so that there was water on the D Deck, which we could plainly see
as the boat was lighted and the ports on D Deck were square instead of
round. No lights could be found in our boat and the men had great
difficulty in casting off the blocks as they did not know how they
worked. My fear here was great, as she seemed to be going faster and
faster and I dreaded lest we should be drawn in before we could cast
off.

“When we finally were ready to move the order was called from the deck
to go to the stern hatch and take off some men. There was no hatch
open and we could see no men, but our crew obeyed orders, much to our
alarm, for they were throwing wreckage over and we could hear a
cracking noise resembling china breaking. We implored the men to pull
away from the ship, but they refused, and we pulled three men into the
boat who had dropped off the ship and were swimming toward us. One man
was drunk and had a bottle of brandy in his pocket which the
quartermaster promptly threw overboard and the drunken man was thrown
into the bottom of the boat and a blanket thrown over him. After these
three men were hauled in, they told how fast the ship was sinking and
we all implored them to pull for our lives to get out from the suction
when she should go down. The lights on the ship burned till just
before she went. When the call came that she was going I covered my
face and heard some one call, ‘She’s broken.’ After what seemed a long
time I turned my head only to see the stern almost perpendicular in
the air so that the full outline of the blades of the propeller showed
above the water. She then gave her final plunge and the air was filled
with cries. We rowed back and pulled in five more men from the sea.
Their suffering from the icy water was intense and two men who had
been pulled into the stern afterwards died, but we kept their bodies
with us until we reached the _Carpathia_, where they were taken aboard
and Monday afternoon given a decent burial with three others.

“After rescuing our men we found several lifeboats near us and an
order was given to tie together, which we obeyed. It did not seem as
if we were together long when one boat said they could rescue more
could they get rid of some of the women and children aboard and some
of them were put into our boat. Soon after cries of ‘Ship ahoy’ and a
long low moan came to us and an officer in command of one of the boats
ordered us to follow him. We felt that we were already too crowded to
go, but our men, with quartermaster and boatswain in command, followed
the officer and we pulled over to what proved to be an overturned boat
crowded with men. We had to approach it very cautiously, fearing our
wash would sweep them off. We could take only a few and they had to
come very cautiously. The other boat (No. 12) took most of them and we
then rowed away.”

This rescue, which Mrs. Stephenson so well describes, occurred at
dawn. Her story now returns to the prior period of night time.

“The sea was smooth and the night brilliant with more stars than I had
ever seen.

“Occasionally a green light showed which proved to be on the Emergency
boat, and our men all recognized it as such. We all prayed for dawn,
and there was no conversation, everyone being so awed by the disaster
and bitterly cold.

“With the dawn came the wind, and before long quite a sea was running.
Just before daylight on the horizon we saw what we felt sure must be
the lights of a ship. The quartermaster was a long time in admitting
that we were right, urging that it was the moon, but we insisted and
they then said it might be the _Carpathia_ as they had been told
before leaving the _Titanic_ that she was coming to us. For a long
time after daylight we were in great wreckage from the _Titanic_,
principally steamer chairs and a few white pilasters.

“We felt we could never reach the _Carpathia_ when we found she had
stopped, and afterwards when we asked why she didn’t come closer we
were told that some of the early boats which put off from the
starboard side reached her a little after four, while it was after six
when we drew under the side of the open hatch.

“It had been a long trying row in the heavy sea and impossible to keep
bow on to reach the ship. We stood in great danger of being swamped
many times and Captain Rostron, who watched us come up, said he
doubted if we could have lived an hour longer in that high sea. Our
boat had considerable water in the centre, due to the leakage and also
the water brought in by the eight men from their clothing. They had
bailed her constantly in order to relieve the weight. Two of the women
near us were dying seasick, but the babies slept most of the night in
their mothers’ arms. The boatswain’s chair was slung down the side and
there were also rope ladders. Only few, however, of the men were able
to go up the ladders. Mail bags were dropped down in which the babies
and little children were placed and hoisted up. We were told to throw
off our life-preservers and then placed in a boatswain’s chair and
hoisted to the open hatch where ready arms pulled us in; warm blankets
waited those in need and brandy was offered to everybody. We were
shown at once to the saloon, where hot coffee and sandwiches were
being served.”


ENGELHARDT BOAT “D.”[19]

    [19] British Report (p. 38) puts this as the last boat lowered
    at 2.05.

_No male passengers in this boat._

_Passengers:_ Mrs. J. M. Brown, Mrs. Harris, Mrs. Frederick Hoyt, the
Navratil children.

_Picked up from the sea:_ Frederick Hoyt.

_Bade good-bye to wife and sank with ship:_ Mr. Harris.

_Crew:_ Bright, Q. M., in charge; Seaman Lucas; Steward Hardy.

_Stowaway:_ One steerage foreigner, Joseph Dugemin.

_Jumped from deck below as boat was lowered:_ H. B. Steffanson
(Swede), and H. Woolner (Englishman).

_Total:_ 44. British Report (p. 38): Crew 2, men passengers 2, women
and children 40.


INCIDENTS

C. H. Lightoller, Second Officer (Am. Inq., p. 81):

In the case of the last boat I got out, the very last of all to leave
the ship, I had the utmost difficulty in finding women. After all the
other boats were put out we came forward to put out the Engelhardt
collapsible boats. In the meantime the forward Emergency boat (No. 2)
had been put out by one of the other officers, so we rounded up the
tackles and got the collapsible boat to put that over. Then I called
for women and could not get any. Somebody said: “There are no women.”
This was on the Boat Deck where all the women were supposed to be
because the boats were there. There were between fifteen and twenty
people put into this boat--one seaman and another seaman, or steward.
This was the very last boat lowered in the tackles. I noticed plenty
of Americans standing near me, who gave me every assistance they
could, regardless of nationality.

       *       *       *       *       *

And before the British Court of Inquiry the same officer testified:

Someone shouted: “There are no more women.” Some of the men began
climbing in. Then someone said: “There are some more women,” and when
they came forward the men got out of the boat again. I saw no men in
her, but I believe a couple of Chinese stowed away in her.

When that boat went away there were no women whatever. I did not
consider it advisable to wait, but to try to get at once away from the
ship. I did not want the boat to be “rushed.” Splendid order was
maintained. No attempt was made to “rush” that boat by the men. When
this boat was being loaded I could see the water coming up the
stairway. There was splendid order on the boat until the last. As far
as I know there were no male passengers in the boats I saw off except
the one man I ordered in, Major Peuchen.

       *       *       *       *       *

A. J. Bright, Q. M. (Am. Inq., p. 831):

Quartermaster Rowe, Mr. Boxhall and myself fired the distress signals,
six rockets I think in all, at intervals. After we had finished firing
the distress signals, there were two boats left (Engelhardt
collapsibles “C” and “D”). All the lifeboats were away before the
collapsible boats were lowered. They had to be, because the
collapsible boats were on the deck and the other boats had to be
lowered before they could be used. The same tackle with which the
lifeboats and the Emergency boats were lowered was employed after
they had gone in lowering the collapsible boats.

Witness says that both he and Rowe assisted in getting out the
starboard collapsible boat “C” and then he went to the port side and
filled up the other boat “D” with passengers, about twenty-five in
all. There was a third-class passenger, a man, in the boat, who was on
his way to Albion, N. Y. (The passenger list shows this man to have
been Joseph Dugemin.)

We were told to pull clear and get out of the suction. When boat “D”
was lowered the forecastle head was just going under water; that would
be about twenty feet lower than the bridge, and the ship had then sunk
about fifty feet--all of that, because when boat “D” was lowered the
foremost fall was lower down and the after one seemed to hang and he
called out to hang on to the foremost fall and to see what was the
matter and let go the after fall. Boat “D” was fifty to a hundred
yards away when the ship sank.[20] They had a lantern in the boat but
no oil to light it. After leaving the boat, witness heard something
but not an explosion. It was like a rattling of chains more than
anything else.

    [20] The interval of time can then be approximated as nearly a
    half hour, that we remained on the ship after the lifeboats
    left.

After “D” got away Mr. Lowe came alongside in another boat, No. 14,
and told them to stick together and asked for the number in “D” boat.
Steward Hardy counted and told him. Lowe then put about ten or a dozen
men from some other boat into witness’s boat because it was not filled
up. One seaman was taken out. This would make thirty-seven in “D”
boat. Just at daylight they saw one of the collapsible boats, “A,”
that was awash--just flush with the water. Officer Lowe came and took
boat “D” in tow, because it had very few men to pull, and towed it to
boat “A” and took twelve men and one woman off and put them into his
boat No. 14. They were standing in water just about to their ankles
when No. 14 and “D” came up to them. They turned the swamped boat
adrift with two (three) dead bodies. They were then towed under sail
by Mr. Lowe’s boat to the _Carpathia_, about four miles away.

       *       *       *       *       *

William Lucas, A. B. (Br. Inq.):

Got into Engelhardt “D.” The water was then right up under the bridge.
Had not gone more than 100 yards when there was an explosion and 150
yards when the _Titanic_ sank. Had to get some of the women to take
oars. There was no rudder in the boat. Changed oars from one side to
the other to get her away. Saw a faint red light abaft the _Titanic’s_
beam about nine miles away--the headlight also. The witness was
transferred to No. 12.

       *       *       *       *       *

J. Hardy, Chief Steward, second-class (Am. Inq., p. 587):

We launched this boat filled with passengers. Mr. Lightoller and
myself loaded it. I went away in it with the quartermaster (Bright)
and two firemen. There were Syrians in the bottom of the boat,
third-class passengers, chattering the whole night in their strange
language. There were about twenty-five women and children. We lowered
away and got to the water; the ship then had a heavy list to port. We
got clear of the ship and rowed out some distance from her. Mr. Lowe
told us to tie up with other boats, that we would be better seen and
could keep better together. He, having a full complement of passengers
in his boat, transferred about ten to ours, making thirty-five in our
boat. When we left the ship, where we were lowered, there were no
women and children there in sight at all. There was nobody to lower
the boat. No men passengers when we were ready to lower it. They had
gone; where, I could not say. We were not more than forty feet from
the water when we were lowered. We picked up the husband (Frederick
W. Hoyt) of a wife that we had loaded in the boat. The gentleman took
to the water and climbed in the boat after we had lowered it. He sat
there wringing wet alongside me, helping to row.

I had great respect and great regret for Officer Murdoch. I was
walking along the deck forward with him and he said: “I believe she is
gone, Hardy.” This was a good half hour before my boat was lowered.

Senator Fletcher: Where were all these passengers; these 1,600 people?

Mr. Hardy: They must have been between decks or on the deck below or
on the other side of the ship. I cannot conceive where they were.

       *       *       *       *       *

In his letter to me, Mr. Frederick M. Hoyt relates his experience as
follows:

“I knew Captain Smith for over fifteen years. Our conversation that
night amounted to little or nothing. I simply sympathized with him on
the accident; but at that time, as I then never expected to be saved,
I did not want to bother him with questions, as I knew he had all he
wanted to think of. He did suggest that I go down to A Deck and see if
there were not a boat alongside. This I did, and to my surprise saw
the boat “D” still hanging on the davits (there having been some
delay in lowering her), and it occurred to me that if I swam out and
waited for her to shove off they would pick me up, which was what
happened.”

       *       *       *       *       *

Hugh Woolner, first-class passenger (Am. Inq., p. 887):

Then I said to Steffanson, “Let us go down on to A Deck.” And we went
down again, but there was nobody there. I looked on both sides of the
deck and saw no people. It was absolutely deserted, and the electric
lights along the ceiling of A Deck were beginning to turn red, just a
glow, a red sort of glow. So I said to Steffanson, “This is getting to
be rather a tight corner; let us go out through the door at the end.”
And as we went out _the sea came in onto the deck at our feet_. Then
we hopped up onto the gunwale, preparing to jump into the sea, because
if we had waited a minute longer we should have been boxed in against
the ceiling. And as we looked out we saw this collapsible boat, the
last boat on the port side, being lowered right in front of our faces.

Senator Smith: How far out?

Mr. Woolner: It was about nine feet out.

Senator Smith: Nine feet away from the side of A Deck?

Mr. Woolner: Yes.

Senator Smith: You saw a collapsible boat being lowered?

Mr. Woolner: Being lowered; yes.

Senator Smith: Was it filled with people?

Mr. Woolner: It was full up to the bow, and I said to Steffanson,
“There is nobody in the bows. Let us make a jump for it. You go
first.” And he jumped out and tumbled in head over heels into the
boat, and I jumped too and hit the gunwale with my chest, which had on
the life-preserver, of course, and I sort of tumbled off the gunwale
and caught the gunwale with my fingers and slipped off backwards.

Senator Smith: Into the water?

Mr. Woolner: As my legs dropped down I felt that they were in the sea.

Senator Smith: You are quite sure you jumped nine feet to get that
boat?

Mr. Woolner: That is my estimate. By that time you see we were jumping
slightly downward.

Senator Smith: Did you jump out or down?

Mr. Woolner: Both.

Senator Smith: Both out and down?

Mr. Woolner: Slightly down and out.

Senator Smith: It could not have been very far down if the water was
on A Deck; it must have been out.

Mr. Woolner: Chiefly out; but it was sufficiently down for us to see
just over the edge of the gunwale of the boat.

Senator Smith: You pulled yourself up out of the water?

Mr. Woolner: Yes; and then I hooked my right heel over the gunwale,
and by this time Steffanson was standing up and he caught hold of me
and lifted me in.

One lady (Mrs. Harris) had a broken elbow bone. She was in a white
woollen jacket. At dawn Officer Lowe transferred five or six from his
boat No. 14 to ours, which brought us down very close to the water. At
daylight we saw a great many icebergs of different colors, as the sun
struck them. Some looked white, some looked blue, some looked mauve
and others were dark gray. There was one double-toothed one that
looked to be of good size; it must have been about one hundred feet
high.

The _Carpathia_ seemed to come up slowly, and then she stopped. We
looked out and saw there was a boat alongside and then we realized she
was waiting for us to come up to her instead of her coming to us, as
we hoped. Then Mr. Lowe towed us with his boat, No. 14, under sail.
After taking a group of people off of boat “A”--a dozen of
them--including one woman, we sailed to the _Carpathia_. There was a
child in the boat--one of those little children whose parents
everybody was looking for (the Navratil children).

       *       *       *       *       *

The last of the _Titanic’s_ boats which were never launched, but
floated off, were the two Engelhardt collapsibles “A” and “B” on the
roof of the officers’ house. In my personal account I have already
given the story of boat “B,” the upset one on which Second Officer
Lightoller, Jack Thayer, myself and others escaped. Since I wrote the
account of my personal experience I have had access to other sources
of information, including some already referred to; and though at the
expense of some repetition, I think it may be of interest to include
the record of this boat in the present chapter, as follows:


ENGELHARDT BOAT “B.”

[_The Upset Boat_]

_Passengers:_ A. H. Barkworth, Archibald Gracie, John B. Thayer, Jr.,
first cabin.

_Crew:_ Second Officer Lightoller, Junior Marconi Operator Bride;
Firemen: McGann, Senior; Chief Baker Joughin; Cooks: Collins,
Maynard; Steward Whiteley, “J. Hagan.” Seaman J. McGough (possibly).
Two men died on boat. Body of one transferred to No. 12 and finally to
_Carpathia_. He was a fireman probably, but Cunard Co. preserved no
record of him or his burial.


INCIDENTS

C. H. Lightoller, Second Officer (Am. Inq., pp. 87, 91, 786):

I was on top of the officers’ quarters and there was nothing more to
be done. The ship then took a dive and I turned face forward and also
took a dive from on top, practically amidships a little to the
starboard, where I had got to. I was driven back against the blower,
which is a large thing that shape (indicating) which faces forward to
the wind and which then goes down to the stoke hole; but there is a
grating there and it was against this grating that I was sucked by the
water, and held there under water. There was a terrific blast of air
and water and I was blown out clear. I came up above the water, which
barely threw me away at all, because I went down again against these
fiddley gratings immediately abreast of the funnel over the stoke hole
to which this fiddley leads. Colonel Gracie, I believe, was sucked
down in identically the same manner on the fiddley gratings, caused by
the water rushing down below as the ship was going down.

I next found myself alongside of that overturned boat. This was before
the _Titanic_ sank. The funnel then fell down and if there was anybody
on that side of the Engelhardt boat it fell on them. The ship was not
then submerged by considerable. The stern was completely out of the
water. I have heard some controversy as to the boilers exploding owing
to coming in contact with salt water, by men who are capable of giving
an opinion, but there seems to be an open question as to whether cold
water actually does cause boilers to explode.

I hardly had any opportunity to swim. It was the action of the funnel
falling that threw us out a considerable distance away from the ship.
We had no oars or other effective means for propelling the overturned
boat. We had little bits of wood, but they were practically
ineffective.

On our boat, as I have said before, were Colonel Gracie and young
Thayer. I think they were the only two passengers. There were no women
on our overturned boat. These were all taken out of the water and they
were firemen and others of the crew--roughly about thirty. I take
that from my own estimate and from the estimate of someone who was
looking down from the bridge of the _Carpathia_.

       *       *       *       *       *

And from the same officer’s testimony before the British Court as
follows:

An order was given to cut the lashings of the other Engelhardt boats.
It was then too late as the water was rushing up to the Boat Deck and
there was not time to get them to the falls. He then went across to
the officers’ quarters on the starboard side to see what he could do.
Then the vessel seemed to take a bit of a dive. He swam off and
cleared the ship. The water was so intensely cold that he first tried
to get out of it into the crow’s nest, close at hand. Next he was
pushed up against the blower on the forepart of the funnel, the water
rushing down this blower, holding him against the grating for a while.
Then there seemed to be a rush of air and he was blown away from the
grating. He was dragged below the surface, but not for many moments.
He came up near the Engelhardt boat “B” which was not launched, but
had been thrown into the water. The forward funnel then fell down.
Some little time after this he saw half a dozen men standing on the
collapsible boat, and got on to it. The whole of the third funnel was
still visible, the vessel gradually raising her stern out of the
water. The ship did not break in two, and could not be broken in two.
She actually attained the perpendicular before sinking. His impression
was that no lights were then burning in the after part not submerged.
It is true that the after part of the vessel settled level with the
water. He watched the ship keenly all the time. After she reached an
angle of 60 degrees there was a rumbling sound which he attributed to
the boilers leaving their beds and crashing down. Finally she attained
an absolute perpendicular position and then went slowly down. He heard
no explosion whatever, but noticed about that time that the water
became much warmer. There were about those on the Engelhardt boat “B,”
several people struggling in the water who came on it. Nearly
twenty-eight or thirty were taken off in the morning at daybreak. In
this rescuing boat (No. 12), after the transfer, there were
seventy-five. It was the last boat to the _Carpathia_. The next
morning (Monday) he saw some icebergs from fifty to sixty to two
hundred feet high, but the nearest was about ten miles away.

After the boats had left the side of the ship he heard orders given by
the commander through the megaphone. He heard him say: “Bring that
boat alongside.” Witness presumed allusion was made to bringing of
boats to the gangway doors. Witness could not gather whether the
orders were being obeyed. Said he had not been on the Engelhardt boat
more than half an hour before a swell was distinctly visible. In the
morning there was quite a breeze. It was when he was at No. 6 boat
that he noticed the list. Though the ship struck on the starboard
side, it was not an extraordinary thing that there should be a list to
port. It does not necessarily follow that there should be a list to
the side where the water was coming in.

       *       *       *       *       *

Harold Bride, junior Marconi operator in his Report of April 27th to
W. B. Cross, Traffic Manager, Marconi Co. (Am. Inq., p. 1053), says:

Just at this moment the captain said: “You cannot do any more; save
yourselves.” Leaving the captain we climbed on top of the house
comprising the officers’ quarters and our own. Here I saw the last of
Mr. Phillips, for he disappeared, walking aft. I now assisted in
pushing off the collapsible boat on to the Boat Deck. Just as the boat
fell, I noticed Captain Smith dive from the bridge into the sea. Then
followed a general scramble out on to the Boat Deck, but no sooner had
we got there than the sea washed over. I managed to catch hold of the
boat we had previously fixed up and was swept overboard with her. I
then experienced the most exciting three or four hours anyone can
reasonably wish for, and was, in due course with the rest of the
survivors, picked up by the _Carpathia_. As you probably heard, I got
on the collapsible boat the second time, which was, as I had left it,
upturned. I called Phillips but got no response. I learned later from
several sources that he was on this boat and expired even before we
were picked up by the _Titanic’s_ lifeboat (No. 12). I am told that
fright and exposure were the causes of his death. So far as I can find
out, he was taken on board the _Carpathia_ and buried at sea from her,
though for some reason the bodies of those who died were not
identified before burial from the _Carpathia_, and so I cannot vouch
for the truth of this.

       *       *       *       *       *

He also gave testimony before the American Inquiry (pp. 110, 161):

This boat was over the officers’ cabin at the side of the forward
funnel. It was pushed over on to the Boat Deck. It went over the
starboard side and I went over with it. It was washed off and over the
side of the ship by a wave into the water bottom side upward. I was
inside the boat and under it, as it fell bottom side upward. I could
not tell how long. It seemed a life time to me really. I got on top of
the boat eventually. There was a big crowd on top when I got on. I
should say that I remained under the boat three-quarters of an hour,
or a half hour. I then got away from it as quickly as I could. I freed
myself from it and cleared out of it but I do not know why, but swam
back to it about three-quarters of an hour to an hour afterwards. I
was upside down myself--I mean I was on my back.

It is estimated that there were between thirty and forty on the boat;
no women. When it was pushed over on the Boat Deck we all scrambled
down on to the Boat Deck again and were going to launch it properly
when it was washed over before we had time to launch it. I happened to
be nearest to it and I grabbed it and went down with it. There was a
passenger on this boat; I could not see whether he was first, second
or third class. I heard him say at the time that he was a passenger. I
could not say whether it was Colonel Gracie. There were others who
struggled to get on; dozens of them in the water. I should judge they
were all part of the boat’s crew.

I am twenty-two years old. Phillips was about twenty-four or
twenty-five. My salary from the Marconi Co. is four pounds a month.

As to the attack made upon Mr. Phillips to take away his life belt I
should say the man was dressed like a stoker. We forced him away. I
held him and Mr. Phillips hit him.

       *       *       *       *       *

J. Collins, cook (Am. Inq., p. 628):

This was my first voyage. I ran back to the upper deck to the port
side with another steward and a woman and two children. The steward
had one of the children in his arms and the woman was crying. I took
the child from the woman and made for one of the boats. Then the word
came around from the starboard side that there was a collapsible boat
getting launched on that side and that all women and children were to
make for it, so the other steward and I and the two children and the
woman came around to the starboard side. We saw the collapsible boat
taken off the saloon deck, and then the sailors and the firemen who
were forward saw the ship’s bow in the water and that she was sinking
by her bow. They shouted out for us to go aft. We were just turning
round to make for the stern when a wave washed us off the deck--washed
us clear of it, and the child was washed out of my arms. I was kept
down for at least two or three minutes under water.

Senator Bourne: Two or three minutes?

Mr. Collins: Yes; I am sure.

Senator Bourne: Were you unconscious?

Mr. Collins: No; not at all. It did not affect me much--the salt
water.

Senator Bourne: But you were under water? You cannot stay under water
two or three minutes.

Mr. Collins: Well, it seemed so to me. I could not exactly state how
long. When I came to the surface I saw this boat that had been taken
off. I saw a man on it. They had been working on it taking it off the
saloon deck, and when the wave washed it off the deck, they clung to
it. Then I made for it when I came to the surface, swimming for it. I
was only four or five yards off of it. I am sure there were more than
fifteen or sixteen who were then on it. They did not help me to get
on. They were all watching the ship. All I had to do was to give a
spring and I got on to it. We were drifting about for two hours in the
water.

Senator Bourne: When you came up from the water on this collapsible
boat, did you see any evidence of the ship as she sank then?

Mr. Collins: I did, sir; I saw her stern end.

Senator Bourne: Where were you on the boat at the time you were washed
off the ship?

Mr. Collins: Amidships, sir.

Senator Bourne: You say you saw the stern end after you got on the
collapsible boat?

Mr. Collins: Yes, sir.

Senator Bourne: Did you see the bow?

Mr. Collins: No, sir.

Senator Bourne: How far were you from the stern end of the ship when
you came up and got on to the collapsible boat?

Mr. Collins: I could not just exactly state how far I was away from
the _Titanic_ when I came up. I was not far, because her lights were
out then. Her lights went out when the water got almost to amidships
on her.

Senator Bourne: As I understand it, you were amidships of the bow as
the ship sank?

Mr. Collins: Yes, sir.

Senator Bourne: You were washed off by a wave? You were under water as
you think for two or three minutes and then swam five or six yards to
the collapsible boat and got aboard the boat? The stern (of ship) was
still afloat?

Mr. Collins: The stern was still afloat.

Senator Bourne: The lights were burning?

Mr. Collins: I came to the surface, sir, and I happened to look around
and I saw the lights and nothing more, and I looked in front of me and
saw the collapsible boat and I made for it.

Senator Bourne: How do you account for this wave that washed you off
amidships?

Mr. Collins: By the suction which took place when the bow went down
in the water. There were probably fifteen on the boat when I got on.
There was some lifeboat that had a green light on it and we thought it
was a ship, after the _Titanic_ had sunk, and we commenced to shout.
All we saw was the green light. We were drifting about two hours, and
then we saw the topmast lights of the _Carpathia_. Then came daylight
and we saw our own lifeboats and we were very close to them. When we
spied them we shouted to them and they came over to us and they lifted
a whole lot of us that were on the collapsible boat.

       *       *       *       *       *

J. Joughin, head baker (Br. Inq.):

I got on to the starboard side of the poop; found myself in the water.
I do not believe my head went under the water at all. I thought I saw
some wreckage. Swam towards it and found collapsible boat (“B”) with
Lightoller and about twenty-five men on it. There was no room for me.
I tried to get on, but was pushed off, but I hung around. I got around
to the opposite side and cook Maynard, who recognized me, helped me
and held on to me.

       *       *       *       *       *

The experience of my fellow passenger on this boat, John B. Thayer,
Jr., is embodied in accounts written by him on April 20th and 23rd,
just after landing from the _Carpathia_: the first given to the press
as the only statement he had made, the second in a very pathetic
letter written to Judge Charles L. Long, of Springfield, Mass., whose
son, Milton C. Long, was a companion of young Thayer all that evening,
April 14th, until at the very last both jumped into the sea and Long
was lost, as described:

“Thinking that father and mother had managed to get off in a boat we,
Long and myself, went to the starboard side of the Boat Deck where the
boats were getting away quickly. Some were already off in the
distance. We thought of getting into one of them, the last boat on the
forward part of the starboard side, but there seemed to be such a
crowd around that I thought it unwise to make any attempt to get into
it. I thought it would never reach the water right side up, but it
did.

“Here I noticed nobody that I knew except Mr. Lingrey, whom I had met
for the first time that evening. I lost sight of him in a few minutes.
Long and I then stood by the rail just a little aft of the captain’s
bridge. There was such a big list to port that it seemed as if the
ship would turn on her side.

“About this time the people began jumping from the stern. I thought
of jumping myself, but was afraid of being stunned on hitting the
water. Three times I made up my mind to jump out and slide down the
davit ropes and try to swim to the boats that were lying off from the
ship, but each time Long got hold of me and told me to wait a while. I
got a sight on a rope between the davits and a star and noticed that
the ship was gradually sinking. About this time she straightened up on
an even keel again, and started to go down fairly fast at an angle of
about thirty degrees. As she started to sink we left the davits and
went back and stood by the rail aft, even with the second funnel. Long
and myself stood by each other and jumped on the rail. We did not give
each other any messages for home because neither of us thought we
would ever get back. Long put his legs over the rail, while I
straddled it. Hanging over the side and holding on to the rail with
his hands he looked up at me and said: ‘You are coming, boy, aren’t
you?’ I replied: ‘Go ahead, I’ll be with you in a minute.’ He let go
and slid down the side and I never saw him again. Almost immediately
after he jumped I jumped. All this last part took a very short time,
and when we jumped we were about ten yards above the water. Long was
perfectly calm all the time and kept his nerve to the very end.”

How he sank and finally reached the upset boat is quoted accurately
from the newspaper report from this same source given in my personal
narrative. He continues as follows:

“As often as we saw other boats in the distance we would yell, ‘Ship
ahoy!’ but they could not distinguish our cries from any of the
others, so we all gave it up, thinking it useless. It was very cold,
and the water washed over the upset boat almost all the time. Towards
dawn the wind sprung up, roughening the water and making it difficult
to keep the boat balanced. The wireless man raised our hopes a great
deal by telling us that the _Carpathia_ would be up in about three
hours. About 3.30 or 4 o’clock some men at the bow of our boat sighted
her mast lights. I could not see them as I was sitting down with a man
kneeling on my leg. He finally got up, and I stood up. We had the
Second Officer, Mr. Lightoller, on board. He had an officer’s whistle
and whistled for the boats in the distance to come up and take us off.
Two of them came up. The first took half and the other took the
balance, including myself. In the transfer we had difficulty in
balancing our boat as the men would lean too far over, but we were all
taken aboard the already crowded boats and taken to the _Carpathia_
in safety.”

One of these boats was No. 4, in which his mother was.




CHAPTER VII

STARBOARD SIDE: WOMEN FIRST, BUT MEN WHEN THERE WERE NO WOMEN


I KNOW of the conditions existing on the port side of the ship from
personal knowledge, as set forth in the first five chapters describing
my personal experience, while the previous Chapter VI is derived from
an exhaustive study of official and of other authoritative information
relating to the same side from experiences of others. I have devoted
an equal amount of study to the history of what happened on the
starboard side of the ship, and the tabulated statements in this
chapter are the outcome of my research into the experiences of my
fellow passengers on this side of the ship where I was located only
during the last half hour before the ship foundered, after all
passengers on the port side had been ordered to the starboard in
consequence of the great list to port, and after the departure of the
last boat “D,” that left the ship on the port side. During this last
half hour, though it seemed shorter, my attention was confined to the
work of the crew, assisting them in their vain efforts to launch the
Engelhardt boat “B” thrown down from the roof of the officers’ house.
All the starboard boats had left the ship before I came there.

Many misunderstandings arose in the public mind because of ignorance
of the size of the ship and inability to understand that the same
conditions did not prevail at every point and that the same scenes
were not witnessed by every one of us. Consider the great length of
the ship, 852 feet; its breadth of beam, 92.6 feet; and its many
decks, eleven in number; counting the roof of the officers’ house as
the top deck, then the Boat Deck, and Decks A, B, C, D, E, F, G, and,
in the hold, two more. Bearing this in mind I illustrated to my New
York friends, in answer to their questions, how impossible it would be
for a person standing at the corner of 50th Street and Fifth Avenue to
know just what was going on at 52nd Street on the same Avenue, or what
was going on at the corner of 52nd Street and Madison Avenue.
Therefore, when one survivor’s viewpoint differs from that of another,
the explanation is easily found.

Consideration must also be taken of the fact that the accident
occurred near midnight, and though it was a bright, star-lit night,
and the ship’s electric lights shone almost to the last, it was
possible to recognize only one’s intimates at close quarters.

My research shows that there was no general order from the ship’s
officers on the starboard side for “Women and children first.” On the
other hand, I have the statements of Dr. Washington Dodge, John B.
Thayer, Jr., and Mrs. Stephenson, also the same of a member of the
crew testifying before the British Court of Inquiry, from which it
appears that some sort of a command was issued ordering the women to
the port side and the men to the starboard, indicating that no men
would be allowed in the port boats, and only in the starboard side
boats after the women had entered them first. If such were the orders,
they were carried out to the letter. Another point of difference,
especially conspicuous to myself, is the fact that on the starboard
side there appears to have been an absence of women at the points
where the boats were loaded, while on the port side all the boats
loaded, from the first up to the last, found women at hand and ready
to enter them. It was only at the time of the loading of the last boat
“D,” that my friend, Clinch Smith, and I ran up and down the port side
shouting: “Are there any more women?” This too is the testimony of
Officer Lightoller, in charge of loading boats on the port side.


BOAT NO. 7.[21]

    [21] First to leave ship starboard side at 12.45 [Br. Rpt., p.
    38.]

No disorder in loading or lowering this boat.

_Passengers:_ Mesdames Bishop, Earnshaw, Gibson, Greenfield, Potter,
Snyder, and Misses Gibson and Hays, Messrs. Bishop, Chevré, Daniel,
Greenfield, McGough, Maréchal, Seward, Sloper, Snyder, Tucker.

_Transferred from Boat No. 5:_ Mrs. Dodge and her boy; Messrs.
Calderhead and Flynn.

_Crew:_ Seamen: Hogg (in charge), Jewell, Weller.

_Total:_ 28.


INCIDENTS

Archie Jewell, L. O. (Br. Inq.):

Was awakened by the crash and ran at once on deck where he saw a lot
of ice. All went below again to get clothes on. The boatswain called
all hands on deck. Went to No. 7 boat. The ship had stopped. All hands
cleared the boats, cleared away the falls and got them all right. Mr.
Murdoch gave the order to lower boat No. 7 to the rail with women and
children in the boat. Three or four Frenchmen, passengers, got into
the boat. No. 7 was lowered from the Boat Deck. The orders were to
stand by the gangway. This boat was the first on the starboard side
lowered into the water. All the boats were down by the time it was
pulled away from the ship because it was thought she was settling
down.

Witness saw the ship go down by the head very slowly. The other
lifeboats were further off, his being the nearest. No. 7 was then
pulled further off and about half an hour later, or about an hour and
a half after this boat was lowered, and when it was about 200 yards
away, the ship took the final dip. He saw the stern straight up in the
air with the lights still burning. After a few moments she then sank
very quickly and he heard two or three explosions just as the stern
went up in the air. No. 7 picked up no dead bodies. At daylight they
saw a lot of icebergs all around, and reached the _Carpathia_ about 9
o’clock. This boat had no compass and no light. (The above, given in
detail, represents the general testimony of the next witness.)

       *       *       *       *       *

G. A. Hogg, A. B. (Am. Inq., p. 577):

He had forty-two when the boat was shoved from the ship’s side. He
asked a lady if she could steer who said she could. He pulled around
in search of other people. One man said: “We have done our best; there
are no more people around.” He said: “Very good, we will get away
now.” There was not a ripple on the water; it was as smooth as glass.

       *       *       *       *       *

Mrs. H. W. Bishop, first-class passenger (Am. Inq., p. 998):

The captain told Colonel Astor something in an undertone. He came back
and told six of us who were standing with his wife that we had better
put on our life belts. I had gotten down two flights of stairs to tell
my husband, who had returned to the stateroom for the moment, before I
heard the captain announce that the life belts should be put on. We
came back upstairs and found very few people on deck. There was very
little confusion--only the older women were a little frightened. On
the starboard side of the Boat Deck there were only two people--a
young French bride and groom. By that time an old man had come
upstairs and found Mr. and Mrs. Harder, of New York. He brought us all
together and told us to be sure and stay together--that he would be
back in a moment. We never saw him again.

About five minutes later the boats were lowered and we were pushed
in. This was No. 7 lifeboat. My husband was pushed in with me and we
were lowered with twenty-eight people in the boat. We counted off
after we reached the water. There were only about twelve women and the
rest were men--three crew and thirteen male passengers; several
unmarried men--three or four of them foreigners. Somewhat later five
people were put into our boat from another one, making thirty-three in
ours. Then we rowed still further away as the women were nervous about
suction. We had no compass and no light. We arrived at the _Carpathia_
five or ten minutes after five. The conduct of the crew, as far as I
could see, was absolutely beyond criticism. One of the crew in the
boat was Jack Edmonds,(?) and there was another man, a Lookout (Hogg),
of whom we all thought a great deal. He lost his brother.

       *       *       *       *       *

D. H. Bishop, first-class passenger (Am. Inq., p. 1000):

There was an officer stationed at the side of the lifeboat. As
witness’s wife got in, he fell into the boat. The French aviator
Maréchal was in the boat; also Mr. Greenfield and his mother. There
was little confusion on the deck while the boat was being loaded; no
rush to boats at all. Witness agrees with his wife in the matter of
the counting of twenty-eight, but he knows that there were some who
were missed. There was a woman with her baby transferred from another
lifeboat. Witness knows of his own knowledge that No. 7 was the first
boat lowered from the starboard side. They heard no order from any one
for the men to stand back or “women first,” or “women and children
first.” Witness also says that at the time his lifeboat was lowered
that that order had not been given on the starboard side.

       *       *       *       *       *

J. R. McGough’s affidavit (Am. Inq., p. 1143):

After procuring life preservers we went back to the top deck and
discovered that orders had been given to launch the lifeboats, which
were already being launched. Women and children were called for to
board the boats first. Both women and men hesitated and did not feel
inclined to get into the small boats. He had his back turned, looking
in an opposite direction, and was caught by the shoulder by one of the
officers who gave him a push saying: “Here, you are a big fellow; get
into that boat.”

Our boat was launched with twenty-eight people in all. Five were
transferred from one of the others. There were several of us who
wanted drinking water. It was unknown to us that there was a tank of
water and crackers also in our boat until we reached the _Carpathia_.
There was no light in our boat.

       *       *       *       *       *

Mrs. Thomas Potter, Jr. Letter:

There was no panic. Everyone seemed more stunned than anything
else.... We watched for upwards of two hours the gradual sinking of
the ship--first one row of light and then another disappearing at
shorter and shorter intervals, with the bow well bent in the water as
though ready for a dive. After the lights went out, some ten minutes
before the end, she was like some great living thing who made a last
superhuman effort to right herself and then, failing, dove bow forward
to the unfathomable depths below.

We did not row except to get away from the suction of the sinking
ship, but remained lashed to another boat until the _Carpathia_ came
in sight just before dawn.


BOAT NO. 5.[22]

    [22] Second boat lowered on the starboard side at 12.55 (Br.
    Rpt., p. 38.)

No disorder in loading or lowering this boat.

_Passengers:_ Mesdames Cassebeer, Chambers, Crosby, Dodge and her boy,
Frauenthal, Goldenberg, Harder, Kimball, Stehli, Stengel, Taylor,
Warren, and Misses Crosby, Newson, Ostby and Frolicher Stehli.

Messrs. Beckwith, Behr, Calderhead, Chambers, Flynn, Goldenberg,
Harder, Kimball, Stehli, Taylor.

_Bade good-bye to wives and daughters and sank with ship:_ Captain
Crosby, Mr. Ostby and Mr. Warren.

_Jumped from deck into boat being lowered:_ German Doctor Frauenthal
and brother Isaac, P. Maugé.

_Crew:_ 3rd Officer Pitman. Seaman: Olliver, Q. M.; Fireman Shiers;
Stewards, Etches, Guy. Stewardess ----.

_Total:_ 41.


INCIDENTS

H. J. Pitman, 3rd Officer (Am. Inq., p. 277, and Br. Inq.):

I lowered No. 5 boat to the level with the rail of the Boat Deck. A
man in a dressing gown said that we had better get her loaded with
women and children. I said: “I wait the commander’s orders,” to which
he replied: “Very well,” or something like that. It then dawned on me
that it might be Mr. Ismay, judging by the description I had had
given me. I went to the bridge and saw Captain Smith and told him that
I thought it was Mr. Ismay that wanted me to get the boat away with
women and children in it and he said: “Go ahead; carry on.” I came
along and brought in my boat. I stood in it and said: “Come along,
ladies.” There was a big crowd. Mr. Ismay helped get them along. We
got the boat nearly full and I shouted out for any more ladies. None
were to be seen so I allowed a few men to get into it. Then I jumped
on the ship again. Mr. Murdoch said: “You go in charge of this boat
and hang around the after gangway.” About thirty (Br. Inq.) to forty
women were in the boat, two children, half a dozen male passengers,
myself and four of the crew. There would not have been so many men had
there been any women around, but there were none. Murdoch shook hands
with me and said: “Good-bye; good luck,” and I said: “Lower away.”
This boat was the second one lowered on the starboard side. No light
in the boat.

The ship turned right on end and went down perpendicularly. She did
not break in two. I heard a lot of people say that they heard boiler
explosions, but I have my doubts about that. I do not see why the
boilers would burst, because there was no steam there. They should
have been stopped about two hours and a half. The fires had not been
fed so there was very little steam there. From the distance I was from
the ship, if it had occurred, I think I would have known it. As soon
as the ship disappeared I said: “Now, men, we will pull toward the
wreck.” Everyone in my boat said it was a mad idea because we had far
better save what few I had in my boat than go back to the scene of the
wreck and be swamped by the crowds that were there. My boat would have
accommodated a few more--about sixty in all. I turned No. 5 boat
around to go in the direction from which these cries came but was
dissuaded from my purpose by the passengers. My idea of lashing Nos. 5
and 7 together was to keep together so that if anything hove in sight
before daylight we could steady ourselves and cause a far bigger show
than one boat only. I transferred two men and a woman and a child from
my boat to No. 7 to even them up a bit.

       *       *       *       *       *

H. S. Etches, steward (Am. Inq., p. 810):

Witness assisted Mr. Murdoch, Mr. Ismay, Mr. Pitman and Quartermaster
Olliver and two stewards in the loading and launching of No. 7, the
gentlemen being asked to keep back and the ladies in first. There were
more ladies to go in No. 7 because No. 5 boat, which we went to next,
took in over thirty-six ladies. In No. 7 boat I saw one child, a baby
boy, with a small woollen cap. After getting all the women that were
there they called out three times--Mr. Ismay twice--in a loud voice:
“Are there any more women before this boat goes?” and there was no
answer. Mr. Murdoch called out, and at that moment a female came up
whom he did not recognize. Mr. Ismay said: “Come along; jump in.” She
said: “I am only a stewardess.” He said: “Never mind--you are a woman;
take your place.” That was the last woman I saw get into boat No. 5.
There were two firemen in the bow; Olliver, the sailor, and myself;
and Officer Pitman ordered us into the boat and lowered under
Murdoch’s order.

Senator Smith: What other men got into that boat?

Mr. Etches: There was a stout gentleman, sir, stepped forward then. He
had assisted to put his wife in the boat. He leaned forward and she
stood up in the boat and put her arms around his neck and kissed him,
and I heard her say: “I cannot leave you,” and with that I turned my
head. The next moment I saw him sitting beside her in the bottom of
the boat, and some voice said: “Throw that man out of the boat,” but
at that moment they started lowering away and the man remained.

Senator Smith: Who was he?

Mr. Etches: I do not know his name, sir, but he was a very stout
gentleman. (Dr. H. W. Frauenthal.)

We laid off about 100 yards from the ship and waited. She seemed to be
going down at the head and we pulled away about a quarter of a mile
and laid on our oars until the _Titanic_ sank. She seemed to rise once
as though she was going to take a final dive, but sort of checked as
though she had scooped the water up and had levelled herself. She then
seemed to settle very, very quiet, until the last when she rose and
seemed to stand twenty seconds, stern in that position (indicating)
and then she went down with an awful grating, like a small boat
running off a shingley beach. There was no inrush of water, or
anything. Mr. Pitman then said to pull back to the scene of the wreck.
The ladies started calling out. Two ladies sitting in front where I
was pulling said: “Appeal to the officer not to go back. Why should we
lose all of our lives in a useless attempt to save others from the
ship?” We did not go back. When we left the ship No. 5 had forty-two,
including the children and six crew and the officer. Two were
transferred with a lady and a child into boat No. 7.

Senator Smith: Of your own knowledge do you know whether any general
call was made for passengers to rouse themselves from their berths;
and when it was, or whether there was any other signal given?

Mr. Etches: The second steward (Dodd), sir, was calling all around the
ship. He was directing some men to storerooms for provisions for the
lifeboats, and others he was telling to arouse all the passengers and
to tell them to be sure to take their life preservers with them.

There was no lamp in No. 5. On Monday morning we saw a very large floe
of flat ice and three or four bergs between in different places, and
on the other bow there were two large bergs in the distance. The field
ice was about three-quarters of a mile at least from us between four
and five o’clock in the morning. It was well over on the port side of
the _Titanic_ in the position she was going.

       *       *       *       *       *

A. Olliver, Q. M. (Am. Inq., p. 526):

There were so many people in the boat when I got into it that I could
not get near the plug to put the plug in. I implored the passengers to
move so I could do it. When the boat was put in the water I let the
tripper go and water came into the boat. I then forced my way to the
plug and put it in; otherwise it would have been swamped. There was
no rush when I got into the boat. I heard Mr. Pitman give an order to
go back to the ship, but the women passengers implored him not to go.
We were then about 300 yards away. Nearly all objected.

       *       *       *       *       *

A. Shiers, fireman (Br. Inq., p. 48):

He saw no women left. There were about forty men and women in the
boat. There was no confusion among the officers and crew. We did not
go back when the _Titanic_ went down. The women in the boat said:
“Don’t go back.” They said: “If we go back the boat will be swamped.”
No compass in boat.

       *       *       *       *       *

Paul Maugé, Ritz kitchen clerk (Br. Inq.):

Witness was berthed in the third-class corridor. Was awakened and went
up on deck. Went down again and woke up the chef. Going through the
second-class cabin he noticed that the assistants of the restaurant
were there and not allowed to go on the Boat Deck. He saw the second
or third boat on the starboard side let down into the water, and when
it was about ten feet down from the Boat Deck he jumped into it.
Before this he asked the chef to jump, but he was too fat and would
not do so. (Laughter.) I asked him again when I got in the boat, but
he refused. When his boat was passing one of the lower decks one of
the crew of the _Titanic_ tried to pull him out of the boat. He saw no
passengers prevented from going up on deck. He thinks he was allowed
to pass because he was dressed like a passenger.

       *       *       *       *       *

Mrs. Catherine E. Crosby’s affidavit (Am. Inq., p. 1144):

Deponent is the widow of Captain Edward Gifford Crosby and took
passage with him and their daughter, Harriette R. Crosby.

At the time of the collision, Captain Crosby got up, dressed, went
out, came back and said to her: “You will lie there and drown,” and
went out again. He said to their daughter: “The boat is badly damaged,
but I think the water-tight compartments will hold her up.”

Mrs. Crosby then got up and dressed, as did her daughter, and followed
her husband on deck. She got into the first or second boat. About
thirty-six persons got in with them.

There was no discrimination between men and women. Her husband became
separated from her. She was suffering from cold while drifting around
and one of the officers (Pitman) put a sail around her and over her
head to keep her warm.

       *       *       *       *       *

George A. Harder, first-class passenger (Am. Inq., p. 1028):

As we were being lowered, they lowered one side quicker than the
other, but reached the water safely after a few scares. Someone said
the plug was not in, and they could not get the boat detached from the
tackle. Finally, a knife was found and the rope cut. We had about
forty-two people in the boat--about thirty women, Officer Pitman, a
sailor and three men of the crew. We rowed some distance from the
ship--it may have been a quarter or an eighth of a mile. We were
afraid of the suction. Passengers said: “Let us row a little further.”
They did so. Then this other boat, No. 7, came along. We tied
alongside. They had twenty-nine in their boat, and we counted at the
time thirty-six in ours, so we gave them four or five of our people in
order to make it even.

After the ship went down we heard a lot of cries and a continuous
yelling and moaning. I counted about ten icebergs in the morning. Our
boat managed very well. It is true that the officer did want to go
back to the ship, but all the passengers held out and said: “Do not do
that; it would only be foolish; there would be so many around that it
would only swamp the boat.” There was no light in our boat.

  [Illustration: PHOTOGRAPHED FROM THE CARPATHIA, APRIL 15, 1912]

       *       *       *       *       *

C. E. H. Stengel, first cabin passenger (Am. Inq., p. 975):

Senator Smith: Did you see any man attempt to enter these lifeboats
who was forbidden to do so?

Mr. Stengel: I saw two. A certain physician[23] in New York, and his
brother, jumped into the same boat my wife was in. Then the officer,
or the man who was loading the boat said: “I will stop that. I will go
down and get my gun.” He left the deck momentarily and came right back
again. I saw no attempt of anyone else to get into the lifeboats
except these two gentlemen that jumped into the boat after it was
started to lower.

    [23] Dr. H. W. Frauenthal.

Senator Bourne: When you were refused admission into the boat in which
your wife was, were there a number of ladies and children there at the
time?

Mr. Stengel: No, sir, there were not. These two gentlemen had put
their wives in and were standing on the edge of the deck and when they
started lowering away, they jumped in. I saw only two.

       *       *       *       *       *

N. C. Chambers, first-class passenger (Am. Inq., p. 1041):

Witness referring to boat No. 5 as appearing sufficiently loaded says:
“However, my wife said she was going in that boat and proceeded to
jump in, calling to me to come. As I knew she would get out again had
I not come, I finally jumped into the boat, although I did not
consider it, from the looks of things, safe to put many more in. As I
remember it, there were two more men, both called by their wives, who
jumped in after I did. One of them, a German I believe, told me as I
recollect it on the _Carpathia_ that he had looked around and had seen
no one else, and no one to ask whether he could get in, or not, and
had jumped in.” Witness describes the difficulty in finding whether
the plug was in, or not, and recalls someone calling from above: “It’s
your own blooming business to see that the plug is in anyhow.”

       *       *       *       *       *

Mrs. C. E. H. Stengel, first-class passenger, writes as follows:

“As I stepped into the lifeboat an officer in charge said: ‘No more;
the boat is full.’ My husband stepped back, obeying the order. As the
boat was being lowered, four men deliberately jumped into it. One of
them was a Hebrew doctor--another was his brother. This was done at
the risk of the lives of all of us in the boat. The two companions of
this man who did this were the ones who were later transferred to boat
No. 7, to which we were tied. He weighed about 250 pounds and wore
two life preservers. These men who jumped in struck me and a little
child. I was rendered unconscious and two of my ribs were very badly
dislocated. With this exception there was absolutely no confusion and
no disorder in the loading of our boat.”

       *       *       *       *       *

Mrs. F. M. Warren, first-class passenger’s account:

... Following this we then went to our rooms, put on all our heavy
wraps and went to the foot of the grand staircase on Deck D, again
interviewing passengers and crew as to the danger. While standing
there Mr. Andrews, one of the designers of the vessel, rushed by,
going up the stairs. He was asked if there was any danger but made no
reply. But a passenger who was afterwards saved told me that his face
had on it a look of terror. Immediately after this the report became
general that water was in the squash courts, which were on the deck
below where we were standing, and that the baggage had already been
submerged.

At the time we reached the Boat Deck, starboard side, there were very
few passengers there, apparently, but it was dark and we could not
estimate the number. There was a deafening roar of escaping steam, of
which we had not been conscious while inside.

The only people we remembered seeing, except a young woman by the name
of Miss Ostby, who had become separated from her father and was with
us, were Mr. Astor, his wife and servants, who were standing near one
of the boats which was being cleared preparatory to being lowered. The
Astors did not get into this boat. They all went back inside and I saw
nothing of them again until Mrs. Astor was taken onto the _Carpathia_.

We discovered that the boat next to the one the Astors had been near
had been lowered to the level of the deck, so went towards it and were
told by the officers in charge to get in. At this moment both men and
women came crowding toward the spot. I was the second person assisted
in. I supposed that Mr. Warren had followed, but saw when I turned
that he was standing back and assisting the women. People came in so
rapidly in the darkness that it was impossible to distinguish them,
and I did not see him again.

The boat was commanded by Officer Pitman and manned by four of the
_Titanic’s_ men. The lowering of the craft was accomplished with great
difficulty. First one end and then the other was dropped at apparently
dangerous angles, and we feared that we would swamp as soon as we
struck the water.

Mr. Pitman’s orders were to pull far enough away to avoid suction if
the ship sank. The sea was like glass, so smooth that the stars were
clearly reflected. We were pulled quite a distance away and then
rested, watching the rockets in terrible anxiety and realizing that
the vessel was rapidly sinking, bow first. She went lower and lower,
until the lower lights were extinguished, and then suddenly rose by
the stern and slipped from sight. We had no light on our boat and were
left in intense darkness save from an occasional glimmer of light from
other lifeboats and one steady green light on one of the ship’s boats
which the officers of the _Carpathia_ afterwards said was of material
assistance in aiding them to come direct to the spot.

With daylight the wind increased and the sea became choppy, and we saw
icebergs in every direction; some lying low in the water and others
tall, like ships, and some of us thought they were ships. I was on the
second boat picked up.

From the time of the accident until I left the ship there was nothing
which in any way resembled a panic. There seemed to be a sort of
aimless confusion and an utter lack of organized effort.


BOAT NO. 3.[24]

    [24] Third boat lowered on starboard side 1.00 (Br. Rpt., p.
    38).

No disorder in loading or lowering this boat.

_Passengers:_ Mesdames Cardeza and maid (Anna Hard), Davidson, Dick,
Graham, Harper, Hays and maid (Miss Pericault), Spedden and maid
(Helen Wilson) and son Douglas and his trained nurse, Miss Burns, and
Misses Graham and Shutes.

_Men:_ Messrs. Cardeza and man-servant (Lesneur), Dick, Harper and
man-servant (Hamad Hassah) and Spedden.

_Men who helped load women and children in this boat and sank with the
ship:_ Messrs. Case, Davidson, Hays and Roebling.

_Crew:_ Seamen: Moore (in charge), Forward Pascoe. Steward: McKay;
Firemen: “5 or 6”; or “10 or 12.”

_Total:_ 40.[25]

    [25] British Report (p. 38) says 15 crew, 10 men passengers, 25
    women and children. Total 50.


INCIDENTS

G. Moore, A. B. (Am. Inq., p. 559):

When we swung boat No. 3 out I was told by the first officer to jump
in the boat and pass the ladies in, and when there were no more about
we took in men passengers. We had thirty-two in the boat, all told,
and then lowered away. Two seamen were in the boat. There were a few
men passengers and some five or six firemen. They got in after all the
women and children. I took charge of the boat at the tiller.

       *       *       *       *       *

Mrs. Frederick O. Spedden, first-class passenger’s account:

... Number 3 and Number 5 were both marked on our boat. Our seaman
told me that it was an old one taken from some other ship,[26] and he
didn’t seem sure at the time which was the correct number, which
apparently was 3.

    [26] “All boats were new and none transferred from another
    ship,” President Ismay’s testimony.

We tied up to a boat filled with women once, but the rope broke and we
got pretty well separated from all the other lifeboats for some time.
We had in all about forty in our boat, including ten or twelve stokers
in the bow with us who seemed to exercise complete control over our
coxswain, and urged him to order the men to row away from the sinking
_Titanic_, as they were in mortal terror of the suction. Two oars were
lost soon after we started and they didn’t want to take the time to go
back after them, in spite of some of the passengers telling them that
there was absolutely no danger from suction. All this accounts for the
fact of our being some distance off when the ship went down. We
couldn’t persuade the coxswain to turn around till we saw the lights
of the _Carpathia_ on the horizon. It was then that we burned some
paper, as we couldn’t find our lantern. When the dawn appeared and my
small boy Douglas saw the bergs around us and remarked: “Oh, Muddie,
look at the beautiful north pole with no Santa Claus on it,” we all
couldn’t refrain from smiling in spite of the tragedy of the
situation.

       *       *       *       *       *

No more accurately written or interesting account (one which I freely
confess moves me to tears whenever re-read) has come to my notice than
the following, which I have the consent of the author to insert in its
entirety:

    WHEN THE “TITANIC” WENT DOWN

        By

    Miss Elizabeth W. Shutes

    Such a biting cold air poured into my stateroom that I could not
    sleep, and the air had so strange an odor,[27] as if it came
    from a clammy cave. I had noticed that same odor in the ice cave
    on the Eiger glacier. It all came back to me so vividly that I
    could not sleep, but lay in my berth until the cabin grew so
    very cold that I got up and turned on my electric stove. It
    threw a cheerful red glow around, and the room was soon
    comfortable; but I lay waiting. I have always loved both day and
    night on shipboard, and am never fearful of anything, but now I
    was nervous about the icy air.

        [27] Seaman Lee testifies to this odor.

    Suddenly a queer quivering ran under me, apparently the whole
    length of the ship. Startled by the very strangeness of the
    shivering motion, I sprang to the floor. With too perfect a
    trust in that mighty vessel I again lay down. Some one knocked
    at my door, and the voice of a friend said: “Come quickly to my
    cabin; an iceberg has just passed our window; I know we have
    just struck one.”

    No confusion, no noise of any kind, one could believe no danger
    imminent. Our stewardess came and said she could learn nothing.
    Looking out into the companionway I saw heads appearing asking
    questions from half-closed doors. All sepulchrally still, no
    excitement. I sat down again. My friend was by this time
    dressed; still her daughter and I talked on, Margaret
    pretending to eat a sandwich. Her hand shook so that the bread
    kept parting company from the chicken. Then I saw she was
    frightened, and for the first time I was too, but why get
    dressed, as no one had given the slightest hint of any possible
    danger? An officer’s cap passed the door. I asked: “Is there an
    accident or danger of any kind?” “None, so far as I know,” was
    his courteous answer, spoken quietly and most kindly. This same
    officer then entered a cabin a little distance down the
    companionway and, by this time distrustful of everything, I
    listened intently, and distinctly heard, “We can keep the water
    out for a while.” Then, and not until then, did I realize the
    horror of an accident at sea. Now it was too late to dress; no
    time for a waist, but a coat and skirt were soon on; slippers
    were quicker than shoes; the stewardess put on our
    life-preservers, and we were just ready when Mr. Roebling came
    to tell us he would take us to our friend’s mother, who was
    waiting above.

    We passed by the palm room, where two short hours before we had
    listened to a beautiful concert, just as one might sit in one’s
    own home. With never a realizing sense of being on the ocean,
    why should not one forget?--no motion, no noise of machinery,
    nothing suggestive of a ship. Happy, laughing men and women
    constantly passing up and down those broad, strong staircases,
    and the music went on and the ship went on--nearer and nearer to
    its end. So short a life, so horrible a death for that great,
    great ship. What is a more stupendous work than a ship! The
    almost human pieces of machinery, yet a helpless child,
    powerless in its struggle with an almighty sea, and the great
    boat sank, fragile as a rowboat.

    How different are these staircases now! No laughing throng, but
    on either side stand quietly, bravely, the stewards, all
    equipped with the white, ghostly life-preservers. Always the
    thing one tries not to see even crossing a ferry. Now only pale
    faces, each form strapped about with those white bars. So
    gruesome a scene. We passed on. The awful good-byes. The quiet
    look of hope in the brave men’s eyes as the wives were put into
    the lifeboats. Nothing escaped one at this fearful moment. We
    left from the Sun Deck, seventy-five feet above the water. Mr.
    Case and Mr. Roebling, brave American men, saw us to the
    lifeboat, made no effort to save themselves, but stepped back on
    deck. Later they went to an honored grave.

    Our lifeboat, with thirty-six in it, began lowering to the sea.
    This was done amid the greatest confusion. Rough seamen all
    giving different orders. No officer aboard. As only one side of
    the ropes worked, the lifeboat at one time was in such a
    position that it seemed we must capsize in mid-air. At last the
    ropes worked together, and we drew nearer and nearer the black,
    oily water. The first touch of our lifeboat on that black sea
    came to me as a last good-bye to life, and so we put off--a tiny
    boat on a great sea--rowed away from what had been a safe home
    for five days. The first wish on the part of all was to stay
    near the _Titanic_. We all felt so much safer near the ship.
    Surely such a vessel could not sink. I thought the danger must
    be exaggerated, and we could all be taken aboard again. But
    surely the outline of that great, good ship was growing less.
    The bow of the boat was getting black. Light after light was
    disappearing, and now those rough seamen put to their oars and
    we were told to hunt under seats, any place, anywhere, for a
    lantern, a light of any kind. Every place was empty. There was
    no water--no stimulant of any kind. Not a biscuit--nothing to
    keep us alive had we drifted long. Had no good _Carpathia_, with
    its splendid Captain Rostron, its orderly crew, come to our
    rescue we must have all perished. Our men knew nothing about the
    position of the stars, hardly how to pull together. Two oars
    were soon overboard. The men’s hands were too cold to hold on.
    We stopped while they beat their hands and arms, then started on
    again. A sea, calm as a pond, kept our boat steady, and now that
    mammoth ship is fast, fast disappearing. Only one tiny light is
    left--a powerless little spark, a lantern fastened to the mast.
    Fascinated, I watched that black outline until the end. Then
    across the water swept that awful wail, the cry of those
    drowning people. In my ears I heard: “She’s gone, lads; row like
    hell or we’ll get the devil of a swell.” And the horror, the
    helpless horror, the worst of all--need it have been?

    To-day the question is being asked, “Would the _Titanic_
    disaster be so discussed had it not been for the great wealth
    gathered there?” It surely would be, for at a time like this
    wealth counts for nothing, but man’s philanthropy, man’s brains,
    man’s heroism, count forever. So many men that stood for the
    making of a great nation, morally and politically, were swept
    away by the sinking of that big ship. That is why, day after
    day, the world goes on asking the why of it all. Had a kind
    Providence a guiding hand in this? Did our nation need so mighty
    a stroke to prove that man had grown too self-reliant, too sure
    of his own power over God’s sea? God’s part was the saving of
    the few souls on that calmest of oceans on that fearful night.
    Man’s part was the pushing of the good ship, pushing against all
    reason, to save what?--a few hours and lose a thousand souls--to
    have the largest of ships arrive in port even a few hours sooner
    than anticipated. Risk all, but push, push on, on. The icebergs
    could be avoided. Surely man’s experience ought to have lent
    aid, but just so surely it did not.

    In years past a tendency to live more simply away from pomp and
    display led to the founding of our American nation. Now what are
    we demanding to-day? Those same needless luxuries. If they were
    not demanded they would not be supplied. Gymnasiums, swimming
    pools, tea rooms, had better give way to make space for the
    necessary number of lifeboats; lifeboats for the crew, also, who
    help pilot the good ship across the sea.

    Sitting by me in the lifeboat were a mother and daughter (Mrs.
    Hays and Mrs. Davidson). The mother had left a husband on the
    _Titanic_, and the daughter a father and husband, and while we
    were near the other boats those two stricken women would call
    out a name and ask, “Are you there?” “No,” would come back the
    awful answer, but these brave women never lost courage, forgot
    their own sorrow, telling me to sit close to them to keep warm.
    Now I began to wish for the warm velvet suit I left hanging in
    my cabin. I had thought of it for a minute, and then had quickly
    thrown on a lighter weight skirt. I knew the heavier one would
    make the life-preserver less useful. Had I only known how calm
    the ocean was that night, I would have felt that death was not
    so sure, and would have dressed for life rather than for the
    end. The life-preservers helped to keep us warm, but the night
    was bitter cold, and it grew colder and colder, and just before
    dawn, the coldest, darkest hour of all, no help seemed possible.
    As we put off from the _Titanic_ never was a sky more brilliant,
    never have I seen so many falling stars. All tended to make
    those distress rockets that were sent up from the sinking ship
    look so small, so dull and futile. The brilliancy of the sky
    only intensified the blackness of the water, our utter
    loneliness on the sea. The other boats had drifted away from us;
    we must wait now for dawn and what the day was to bring us we
    dare not even hope. To see if I could not make the night seem
    shorter, I tried to imagine myself again in Japan. We had made
    two strange night departures there, and I was unafraid, and this
    Atlantic now was calmer than the Inland sea had been at that
    time. This helped a while, but my hands were freezing cold, and
    I had to give up pretending and think of the dawn that must
    soon come.

    Two rough looking men had jumped into our boat as we were about
    to lower, and they kept striking matches, lighting cigars, until
    I feared we would have no matches left and might need them, so I
    asked them not to use any more, but they kept on. I do not know
    what they looked like. It was too dark to really distinguish
    features clearly, and when the dawn brought the light it brought
    something so wonderful with it no one looked at anything else or
    anyone else. Some one asked: “What time is it?” Matches were
    still left; one was struck. Four o’clock! Where had the hours of
    the night gone? Yes, dawn would soon be here; and it came, so
    surely, so strong with cheer. The stars slowly disappeared, and
    in their place came the faint pink glow of another day. Then I
    heard, “A light, a ship.” I could not, would not, look while
    there was a bit of doubt, but kept my eyes away. All night long
    I had heard, “A light!” Each time it proved to be one of our
    other lifeboats, someone lighting a piece of paper, anything
    they could find to burn, and now I could not believe. Someone
    found a newspaper; it was lighted and held up. Then I looked and
    saw a ship. A ship bright with lights; strong and steady she
    waited, and we were to be saved. A straw hat was offered (Mrs.
    Davidson’s); it would burn longer. That same ship that had come
    to save us might run us down. But no; she is still. The two, the
    ship and the dawn, came together, a living painting. White was
    the vessel, but whiter still were those horribly beautiful
    icebergs, and as we drew nearer and nearer that good ship we
    drew nearer to those mountains of ice. As far as the eye could
    reach they rose. Each one more fantastically chiselled than its
    neighbor. The floe glistened like an ever-ending meadow covered
    with new-fallen snow. Those same white mountains, marvellous in
    their purity, had made of the just ended night one of the
    blackest the sea has ever known. And near them stood the ship
    which had come in such quick response to the _Titanic’s_ call
    for help. The man who works over hours is always the worthwhile
    kind, and the Marconi operator awaiting a belated message had
    heard the poor ship’s call for help, and we few out of so many
    were saved.

    From the _Carpathia_ a rope forming a tiny swing was lowered
    into our lifeboat, and one by one we were drawn into safety. The
    lady pulled up just ahead of me was very large, and I felt
    myself being jerked fearfully, when I heard some one say:
    “Careful, fellers; she’s a lightweight.” I bumped and bumped
    against the side of the ship until I felt like a bag of meal. My
    hands were so cold I could hardly hold on to the rope, and I was
    fearful of letting go. Again I heard: “Steady, fellers; not so
    fast!” I felt I should let go and bounce out of the ropes; I
    hardly think that would have been possible, but I felt so at the
    time. At last I found myself at an opening of some kind and
    there a kind doctor wrapped me in a warm rug and led me to the
    dining room, where warm stimulants were given us immediately and
    everything possible was done for us all. Lifeboats kept coming
    in, and heart-rending was the sight as widow after widow was
    brought aboard. Each hoped some lifeboat ahead of hers might
    have brought her husband safely to this waiting vessel. But
    always no.

    I was still so cold that I had to get a towel and tie it around
    my waist. Then I went back to the dining-room and found dear
    little Louis,[28] the French baby, lying alone; his cold, bare
    feet had become unwrapped. I put a hot water bottle against this
    very beautiful boy. He smiled his thanks.

        [28] One of the Navratil children whose pathetic story has been
        fully related in the newspapers.

    Knowing how much better I felt after taking the hot stimulant, I
    tried to get others to take something; but often they just
    shook their heads and said, “Oh, I can’t.”

    Towards night we remembered we had nothing--no comb, brush,
    nothing of any kind--so we went to the barber-shop. The barber
    always has everything, but now he had only a few toothbrushes
    left. I bought a cloth cap of doubtful style; and felt like a
    walking orphan asylum, but very glad to have anything to cover
    my head. There were also a few showy silk handkerchiefs left. On
    the corner of each was embroidered in scarlet, “From a friend.”
    These we bought and we were now fitted out for our three
    remaining days at sea.

    Patiently through the dismal, foggy days we lived, waiting for
    land and possible news of the lost. For the brave American man,
    a heart full of gratitude, too deep for words, sends out a
    thanksgiving. That such men are born, live and die for others is
    a cause for deep gratitude. What country could have shown such
    men as belong to our American manhood? Thank God for them and
    for their noble death.


EMERGENCY BOAT NO. 1.[29]

    [29] This was the fourth boat to leave the starboard side.

No disorder in loading or lowering this boat.

_Passengers:_ Lady Duff Gordon and maid (Miss Francatelli).

_Men:_ Lord Duff Gordon and Messrs. Solomon and Stengel.

_Total:_ 5.

_Crew:_ Seamen: Symons (in charge), Horswell. Firemen: Collins,
Hendrickson, Pusey, Shee, Taylor.

_Total:_ 7.

_Grand Total:_ 12.


INCIDENTS

G. Symons, A. B. (Br. Inq.):

Witness assisted in putting passengers in Nos. 5 and 3 under Mr.
Murdoch’s orders, women and children first. He saw 5 and 3 lowered
away and went to No. 1. Mr. Murdoch ordered another sailor and five
firemen in. Witness saw two ladies running out of the Saloon Deck who
asked if they could get in the boat. Murdoch said: “Jump in.” The
officer looked around for more, but none were in sight and he ordered
to lower away, with the witness in charge. Before leaving the Boat
Deck witness saw a white light a point and a half on the port bow
about five miles away.

Just after boat No. 1 got away, the water was up to C Deck just under
where the ship’s name is. Witness got about 200 yards away and
ordered the crew to lay on their oars. The ship’s stern was well up in
the air. The foremost lights had disappeared and the only light left
was the mast light. The stern was up out of the water at an angle of
forty-five degrees; the propeller could just be seen. The boat was
pulled away a little further to escape suction; then he stopped and
watched.

After the _Titanic_ went down he heard the people shrieking for help,
but was afraid to go back for fear of their swarming upon him, though
there was plenty of room in the boat for eight or a dozen more. He
determined on this course himself as “_master of the situation_.”[30]
About a day before landing in New York a present of five pounds came
as a surprise to the witness from Sir Cosmo Duff Gordon.

    [30] Italics are mine.--Author.

The President: You state that you were surprised that no one in the
boat suggested that you should go back to the assistance of the
drowning people?

Witness: Yes.

The President: Why were you surprised?

Witness: I fully expected someone to do so.

The President: It seemed reasonable that such a suggestion should be
made?

Witness: Yes; I should say it would have been reasonable.

The President: You said in America to Senator Perkins that you had
fourteen to twenty passengers in the boat?

Witness: I thought I had; I was in the dark.

The President: You were not in the dark when you gave that evidence.

Witness said he thought he was asked how many people there were in the
boat, all told.

The Attorney General: You meant that the 14 to 20 meant everybody?

Witness: Yes.

The Attorney General: But you know you only had twelve all told?

Witness: Yes.

The President: You must have known perfectly well when you gave this
evidence that the number in your boat was twelve. Why did you tell
them in America that there were fourteen to twenty in the boat?

Witness: I do not know; it was a mistake I made then and the way they
muddled us up.

The Attorney General: It was a very plain question. Did you know the
names of any passengers?

Witness: I knew Sir Cosmo Duff Gordon’s name when we arrived in
America.

The Attorney General: Did you say anything in America about having
received the five pounds?

Witness: No, sir; and I was not asked.

The Attorney General: You were asked these very questions in America
which we have been putting to you to-day about going back?

Witness: Yes, sir.

The Attorney General: Why did you not say that you heard the cries,
but in the exercise of your discretion as “master of the situation”
you did not go back?

Witness: They took us in three at a time in America and they hurried
us through the questions.

The Attorney General: They asked you: “Did you make any effort to get
there,” and you said: “Yes; we went back and could not see anything.”
But you said nothing about your discretion. Why did you not tell them
that part of the story? You realized that if you had gone back you
might have rescued a good many people?

Witness: Yes.

The Attorney General: The sea was calm, the night was calm and there
could not have been a more favorable night for rescuing people?

Witness: Yes.

       *       *       *       *       *

The testimony at the American Inquiry above referred to, because of
which this witness was called to account, follows:

G. Symons, L. O. (Am. Inq., p. 573):

I was in command of boat No. 1.

Senator Perkins: How many passengers did you have on her?

Mr. Symons: From fourteen to twenty.

Senator Perkins: Were they passengers or crew?

Mr. Symons: There were seven men ordered in; two seamen and five
firemen. They were ordered in by Mr. Murdoch.

Senator Perkins: How many did you have all told?

Mr. Symons: I would not say for certain; it was fourteen or twenty.
Then we were ordered away.

Senator Perkins: You did not return to the ship again?

Mr. Symons: Yes; we came back after the ship was gone and saw nothing.

Senator Perkins: Did you rescue anyone that was in the water?

Mr. Symons: No, sir; we saw nothing when we came back.

Witness then testified that there was no confusion or excitement among
the passengers. It was just the same as if it was an everyday affair.
He never saw any rush whatever to get into either of the two boats. He
heard the cries of the people in the water.

Senator Perkins: Did you say your boat could take more? Did you make
any effort to get them?

Mr. Symons: Yes. We came back, but when we came back we did not see
anybody or hear anybody.

He says that his boat could have accommodated easily ten more. He was
in charge of her and was ordered away by Officer Murdoch. Did not pull
back to the ship again until she went down.

Senator Perkins: And so you made no attempt to save any other people
after you were ordered to pull away from the ship by someone?

Mr. Symons: I pulled off and came back after the ship had gone down.

Senator Perkins: And then there were no people there?

Mr. Symons: No, sir; I never saw any.

       *       *       *       *       *

C. E. H. Stengel, first-class passenger (Am. Inq., p. 971):

There was a small boat they called an Emergency boat in which were
three people, Sir Duff Gordon, his wife and Miss Francatelli. I asked
to get into the boat. There was no one else around that I could see
except the people working at the boats. The officer said: “Jump in.”
The railing was rather high. I jumped onto it and rolled into the
boat. The officer said: “That’s the funniest thing I have seen
to-night,” and laughed heartily. After getting down part of the way
the boat began to tip and somebody “hollered” to stop lowering. A man
named A. L. Solomon also asked to get in with us. There were five
passengers, three stokers and two seamen in the boat.

Senator Smith: Do you know who gave instructions?

Mr. Stengel: I think between Sir Cosmo Duff Gordon and myself we
decided which way to go. We followed a light that was to the bow of
the ship.... Most of the boats rowed toward that light, and after the
green lights began to burn I suggested that it was better to turn
around and go towards them. They were from another lifeboat. When I
got into the boat it was right up against the side of the ship. If it
had not been, I would have gone right out into the water because I
rolled. I did not step in it; I just simply rolled. There was one of
the icebergs particularly that I noticed--a very large one which
looked something like the Rock of Gibraltar.


THE DUFF GORDON EPISODE

Charles Hendrickson, leading fireman (Br. Inq.):

When the ship sank we picked up nobody. The passengers would not
listen to our going back. Of the twelve in the boat, seven were of the
crew. Symons, who was in charge, said nothing and we all kept our
mouths shut. None of the crew objected to going back. It was a woman
who objected, Lady Duff Gordon, who said we would be swamped. People
screaming for help could be heard by everyone in our boat. I suggested
going back. Heard no one else do so. Mr. Duff Gordon upheld his wife.

After we got on the _Carpathia_ Gordon sent for them all and said he
would make them a present. He was surprised to receive five pounds
from him the day after docking in New York.

       *       *       *       *       *

Hendrickson recalled.

Witness cross examined by Sir Cosmo Duff Gordon’s counsel.

What did you say about Sir Cosmo’s alleged statement preventing you
from going back?

Witness: It was up to us to go back.

Did anyone in the boat say anything to you about going back?

Witness: Lady Duff Gordon said something to the effect that if we
went back the boat would be swamped.

Who was it that first said anything about Sir Cosmo making a
presentation to the crew?

Witness: Fireman Collins came down and said so when we were on board
the _Carpathia_.

Before we left the _Carpathia_ all the people rescued were
photographed together. We members of the crew wrote our names on Lady
Duff Gordon’s lifebelt. From the time we first left off rowing until
the time the vessel sank, Lady Duff Gordon was violently seasick and
lying on the oars.

       *       *       *       *       *

A. E. Horswell, A. B. (Br. Inq.):

Witness said it would have been quite a safe and proper thing to have
gone back and that it was an inhuman thing not to do so, but he had to
obey the orders of the coxswain. Two days after boarding the
_Carpathia_ some gentlemen sent for him and he received a present.

       *       *       *       *       *

J. Taylor, fireman (Br. Inq.):

Witness testifies that No. 1 boat stood by about 100 yards to avoid
suction and was 200 yards off when the _Titanic_ sank. He heard a
suggestion made about going back and a lady passenger talked of the
boat’s being swamped if they did so. Two gentlemen in the boat said
it would be dangerous.

Did your boat ever get within reach of drowning people?

Witness: No.

How many more could the boat have taken in?

Witness: Twenty-five or thirty in addition to those already in it.

Did any of the crew object to going back?

Witness: No.

Did you ever hear of a boat’s crew consisting of six sailors and one
fireman?

Witness: No.

Lord Mersey: What was it that Sir Cosmo Duff Gordon said to you in the
boat?

Witness: He said he would write to our homes and to our wives and let
them know that we were safe.

Witness said he received five pounds when he was on board the
_Carpathia_.

       *       *       *       *       *

R. W. Pusey, fireman (Br. Inq.):

After the ship went down we heard cries for a quarter of an hour, or
twenty minutes. Did not go back in the direction the _Titanic_ had
sunk. I heard one of the men say: “We have lost our kit,” and then
someone said: “Never mind, we will give you enough to get a new kit.”
I was surprised that no one suggested going back. I was surprised
that I did not do so, but we were all half dazed. It does occur to me
now that we might have gone back and rescued some of the strugglers. I
heard Lady Duff Gordon say to Miss Francatelli: “You have lost your
beautiful nightdress,” and I said: “Never mind, you have saved your
lives; but we have lost our kit”; and then Sir Cosmo offered to
provide us with new ones.

       *       *       *       *       *

Sir Cosmo Duff Gordon (Br. Inq.):

No. 7 was the first boat I went to. It was just being filled. There
were only women and the boat was lowered away. No. 3 was partially
filled with women, and as there were no more, they filled it up with
men. My wife would not go without me. Some men on No. 3 tried to force
her away, but she would not go. I heard an officer say: “Man No. 1
boat.” I said to him: “May we get in that boat?” He said: “With
pleasure; I wish you would.” He handed the ladies in and then put two
Americans in, and after that he said to two or three firemen that they
had better get in. When the boat was lowered I thought the _Titanic_
was in a very grave condition. At the time I thought that certainly
all the women had gotten off. No notice at all was taken in our boat
of these cries. No thought entered my mind about its being possible to
go back and try to save some of these people. I made a promise of a
present to the men in the boat.

There was a man sitting next to me and about half an hour after the
_Titanic_ sank a man said to me: “I suppose you have lost everything?”
I said: “Yes.” He said: “I suppose you can get more.” I said: “Yes.”
He said: “Well, we have lost all our kit, for we shall not get
anything out of the Company, and our pay ceases from to-night.” I
said: “Very well, I will give you five pounds each towards your kit.”

Were the cries from the _Titanic_ clear enough to hear the words, “My
God, My God”?

No. You have taken that from the story in the American papers.

Mr. Stengel in his evidence in New York said, “Between Mr. Duff Gordon
and myself we decided the direction of the boat.”

That’s not so; I did not speak to the coxswain in any way.

       *       *       *       *       *

Lady Duff Gordon (Br. Inq.):

After the three boats had been gotten away my husband and I were left
standing on the deck. Then my husband went up and said, might we not
get into this boat, and the officer said very politely: “If you will
do so I should be very pleased.” Then somebody hitched me up at the
back, lifted me up and pitched me into the boat. My husband and Miss
Francatelli were also pitched into the boat; and then two Americans
were also pitched in on top of us. Before the _Titanic_ sank I heard
terrible cries.

Q. Is it true in an article signed by what purports to be your
signature that you heard the last cry which was that of a man
shouting, “My God, My God”?

A. Absolutely untrue.

Address by Mr. A. Clement Edwards, M. P., Counsel for Dock Workers’
Union (Br. Inq.):

Referring to the Duff Gordon incident he said that the evidence showed
that in one of the boats there were only seven seamen and five
passengers. If we admitted that, this boat had accommodation for
twenty-eight more passengers.

The primary responsibility for this must necessarily be placed on the
member of the crew who was in charge of the boat--Symons, no conduct
of anyone else in the boat, however reprehensible, relieving that man
from such responsibility.

Here was a boat only a short distance from the ship, so near that the
cries of those struggling in the water could be heard. Symons had been
told to stand by the ship, and that imposed upon him a specific duty.
It was shown in Hendrickson’s evidence that there was to the fullest
knowledge of those in the boat a large number of people in the water,
and that someone suggested that they should return and try to rescue
them. Then it was proved that one of the ladies, who was shown to be
Lady Duff Gordon, had said that the boat might be swamped if they went
back, and Sir Cosmo Duff Gordon had admitted that this also
represented his mental attitude at the time. He (Mr. Edwards) was
going to say, and to say quite fearlessly, that a state of mind which
could, while within the hearing of the screams of drowning people,
think of so material a matter as the giving of money to replace kits
was a state of mind which must have contemplated the fact that there
was a possibility of rescuing some of these people, and the danger
which might arise if this were attempted.

He was not going to say that there was a blunt, crude bargain, or a
deal done with these men: “If you will not go back I will give you
five pounds”; but he was going to suggest as a right and true
inference that the money was mentioned at that time under these
circumstances to give such a sense of ascendancy or supremacy to Sir
Cosmo Duff Gordon in the boat that the view to which he gave
expression that they should not go back would weigh more with the men
than if he had given it as a piece of good advice. There were
twenty-eight places on that boat and no one on board had a right to
save his own life by avoiding any possible risk involved in filling
the vacant places. To say the least of it, it was most reprehensible
that there should have been any offer of money calculated to influence
the minds of the men or to seduce them from their duty.

       *       *       *       *       *

From the address of the Attorney-General, Sir Rufus Isaacs, K. C.,
M. P. (Br. Inq.):

In regard to boat No. 1, I have to make some comment. This was the
Emergency boat on the starboard side, which figured somewhat
prominently in the inquiry on account of the evidence which was given
in the first instance by Hendrickson, and which led to the calling of
Sir Cosmo Duff Gordon. Any comment I have to make in regard to that
boat is, I wish to say, not directed to Sir Cosmo or his wife. For my
part, I would find it impossible to make any harsh or severe comment
on the conduct of any woman who, in circumstances such as these, found
herself on the water in a small boat on a dark night, and was afraid
to go back because she thought there was a danger of being swamped. At
any rate, I will make no comment about that, and the only reason I am
directing attention to No. 1 boat is that it is quite plain that it
was lowered with twelve persons in it instead of forty. I am unable to
say why it was that that boat was so lowered with only five passengers
and seven of the crew on board, but that circumstance, I contend,
shows the importance of boat drill.

As far as he knew from the evidence, no order was given as to the
lowering of this boat. He regretted to say that he was quite unable to
offer any explanation of it, but he could not see why the boat was
lowered under the circumstances. The point of this part of the inquiry
was two-fold--(1) the importance of a boat drill; (2) that you should
have the men ready.

No doubt if there had been proper organization there would have been a
greater possibility of saving more passengers. What struck one was
that no one seemed to have known what his duty was or how many persons
were to be placed in the boat before it was lowered. In all cases no
boat had its complement of what could be carried on this particular
night. The vessel was on her first passage, and if all her crew had
been engaged on the next voyage no doubt things would have been
better, but there was no satisfactory organization with regard to
calling passengers and getting them on deck. Had these boats had
their full complement it would have been another matter, but the worst
of them was this boat No. 1, because the man, Symons, in charge did
not exercise his duty. No doubt he was told to stand by, but he went
quite a distance away. His evidence was unsatisfactory, and gave no
proper account why he did not return. He only said that he “exercised
his discretion,” and that he was “master of the situation.” There was,
however, no explanation why he went away and why he did not go back
except that he would be swamped. That was no explanation. I can see no
justification for his not going back. From the evidence, there were no
people on the starboard deck at the time. They must have been mistaken
in making that statement, because, as they knew, four more boats were
subsequently lowered with a number of women and children. The capacity
of this boat was forty. No other boat went away with so small a
proportion as compared with its capacity, and there was no other boat
which went away with a larger number of the crew. I confess it is a
thing which I do not understand why that boat was lowered when she
was. Speaking generally, the only boats that took their full quantity
were four. One had to see what explanation could be given of that. In
this particular case it happened that the officers were afraid the
boats would buckle. Then they said that no more women were available,
and, thirdly, it was contemplated to go back. It struck one as very
regrettable that the officers should have doubts in their minds on
these points with regard to the capacity of the boats.


BOAT NO. 9.[31]

    [31] The fifth boat lowered on starboard side, 1.20 (Br. Rpt.,
    p. 38).

No disorder when this boat was loaded and lowered.

_Passengers:_ Mesdames Aubert and maid (Mlle. Segesser), Futrelle,
Lines; Miss Lines, and second and third-class.

_Men:_ Two or three.

_Said good-bye to wife and sank with ship:_ Mr. Futrelle.

_Crew:_ Seamen: Haines (in charge), Wynne, Q. M., McGough, Peters;
Stewards: Ward, Widgery and others.

_Total:_ 56.


INCIDENTS

A. Haines, boatswain’s mate (Am. Inq., p. 755):

Officer Murdoch and witness filled boat 9 with ladies. None of the men
passengers tried to get into the boats. Officer Murdoch told them to
stand back. There was one woman who refused to get in because she was
afraid. When there were no more women forthcoming the boat was full,
when two or three men jumped into the bow. There were two sailors,
three or four stewards, three or four firemen and two or three men
passengers. No. 9 was lowered from the Boat Deck with sixty-three
people in the boat and lowered all right. Officer Murdoch put the
witness in charge and ordered him to row off and keep clear of the
ship. When we saw it going down by the head he pulled further away for
the safety of the people in the boat: about 100 yards away at first.
Cries were heard after the ship went down. He consulted with the
sailors about going back and concluded with so many in the boat it was
unsafe to do so. There was no compass in the boat, but he had a little
pocket lamp. On Monday morning he saw from thirty to fifty icebergs
and a big field of ice miles long and large bergs and “growlers,” the
largest from eighty to one hundred feet high.

       *       *       *       *       *

W. Wynne, Q. M. (Br. Inq.):

Officer Murdoch ordered witness into boat No. 9. He assisted the
ladies and took an oar. He says there were fifty-six all told in the
boat, forty-two of whom were women. He saw the light of a steamer--a
red light first, and then a white one--about seven or eight miles
away. After an interval both lights disappeared. Ten or fifteen
minutes afterwards he saw a white light again in the same direction.
There was no lamp or compass in the boat.

       *       *       *       *       *

W. Ward, steward (Am. Inq., p. 595):

Witness assisted in taking the canvas cover off of boat No. 9 and
lowered it to the level of the Boat Deck.[32]

    [32] Brice, A. B. (Am. Inq., p. 648) and Wheate, Ass’t. 2nd
    Steward (Br. Inq.), say No. 9 was filled from A Deck with women
    and children only.

Officer Murdoch, Purser McElroy and Mr. Ismay were near this boat when
being loaded. A sailor came along with a bag and threw it into the
boat. He said he had been sent to take charge of it by the captain.
The boatswain’s mate, Haines, was there and ordered him out. He got
out. Either Purser McElroy or Officer Murdoch said: “Pass the women
and children that are here into that boat.” There were several men
standing around and they fell back. There were quite a quantity of
women but he could not say how many were helped into the boat. There
were no children. One old lady made a great fuss and absolutely
refused to enter the boat. She went back to the companionway and
forced her way in and would not get into the boat. One woman, a French
lady, fell and hurt herself a little. Purser McElroy ordered two more
men into the boat to assist the women. When No. 9 was being lowered
the first listing of the ship was noticeable.

From the rail to the boat was quite a distance to step down to the
bottom of it, and in the dark the women could not see where they were
stepping. Purser McElroy told witness to get into the boat to assist
the women. Women were called for, but none came along and none were
seen on deck at the time. Three or four men were then taken into the
boat until the officers thought there were sufficient to lower away
with safety.

No. 9 was lowered into the water before No. 11. There was some
difficulty in unlashing the oars because for some time no one had a
knife. There were four men who rowed all night, but there were some of
them in the boat who had never been to sea before and did not know the
first thing about an oar, or the bow from the stern. Haines gave
orders to pull away. When 200 yards off, rowing was stopped for about
an hour. Haines was afraid of suction and we pulled away to about a
quarter of a mile from the ship. The ship went down very gradually for
a while by the head. We could just see the ports as she dipped. She
gave a kind of a sudden lurch forward. He heard a couple of reports
like a volley of musketry; not like an explosion at all. His boat was
too full and it would have been madness to have gone back. He thinks
No. 9 was the fourth or fifth boat picked up by the _Carpathia_. There
was quite a big lot of field ice and several large icebergs in amongst
the field; also two or three separated from the main body of the
field.

       *       *       *       *       *

J. Widgery, bath steward (Am. Inq., p. 602):

Witness says that all passengers were out of their cabins on deck
before he went up.

When he got to the Boat Deck No. 7 was about to be lowered, but the
purser sent him to No. 9. The canvas had been taken off and he helped
lower the boat. Purser McElroy ordered him into the boat to help the
boatswain’s mate pass in women. Women were called for. An elderly lady
came along. She was frightened. The boatswain’s mate and himself
assisted her, but she pulled away and went back to the door (of the
companionway) and downstairs. Just before they left the ship the
officer gave the order to Haines to keep about 100 yards off. The boat
was full as it started to lower away. When they got to the water he
was the only one that had a knife to cut loose the oars. He says that
the balance of his testimony would be the same as that of Mr. Ward,
the previous witness.


BOAT NO. 11.[33]

    [33] Sixth boat lowered on starboard side, 1.25 (Br. Rpt., p.
    38).

No disorder when this boat was loaded and lowered.

_Passengers:_ _Women:_ Mrs. Schabert and two others of first cabin;
all the rest second and third class. Fifty-eight women and children in
all.

_Men:_ Mr. Mock, first cabin, and two others.

_Crew:_ Seamen: Humphreys (in charge), Brice; Stewards: Wheate,
MacKay, McMicken, Thessinger, Wheelton; Fireman: ----; Stewardess:
Mrs. Robinson.

_Total:_ 70.


INCIDENTS

W. Brice, A. B. (Am. Inq., p. 648):

This boat was filled from A Deck. An officer said: “Is there a sailor
in the boat?” There was no answer. I jumped out and went down the fall
into the bow. Nobody was in the stern. I went aft and shipped the
rudder. By that time the boat had been filled with women and children.
We had a bit of difficulty in keeping the boat clear of a big body of
water coming from the ship’s side. The after block got jammed, but I
think that must have been on account of the trip not being pushed
right down to disconnect the block from the boat. We managed to keep
the boat clear from this body of water. It was the pump discharge.
There were only two seamen in the boat, a fireman, about six stewards
and fifty-one passengers. There were no women and children who tried
to get into the boat and were unable to do so. There was no rush and
no panic whatever. Everything was done in perfect order and
discipline.

Mr. Humphreys, A. B., was in charge of No. 11. There was no light or
lantern in our boat. I cut the lashing from the oil bottle and cut
rope and made torches. The ship sank bow down first almost
perpendicularly. She became a black mass before she made the final
plunge when boat was about a quarter of a mile away. Boat No. 9 was
packed. Passengers were about forty-five women and about four or five
children in arms.

       *       *       *       *       *

E. Wheelton, steward (Am. Inq.):

As I made along B Deck I met Mr. Andrews, the builder, who was opening
the rooms and looking in to see if there was anyone in, and closing
the doors again. Nos. 7, 5 and 9 had gone. No. 11 boat was hanging in
the davits. Mr. Murdoch said: “You go too.” He shouted: “Women and
children first.” He was then on the top deck standing by the taffrail.
The boat was loaded with women and children, and I think there were
eight or nine men in the boat altogether, including our crew, and one
passenger.

“Have you got any sailors in?” asked Mr. Murdoch. I said: “No, sir.”
He told two sailors to jump into the boat. We lowered away. Everything
went very smooth until we touched the water. When we pushed away from
the ship’s side we had a slight difficulty in hoisting the after
block. We pulled away about 300 yards. We rowed around to get close to
the other boats. There were about fifty-eight all told in No. 11. It
took all of its passengers from A Deck except the two sailors. I think
there were two boats left on the starboard side when No. 11 was
lowered. The eight or nine men in the boat included a passenger. A
quartermaster (Humphreys) was in charge.

       *       *       *       *       *

C. D. MacKay, steward (Br. Inq.):

No. 11 was lowered to A Deck. Murdoch ordered me to take charge. We
collected all the women (40) on the Boat Deck, and on A Deck we
collected a few more. The crew were five stewards, one fireman, two
sailors, one forward and one aft. There was Wheelton, McMicken,
Thessinger, Wheate and myself. The others were strangers to the ship.
There were two second-class ladies, one second-class gentleman, and
the rest were third-class ladies. I found out that they were all
third-class passengers. We had some difficulty in getting the after
fall away. We went away from the ship about a quarter of a mile. No
compass. The women complained that they were crushed up so much and
had to stand. Complaints were made against the men because they
smoked.

       *       *       *       *       *

J. T. Wheate, Ass’t. 2nd Steward (Br. Inq.):

Witness went upstairs to the Boat Deck where Mr. Murdoch ordered the
boats to the A Deck where the witness and seventy of his men helped
pass the women and children into boat No. 9, and none but women and
children were taken in. He then filled up No. 11 with fifty-nine women
and children, three male passengers and a crew of seven stewards, two
sailors and one fireman. He could not say how the three male
passengers got there. The order was very good. There was nobody on the
Boat Deck, so the people were taken off on the A Deck.

       *       *       *       *       *

Philip E. Mock, first cabin passenger [letter]:

No. 11 carried the largest number of passengers of any boat--about
sixty-five. There were only two first cabin passengers in the boat
besides my sister, Mrs. Schabert, and myself. The remainder were
second-class or stewards and stewardesses. We were probably a mile
away when the _Titanic’s_ lights went out. I last saw the ship with
her stern high in the air going down. After the noise I saw a huge
column of black smoke slightly lighter than the sky rising high into
the sky and then flattening out at the top like a mushroom.

I at no time saw any panic and not much confusion. I can positively
assert this as I was near every boat lowered on the starboard side up
to the time No. 11 was lowered. With the exception of some stokers who
pushed their way into boat No. 3 or No. 5, I saw no man or woman force
entry into a lifeboat. One of these was No. 13 going down, before we
touched the water.

       *       *       *       *       *

From address of the Attorney-General, Sir Rufus Isaacs, K. C., M. P.

“No. 11 took seventy, and carried the largest number of any boat.”


BOAT NO. 13.[34]

    [34] Seventh boat lowered on starboard side, 1.25 (Br. Rpt., p.
    38).

No disorder when this boat was loaded and lowered.

_Passengers:_ _Women:_ Second cabin, including Mrs. Caldwell and her
child Alden. All the rest second and third-class women.

_Men:_ Dr. Dodge only first cabin passenger. Second cabin, Messrs.
Beasley and Caldwell. One Japanese.

_Crew:_ Firemen: Barrett (in charge), Beauchamp, Major and two others.
Stewards: Ray, Wright and another; also baker ----.

_Total:_ 64.


INCIDENTS

Mr. Lawrence Beesley’s book, already cited, gives an excellent
description of No. 13’s history, but for further details, see his
book, _The Loss of the SS. Titanic_, Houghton, Mifflin Co., Boston.

       *       *       *       *       *

F. Barrett, leading stoker (Br. Inq.):

Witness then made his escape up the escape ladder and walked aft on to
Deck A on the starboard side, where only two boats were left, Nos. 13
and 15. No. 13 was partly lowered when he got there. Five-sixths in
the boat were women. No. 15 was lowered about thirty seconds later.
When No. 13 got down to the water he shouted: “Let go the after fall,”
but, as no one took any notice, he had to walk over women and cut the
fall himself. No. 15 came down nearly on top of them, but they just
got clear. He took charge of the boat until he got so cold that he
had to give up to someone else. A woman put a cloak over him, as he
felt so freezing, and he could not remember anything after that. No
men waiting on the deck got into his boat. They all stood in one line
in perfect order waiting to be told to get into the boat. There was no
disorder whatever. They picked up nobody from the sea.

       *       *       *       *       *

F. D. Ray, steward (Am. Inq., p. 798):

Witness assisted in the loading of boat No. 9 and saw it and No. 11
boat lowered, and went to No. 13 on A Deck. He saw it about half
filled with women and children. A few men were ordered to get in;
about nine to a dozen passengers and crew. Dr. Washington Dodge was
there and was told that his wife and child had gone away in one of the
boats. Witness said to him: “You had better get in here then,” and got
behind him and pushed him and followed after him. A rather large woman
came along crying and saying: “Do not put me in the boat; I don’t want
to get in one. I have never been in an open boat in my life.” He said:
“You have got to go and you may as well keep quiet.” After that there
was a small child rolled in a blanket thrown into the boat to him. The
woman that brought it got into the boat afterwards.

We left about three or four men on the deck at the rail and they went
along to No. 15 boat. No. 13 was lowered away. When nearly to the
water, two or three of them noticed a very large discharge of water
coming from the ship’s side which he thought was the pumps working.
The hole was about two feet wide and about a foot deep with a solid
mass of water coming out. They shouted for the boat to be stopped from
being lowered and they responded promptly and stopped lowering the
boat. They pushed it off from the side of the ship until they were
free from this discharge. He thinks there were no sailors or
quartermasters in the boat because they apparently did not know how to
get free from the tackle. Knives were called for to cut loose. In the
meantime they were drifting a little aft and boat No. 15 was being
lowered immediately upon them about two feet from their heads and they
all shouted again, and they again replied very promptly and stopped
lowering boat No. 15. They elected a fireman (Barrett) to take charge.
Steward Wright was in the boat; two or three children and a very young
baby seven months old. Besides Nos. 9, 11, and 13, No. 15 was lowered
to Deck A and filled from it. He saw no male passengers or men of the
crew whatever ordered out or thrown out of these lifeboats on the
starboard side. Everybody was very orderly and there was no occasion
to throw anybody out. In No. 13 there were about four or five firemen,
one baker, three stewards; about nine of the crew. Dr. Washington
Dodge was the only first-class passenger and the rest were
third-class. There was one Japanese. There was no crowd whatever on A
Deck while he was loading these boats. No. 13 was full.

       *       *       *       *       *

Extracts from Dr. Washington Dodge’s address: “The Loss of the
_Titanic_,” a copy of which he kindly sent me:

I heard one man say that the impact was due to ice. Upon one of his
listeners’ questioning the authority of this, he replied: “Go up
forward and look down on the fo’castle deck, and you can see for
yourself.” I at once walked forward to the end of the promenade deck,
and looking down could see, just within the starboard rail, small
fragments of broken ice, amounting possibly to several cartloads. As I
stood there an incident occurred which made me take a more serious
view of the situation, than I otherwise would.

Two stokers, who had slipped up onto the promenade deck unobserved,
said to me: “Do you think there is any danger, sir?” I replied: “If
there is any danger it would be due to the vessel’s having sprung a
leak, and you ought to know more about it than I.” They replied, in
what appeared to me to be an alarmed tone: “Well, sir, the water was
pouring into the stoke ’old when we came up, sir.” At this time I
observed quite a number of steerage passengers, who were amusing
themselves by walking over the ice, and kicking it about the deck. No
ice or iceberg was to be seen in the ocean.

I watched the boats on the starboard side, as they were successively
filled and lowered away. At no time during this period, was there any
panic, or evidence of fear, or unusual alarm. I saw no women nor
children weep, nor were there any evidences of hysteria observed by
me.

I watched all boats on the starboard side, comprising the odd numbers
from one to thirteen, as they were launched. Not a boat was launched
which would not have held from ten to twenty-five more persons. Never
were there enough women or children present to fill any boat before it
was launched. In all cases, as soon as those who responded to the
officers’ call were in the boats, the order was given to “Lower away.”

What the conditions were on the port side of the vessel I had no means
of observing. We were in semi-darkness on the Boat Deck, and owing to
the immense length and breadth of the vessel, and the fact that
between the port and the starboard side of the Boat Deck, there were
officers’ cabins, staterooms for passengers, a gymnasium, and
innumerable immense ventilators, it would have been impossible, even
in daylight, to have obtained a view of but a limited portion of this
boat deck. We only knew what was going on within a radius of possibly
forty feet.

Boats Nos. 13 and 15 were swung from the davits at about the same
moment. I heard the officer in charge of No. 13 say: “We’ll lower this
boat to Deck A.” Observing a group of possibly fifty or sixty about
boat 15, a small proportion of which number were women, I descended by
means of a stairway close at hand to the deck below, Deck A. Here, as
the boat was lowered even with the deck, the women, about eight in
number, were assisted by several of us over the rail of the steamer
into the boat. The officer in charge then held the boat, and called
repeatedly for more women. None appearing, and there being none
visible on the deck, which was then brightly illuminated, the men were
told to tumble in. Along with those present I entered the boat. Ray
was my table steward and called to me to get in.

The boat in which I embarked was rapidly lowered, and as it
approached the water I observed, as I looked over the edge of the
boat, that the bow, near which I was seated, was being lowered
directly into an enormous stream of water, three or four feet in
diameter, which was being thrown with great force from the side of the
vessel. This was the water thrown out by the condenser pumps. Had our
boat been lowered into the same it would have been swamped in an
instant. The loud cries which were raised by the occupants of the boat
caused those who were sixty or seventy feet above us to cease lowering
our boat. Securing an oar with considerable difficulty, as the oars
had been firmly lashed together by means of heavy tarred twine, and as
in addition they were on the seat running parallel with the side of
the lifeboat, with no less than eight or ten occupants of the boat
sitting on them, none of whom showed any tendency to disturb
themselves--we pushed the bow of the lifeboat, by means of the oar, a
sufficient distance away from the side of the _Titanic_ to clear this
great stream of water which was gushing forth. We were then safely
lowered to the water. During the few moments occupied by these
occurrences I felt for the only time a sense of impending danger.

We were directed to pull our lifeboat from the steamer, and to follow
a light which was carried in one of the other lifeboats, which had
been launched prior to ours. Our lifeboat was found to contain no
lantern, as the regulations require; nor was there a single sailor, or
officer in the boat. Those who undertook to handle the oars were poor
oarsmen, almost without exception, and our progress was extremely
slow. Together with two or three other lifeboats which were in the
vicinity, we endeavored to overtake the lifeboat which carried the
light, in order that we might not drift away and possibly become lost.
This light appeared to be a quarter of a mile distant, but, in spite
of our best endeavors, we were never enabled to approach any nearer to
it, although we must have rowed at least a mile.


BOAT NO. 15.[35]

    [35] Br. Rpt., p. 38, places this next to last lowered on
    starboard side at 1.35.

No disorder in loading or lowering this boat.

_Passengers:_ All third-class women and children (53) and

_Men:_ Mr. Haven (first-class) and three others (third-class) only.
Total: 4.

_Crew:_ Firemen: Diamond (in charge), Cavell, Taylor; Stewards: Rule,
Hart. Total: 13.

_Grand Total_ (Br. Rpt., p. 38): 70.


INCIDENTS

G. Cavell, trimmer (Br. Inq.):

The officer ordered five of us in the boat. We took on all the women
and children and the boat was then lowered. We lowered to the
first-class (i. e. A) deck and took on a few more women and children,
about five, and then lowered to the water. From the lower deck we took
in about sixty. There were men about but we did not take them in. They
were not kept back. They were third-class passengers, I think--sixty
women, Irish. Fireman Diamond took charge. No other seaman in this
boat. There were none left on the third-class decks after I had taken
the women.

       *       *       *       *       *

S. J. Rule, bathroom steward (Br. Inq.):

Mr. Murdoch called to the men to get into the boat. About six got in.
“That will do,” he said, “lower away to Deck A.” At this time the
vessel had a slight list to port. We sent scouts around both to the
starboard and port sides. They came back and said there were no more
women and children. We filled up on A Deck--sixty-eight all told--the
last boat to leave the starboard side. There were some left behind.
There was a bit of a rush after Mr. Murdoch said we could fill the
boat up with men standing by. We very nearly came on top of No. 13
when we lowered away. A man, Jack Stewart, a steward, took charge.
Nearly everybody rowed. No lamp. One deckhand in the boat, and men,
women and children. Just before it was launched, no more could be
found, and about half a dozen men got in. There were sixty-eight in
the boat altogether. Seven members of the crew.

       *       *       *       *       *

J. E. Hart, third-class steward (Br. Inq., 75):

Witness defines the duties and what was done by the stewards,
particularly those connected with the steerage.

“Pass the women and children up to the Boat Deck,” was the order soon
after the collision. About three-quarters of an hour after the
collision he took women and children from the C Deck to the
first-class main companion. There were no barriers at that time. They
were all opened. He took about thirty to boat No. 8 as it was being
lowered. He left them and went back for more, meeting third-class
passengers on the way to the boats. He brought back about twenty-five
more steerage women and children, having some little trouble owing to
the men passengers wanting to get to the Boat Deck. These were all
third-class people whom we took to the only boat left on the starboard
side, viz., No. 15. There were a large number already in the boat,
which was then lowered to A Deck, and five women, three children and a
man with a baby in his arms taken in, making about seventy people in
all, including thirteen or fourteen of the crew and fireman Diamond in
charge. Mr. Murdoch ordered witness into the boat. Four men passengers
and fourteen crew was the complement of men; the rest were women and
children.

When boat No. 15 left the boat deck there were other women and
children there--some first-class women passengers and their husbands.
Absolute quietness existed. There were repeated cries for women and
children. If there had been any more women there would have been found
places for them in the boat. He heard some of the women on the A Deck
say they would not leave their husbands.

There is no truth in the statement that any of the seamen tried to
keep back third-class passengers from the Boat Deck. Witness saw
masthead light of a ship from the Boat Deck. He did his very best, and
so did all the other stewards, to help get the steerage passengers on
the Boat Deck as soon as possible.


ENGELHARDT BOAT “C.”[36]

    [36] Br. Rpt., p. 38, makes this last boat lowered on starboard
    side at 1.40.

No disorder in loading or lowering this boat.

_Passengers:_ President Ismay, Mr. Carter. Balance women and children.

_Crew:_ Quartermaster Rowe (in charge). Steward Pearce. Barber
Weikman. Firemen, three.

_Stowaways:_ Four Chinamen, or Filipinos.

_Total:_ 39.


INCIDENTS

G. T. Rowe, Q. M. (Am. Inq., p. 519, and Br. Inq.):

To avoid repetition, the testimony of this witness before the two
Courts of Inquiry is consolidated:

He assisted the officer (Boxhall) to fire distress signals until about
five and twenty minutes past one. At this time they were getting out
the starboard collapsible boats. Chief Officer Wilde wanted a sailor.
Captain Smith told him to get into the boat “C” which was then partly
filled. He found three women and children in there with no more
about. Two gentlemen got in, Mr. Ismay and Mr. Carter. Nobody told
them to get in. No one else was there. In the boat there were
thirty-nine altogether. These two gentlemen, five of the crew
(including himself), three firemen, a steward, and near daybreak they
found four Chinamen or Filipinos who had come up between the seats.
All the rest were women and children.

Before leaving the ship he saw a bright light about five miles away
about two points on the port bow. He noticed it after he got into the
boat. When he left the ship there was a list to port of six degrees.
The order was given to lower the boat, with witness in charge. The rub
strake kept on catching on the rivets down the ship’s side, and it was
as much as we could do to keep off. It took a good five minutes, on
account of this rubbing, to get down. When they reached the water they
steered for a light in sight, roughly five miles. They seemed to get
no nearer to it and altered their course to a boat that was carrying a
green light. When day broke, the _Carpathia_ was in sight.

In regard to Mr. Ismay’s getting into the boat, the witness’s
testimony before the American Court of Inquiry is cited in full:

Senator Burton: Now, tell us the circumstances under which Mr. Ismay
and that other gentleman got into the boat.

Mr. Rowe: When Chief Officer Wilde asked if there were any more women
and children, there was no reply, so Mr. Ismay came into the boat.

Senator Burton: Mr. Wilde asked if there were any more women and
children? Can you say that there were none?

Mr. Rowe: I could not see, but there were none forthcoming.

Senator Burton: You could see around there on the deck, could you not?

Mr. Rowe: I could see the fireman and steward that completed the
boat’s crew, but as regards any families I could not see any.

Senator Burton: Were there any men passengers besides Mr. Ismay and
the other man?

Mr. Rowe: I did not see any, sir.

Senator Burton: Was it light enough so that you could see anyone near
by?

Mr. Rowe: Yes, sir.

Senator Burton: Did you hear anyone ask Mr. Ismay and Mr. Carter to
get in the boat?

Mr. Rowe: No, sir.

Senator Burton: If Chief Officer Wilde had spoken to them would you
have known it?

Mr. Rowe: I think so, because they got in the after part of the boat
where I was.

       *       *       *       *       *

Alfred Pearce, pantryman, third-class (Br. Inq.):

Picked up two babies in his arms and went into a collapsible boat on
the starboard side under Officer Murdoch’s order, in which were women
and children. There were altogether sixty-six passengers and five of
the crew, a quartermaster in charge. The ship had a list on the port
side, her lights burning to the last. It was twenty minutes to two
when they started to row away. He remembers this because one of the
passengers gave the time.

       *       *       *       *       *

J. B. Ismay, President International Mercantile Marine Co. of America,
New Jersey, U. S. A. (Am. Inq., pp. 8, 960):

There were four in the crew--one quartermaster, a pantryman, a butcher
and another. The natural order would be women and children first. It
was followed as far as practicable. About forty-five in the boat. He
saw no struggling or jostling or any attempts by men to get into the
boats. They simply picked the women out and put them into the boat as
fast as they could--the first ones that were there. He put a great
many in--also children. He saw the first lifeboat lowered on the
starboard side. As to the circumstances of his departure from the
ship, the boat was there. There was a certain number of men in the
boat and the officer called and asked if there were any more women,
but there was no response. There were no passengers left on the deck,
and as the boat was in the act of being lowered away he got into it.
The _Titanic_ was sinking at the time. He felt the ship going down. He
entered because there was room in it. Before he boarded the lifeboat
he saw no passengers jump into the sea. The boat rubbed along the
ship’s side when being lowered, the women helping to shove the boat
clear. This was when the ship had quite a list to port. He sat with
his back to the ship, rowing all the time, pulling away. He did not
wish to see her go down. There were nine or ten men in the boat with
him. Mr. Carter, a passenger, was one. All the other people in the
boat, so far as he could see, were third-class passengers.

       *       *       *       *       *

Examined before the British Court of Inquiry by the Attorney-General,
Sir Rufus Isaacs, Mr. Ismay testified:

I was awakened by the impact; stayed in bed a little time and then got
up. I saw a steward who could not say what had happened. I put a coat
on and went on deck. I saw Captain Smith. I asked him what was the
matter and he said we had struck ice. He said he thought it was
serious. I then went down and saw the chief engineer, who said that
the blow was serious. He thought the pumps would keep the water under
control. I think I went back to my room and then to the bridge and
heard Captain Smith give an order in connection with the boats. I went
to the boat deck, spoke to one of the officers, and rendered all the
assistance I could in putting the women and children in. Stayed there
until I left the ship. There was no confusion; no attempts by men to
get into the boats. So far as I knew all the women and children were
put on board the boats and I was not aware that any were left. There
was a list of the ship to port. I think I remained an hour and a half
on the _Titanic_ after the impact. I noticed her going down by the
head, sinking. Our boat was fairly full. After all the women and
children got in and there were no others on that side of the deck, I
got in while the boat was being lowered. Before we got into the boat I
do not know that any attempt was made to call up any of the passengers
on the Boat Deck, nor did I inquire.

       *       *       *       *       *

And also examined by Mr. A. C. Edwards, M. P., counsel for the Dock
Workers’ Union. Mr. Ismay’s testimony was taken as follows:

Mr. Edwards: You were responsible for determining the number of
boats?

Mr. Ismay: Yes, in conjunction with the shipbuilders.

Mr. Edwards: You knew when you got into the boat that the ship was
sinking?

Mr. Ismay: Yes.

Mr. Edwards: Had it occurred to you apart perhaps from the captain,
that you, as the representative managing director, deciding the number
of lifeboats, owed your life to every other person on the ship?

The President: That is not the sort of question which should be put to
this witness. You can make comment on it when you come to your speech
if you like.

Mr. Edwards: You took an active part in directing women and children
into the boats?

Mr. Ismay: I did all I could.

Mr. Edwards: Why did you not go further and send for other people to
come on deck and fill the boats?

Mr. Ismay: I put in everyone who was there and I got in as the boat
was being lowered away.

Mr. Edwards: Were you not giving directions and getting women and
children in?

Mr. Ismay: I was calling to them to come in.

Mr. Edwards: Why then did you not give instructions or go yourself
either to the other side of the deck or below decks to get people up?

Mr. Ismay: I understood there were people there sending them up.

Mr. Edwards: But you knew there were hundreds who had not come up?

Lord Mersey: Your point, as I understand it now, is that, having
regard for his position as managing director, it was his duty to
remain on the ship until she went to the bottom?

Mr. Edwards: Frankly, that is so, and I do not flinch from it; but I
want to get it from the witness, inasmuch as he took it upon himself
to give certain directions at a certain time, why he did not discharge
his responsibility after in regard to other persons or passengers.

Mr. Ismay: There were no more passengers who would have got into the
boat. The boat was being actually lowered away.

       *       *       *       *       *

Examined by Sir Robert Finlay for White Star Line:

Mr. Finlay: Have you crossed very often to and from America?

Mr. Ismay: Very often.

Mr. Finlay: Have you ever, on any occasion, attempted to interfere
with the navigation of the vessel on any of these occasions?

Mr. Ismay: No.

Mr. Finlay: When you left the deck just before getting into the
collapsible boat, did you hear the officer calling out for more women?

Mr. Ismay: I do not think I did; but I heard them calling for women
very often.

Mr. Edwards: When the last boat left the _Titanic_ you must have known
that a number of passengers and crew were still on board?

Mr. Ismay: I did.

Mr. Edwards: And yet you did not see any on the deck?

Mr. Ismay: No, I did not see any, and I could only assume that the
other passengers had gone to the other end of the ship.

       *       *       *       *       *

From an address (Br. Inq.) by Mr. A. Clement Edwards, M. P., Counsel
for Dock Workers’ Union:

What was Mr. Ismay’s duty?

Coming to Mr. Ismay’s conduct, Mr. Edwards said it was clear that that
gentleman had taken upon himself to assist in getting women and
children into the boats. He had also admitted that when he left the
_Titanic_ he knew she was doomed, that there were hundreds of people
in the ship, that he didn’t know whether or not there were any women
or children left, and that he did not even go to the other side of
the Boat Deck to see whether there were any women and children waiting
to go. Counsel submitted that a gentleman occupying the position of
managing director of the company owning the _Titanic_, and who had
taken upon himself the duty of assisting at the boats, had certain
special and further duties beyond an ordinary passenger’s duties, and
that he had no more right to save his life at the expense of any
single person on board that ship than the captain would have had. He
(Mr. Edwards) said emphatically that Mr. Ismay did not discharge his
duty at that particular moment by taking a careless glance around the
starboard side of the Boat Deck. He was one of the few persons who at
the time had been placed in a position of positive knowledge that the
vessel was doomed, and it was his clear duty, under the circumstances,
to see that someone made a search for passengers in other places than
in the immediate vicinity of the Boat Deck.

Lord Mersey: Moral duty do you mean?

Mr. Edwards: I agree; but I say that a managing director going on
board a liner, commercially responsible for it and taking upon himself
certain functions, had a special moral obligation and duty more than
is possessed by one passenger to another passenger.

Lord Mersey: But how is a moral duty relative to this inquiry? It
might be argued that there was a moral duty for every man on board
that every woman should take precedence, and I might have to inquire
whether every passenger carried out his moral duty.

Mr. Edwards agreed that so far as the greater questions involved in
this case were concerned this matter was one of trivial importance.

       *       *       *       *       *

From address of Sir Robert Finlay, K. C., M. P., Counsel for White
Star Company (Br. Inq.):

It has been said by Mr. Edwards that Mr. Ismay had no right to save
his life at the expense of any other life. He did not save his life at
the expense of any other life. If Mr. Edwards had taken the trouble to
look at the evidence he would have seen how unfounded this charge is.
There is not the slightest ground for suggesting that any other life
would have been saved if Mr. Ismay had not got into the boat. He did
not get into the boat until it was being lowered away.

Mr. Edwards has said that it was Mr. Ismay’s plain duty to go about
the ship looking for passengers, but the fact is that the boat was
being lowered. Was it the duty of Mr. Ismay to have remained, though
by doing so no other life could have been saved? If he had been
impelled to commit suicide of that kind, then it would have been
stated that he went to the bottom because he dared not face this
inquiry. There is no observation of an unfavorable nature to be made
from any point of view upon Mr. Ismay’s conduct. There was no duty
devolving upon him of going to the bottom with his ship as the captain
did. He did all he could to help the women and children. It was only
when the boat was being lowered that he got into it. He violated no
point of honor, and if he had thrown his life away in the manner now
suggested it would be said he did it because he was conscious he could
not face this inquiry and so he had lost his life.


ENGELHARDT BOAT “A.”

Floated off the ship.

_Passengers:_ T. Beattie,* P. D. Daly,† G. Rheims, R. N. Williams,
Jr., first-class; O. Abelseth,† W. J. Mellers, second-class; and Mrs.
Rosa Abbott,† Edward Lindley,‡ third-class.

_Crew:_ Steward: E. Brown. Firemen: J. Thompson, one unidentified
body.* Seaman: one unidentified body.*

    * Body found in boat by _Oceanic_.

    † Pulled into boat out of sea.

    ‡ Died in boat.

An extraordinary story pertains to this boat. At the outset of my
research it was called a “boat of mystery,” occasioned by the
statements of the _Titanic’s_ officers. In his conversations with me,
as well as in his testimony, Officer Lightoller stated that he was
unable to loosen this boat from the ship in time and that he and his
men were compelled to abandon their efforts to get it away. The
statement in consequence was that this boat “A” was not utilized but
went down with the ship. My recent research has disabused his mind of
this supposition. There were only four Engelhardt boats in all as we
have already learned, and we have fully accounted for “the upset boat
B,” and “D,” the last to leave the ship in the tackles, and boat “C,”
containing Mr. Ismay, which reached the _Carpathia’s_ side and was
unloaded there. After all the mystery we have reached the conclusion
that boat “A” did not go down with the ship, but was the one whose
occupants were rescued by Officer Lowe in the early morning, and then
abandoned with three dead bodies in it. This also was the boat picked
up nearly one month later by the _Oceanic_ nearly 200 miles from the
scene of the wreck.

I have made an exhaustive research up to date for the purpose of
discovering how Boat A left the ship. Information in regard thereto is
obtained from the testimony before the British Court of Inquiry of
Steward Edward Brown, from first-class passenger R. N. Williams, Jr.,
and from an account of William J. Mellers, a second cabin passenger as
related by him to Dr. Washington Dodge. Steward Brown, it will be
observed, testified that he was washed out of the boat and yet “did
not know whether he went down in the water.” As he could not swim, an
analysis of his testimony forces me to believe that he held on to the
boat and did not have to swim and that boat “A” was the same one that
he was in when he left the ship. I am forced to the same conclusion in
young Williams’ case after an analysis of his statement that he took
off his big fur overcoat in the water and cast it adrift while he swam
twenty yards to the boat, and in some unaccountable way the fur coat
swam after him and also got into the boat. At any rate it was found in
the boat when it was recovered later as shown in the evidence.

I also have a letter from Mr. George Rheims, of Paris, indicating his
presence on this same boat with Messrs. Williams and Mellers and Mrs.
Abbott and others.


INCIDENTS

Edward Brown, steward (Br. Inq.):

Witness helped with boats 5, 3, 1 and C, and then helped with another
collapsible; tried to get it up to the davits when the ship gave a
list to port. The falls were slackened but the boat could not be
hauled away any further. There were four or five women waiting to get
into the boat. The boat referred to was the collapsible boat “A” which
they got off the officers’ house. They got it down by the planks, but
witness does not know where the planks came from. He thinks they were
with the bars which came from the other boats; yet he had no
difficulty in getting the boat off the house. The ship was then up to
the bridge under water, well down by the head. He jumped into the boat
then and called out to cut the falls. He cut them at the aft end, but
cannot say what happened to the forward fall. He was washed out of the
boat _but does not know whether he went down in the water_.[37] He had
his lifebelt on and came to the top. People were all around him. They
tore his clothes away struggling in the water. He could not swim, but
got into the collapsible boat “A.” Only men were in it, but they
picked up a woman and some men afterwards, consisting of passengers,
stewards and crew. There were sixteen men. Fifth Officer Lowe in boat
No. 14 picked them up.

    [37] Italics are mine.--Author.

       *       *       *       *       *

O. Abelseth (Am. Inq.):

Witness describes the period just before the ship sank when an effort
was made to get out the collapsible boats on the roof of the officers’
house. The officer wanted help and called out: “Are there any sailors
here?” It was only about five feet to the water when witness jumped
off. It was not much of a jump. Before that he could see the people
were jumping over. He went under and swallowed some water. A rope was
tangled around him. He came on top again and tried to swim. There were
lots of men floating around. One of them got him on the neck and
pressed him under the water and tried to get on top, but he got loose
from him. Then another man hung on to him for a while and let go. Then
he swam for about fifteen or twenty minutes. Saw something dark ahead
of him; swam towards it and it was one of the Engelhardt boats (“A”).
He had a life-preserver on when he jumped from the ship. There was no
suction at all. “I will try and see,” he thought, “if I can float on
the lifebelt without help from swimming,” and he floated easily on the
lifebelt. When he got on boat “A” no one assisted him, but they said
when he got on: “Don’t capsize the boat,” so he hung on for a little
while before he got on.

Some were trying to get on their feet who were sitting or lying down;
others fell into the water again. Some were frozen and there were two
dead thrown overboard. On the boat he raised up and continuously moved
his arms and swung them around to keep warm. There was one lady aboard
this raft and she (Mrs. Abbott) was saved. There were also two Swedes
and a first-class passenger. He said he had a wife and child. There
was a fireman also named Thompson who had burned one of his hands;
also a young boy whose name sounded like “Volunteer.” He and Thompson
were afterwards at St. Vincent’s Hospital. In the morning he saw a
boat with a sail up, and in unison they screamed together for help.
Boat A was not capsized and the canvas was not raised up, and they
could not get it up. _They stood all night in about twelve or fourteen
inches of water_[38]--their feet in water all the time. Boat No. 14
sailed down and took them aboard and transferred them to the
_Carpathia_, he helping to row. There must have been ten or twelve
saved from boat A; one man was from New Jersey, with whom he came in
company from London. At daybreak he seemed unconscious. He took him
by the shoulder and shook him. “Who are you?” he said; “let me be; who
are you?” About half an hour or so later he died.

    [38] Italics are mine.--Author.

       *       *       *       *       *

In a recent letter from Dr. Washington Dodge he refers to a young man
whom he met on the _Carpathia_, very much exhausted, whom he took to
his stateroom and gave him medicine and medical attention. This young
man was a gentleman’s valet and a second cabin passenger. This answers
to the description of William J. Mellers, to whom I have written, but
as yet have received no response. Dr. Dodge says he believes this
young man’s story implicitly: He, Mellers, “was standing by this boat
when one of the crew was endeavoring to cut the fastenings that bound
it to the vessel just as the onrush of waters came up which tore it
loose. It was by clinging to this boat that he was saved.”

       *       *       *       *       *

R. N. Williams, Jr., in his letter writes me as follows:

“I was not under water very long, and as soon as I came to the top I
threw off the big fur coat I had on. I had put my lifebelt on under
the coat. I also threw off my shoes. About twenty yards away I saw
something floating. I swam to it and found it to be a collapsible
boat. I hung on to it and after a while got aboard and _stood up in
the middle of it. The water was up to my waist._[39] About thirty of
us clung to it. When Officer Lowe’s boat picked us up eleven of us
were alive; all the rest were dead from cold. My fur coat was found
attached to this Engelhardt boat ‘A’ by the _Oceanic_, and _also a
cane marked ‘C. Williams.’_ This gave rise to the story that my
father’s body was in this boat, but this, as you see, is not so. How
the cane got there I do not know.”

    [39] Italics are mine.--Author.

       *       *       *       *       *

Through the courtesy of Mr. Harold Wingate of the White Star Line in
letters to me I have the following information pertaining to boat “A”:

“One of the bodies found in this boat was that of Mr. Thompson
Beattie. We got his watch and labels from his clothes showing his name
and that of the dealer, which we sent to the executor. Two others were
a fireman and a sailor, both unidentified. The overcoat belonging to
Mr. Williams I sent to a furrier to be re-conditioned, but nothing
could be done with it except to dry it out, so I sent it to him as it
was. _There was no cane in the boat._ The message from the _Oceanic_
and the words ‘R. N. Williams, _care of Duane Williams_,’ were
twisted by the receiver of the message to ‘Richard N. Williams, _cane
of Duane Williams_,’[40] which got into the press, and thus
perpetuated the error.

“There was also a ring found in the boat whose owner we eventually
traced in Sweden and restored the property to her. We cannot account
for its being in the boat, but we know that her husband was a
passenger on the _Titanic_--Edward P. Lindell, a third-class
passenger. The widow’s address is, care of Nels Persson, Helsingborg,
Sweden.”

    [40] Italics are mine.--Author.

       *       *       *       *       *

Rescue of the occupants of boat “A” at daylight Monday morning is
recorded in the testimony of Officer Lowe and members of the crew of
his boat No. 14 and the other boats 12, 10, 4 and “D” which were tied
together. No. 14 we recall was emptied of passengers and a crew taken
from all the boats referred to went back to the wreck. The substance
of the testimony of all of them agrees and I need only cite that of
Quartermaster Bright, in charge of boat “D,” as follows:

A. Bright, Q. M. (in charge) (Am. Inq., p. 834):

Just at daylight witness saw from his place in boat “D” one of the
other collapsible boats, “A,” that was awash just flush with the
water. Officer Lowe came and towed witness’s boat to the other
collapsible one that was just awash and took from it thirteen men and
one woman who were in the water up to their ankles. They had been
singing out in the dark. As soon as daylight came they could be seen.
They were rescued and the boat turned adrift with two dead bodies in
it, covered with a lifebelt over their faces.

       *       *       *       *       *

Admiral Mahan on Ismay’s duty:

Rear Admiral A. T. Mahan, retired, in a letter which the _Evening
Post_ publishes, has this to say of J. Bruce Ismay’s duty:

In the _Evening Post_ of April 24 Admiral Chadwick passes a distinct
approval upon the conduct of Mr. Ismay in the wreck of the _Titanic_
by characterizing the criticisms passed upon it as the “acme of
emotionalism.”

Both censure and approval had best wait upon the results of the
investigations being made in Great Britain. Tongues will wag, but if
men like Admiral Chadwick see fit to publish anticipatory opinions
those opinions must receive anticipatory comment.

Certain facts are so notorious that they need no inquiry to
ascertain. These are (1) that before the collision the captain of the
_Titanic_ was solely responsible for the management of the ship; (2)
after the collision there were not boats enough to embark more than
one-third of those on board, and, (3) for that circumstance the White
Star Company is solely responsible, not legally, for the legal
requirements were met, but morally. Of this company, Mr. Ismay is a
prominent if not the most prominent member.

For all the loss of life the company is responsible, individually and
collectively: Mr. Ismay personally, not only as one of the members. He
believed the _Titanic_ unsinkable; the belief relieves of moral guilt,
but not of responsibility. Men bear the consequences of their mistakes
as well as of their faults. He--and Admiral Chadwick--justify his
leaving over fifteen hundred persons, the death of each one of whom
lay on the company, on the ground that it was the last boat half
filled; and Mr. Ismay has said, no one else to be seen.

No one to be seen; but was there none to be reached? Mr. Ismay knew
there must be many, because he knew the boats could take only a third.
The _Titanic_ was 882 feet long; 92 broad; say, from Thirty-fourth
street to a little north of Thirty-seventh. Within this space were
congregated over 1,500 souls, on several decks. True, to find any one
person at such a moment in the intricacies of a vessel were a vain
hope; but to encounter some stragglers would not seem to be. Read in
the _Sun_ and _Times_ of April 25 Col. Gracie’s account of the “mass
of humanity, men and women” that suddenly appeared before him after
the boats were launched.

In an interview reported in the New York _Times_ April 25 Admiral Sir
Cyprian Bridge, a very distinguished officer, holds that Mr. Ismay was
but a passenger, as other passengers. True, up to a certain point. He
is in no sense responsible for the collision; but when the collision
had occurred he confronted a wholly new condition for which he was
responsible and not the captain, viz., a sinking vessel without
adequate provision for saving life. Did no obligation to particularity
of conduct rest upon him under such a condition?

I hold that under the conditions, so long as there was a soul that
could be saved, the obligation lay upon Mr. Ismay that that one person
and not he should have been in the boat. More than 1,500 perished.
Circumstances yet to be developed may justify Mr. Ismay’s actions
completely, but such justification is imperatively required. If this
be “the acme of emotionalism” I must be content to bear the
imputation.

Admiral Chadwick urges the “preserving a life so valuable to the
great organization to which Mr. Ismay belongs.” This bestows upon Mr.
Ismay’s escape a kind of halo of self-sacrifice. No man is
indispensable. There are surely brains enough and business capacity
enough in the White Star company to run without him. The reports say
that of the rescued women thirty-seven were widowed by the accident
and the lack of boats. Their husbands were quite as indispensable to
them as Mr. Ismay to the company. His duty to the ship’s company was
clear and primary; that to the White Star company so secondary as to
be at the moment inoperative.

We should be careful not to pervert standards. Witness the talk that
the result is due to the system. What is a system, except that which
individuals have made it and keep it? Whatever thus weakens the sense
of individual responsibility is harmful, and so likewise is all
condonation of failure of the individual to meet his responsibility.




CONCLUDING NOTE

By Charles Vale


COLONEL GRACIE died on the fourth of December, 1912. He had been in
feeble health all through the summer, but had no definite physical
complaint. He felt ill and weak, and ascribed his condition to the
exposure and strain through which he went in the _Titanic_ disaster.
Mrs. Gracie and his daughter were with him up to the end, which he
knew was coming, for the day before he died he had the minister of the
Church of the Incarnation brought to his bedside, and Holy Communion
was administered. On the next day he was unconscious for twelve hours;
but just before he died he became conscious for about ten minutes,
recognizing everyone and bidding them good-bye.

The funeral service was held at Calvary Church, where he was married,
and a large number of the members of the Seventh Regiment, to which he
belonged, were present. The church was beautifully decorated. Mrs.
Astor was there, and many other _Titanic_ survivors, several of whom
Colonel Gracie had helped into the boats at the time of the disaster.
The interment took place at the Gracie plot at Woodlawn.

       *       *       *       *       *

And so his book finishes here. He had intended to write a final
chapter, reviewing the tragedy of the _Titanic_ in retrospect, and in
the light of all the later information that he had gathered; drawing
the lessons that seemed most necessary in the present, and most
serviceable for the future; and rounding out his story with the
finishing touches.

But the actual Finis must be written by another hand. Well, it does
not greatly matter. The real work has been completed, in its entirety.
The picture has been drawn, the details faithfully gathered together
and arranged in their due order. The rest was merely an affair of
reflection and comment; and of such looking backward there has been
already sufficient.

       *       *       *       *       *

I met Colonel Gracie, for the first--and last--time, at a luncheon at
the Waldorf-Astoria, in New York, when the world was still ringing
with echoes of the great catastrophe. The extraordinary experiences
through which he had passed, and the terrible scenes that he had
witnessed, were still as vivid to him as if they had happened the day
before; but he talked very quietly, directly, unaffectedly, neither
obtruding nor avoiding the personal element. There was something
strangely gracious in his attitude; I heard no harsh or condemnatory
word from him: he seemed to have the rare gift of comprehension of
human nature, the rare sense of proportion. He accused no man of
cowardice or inefficiency; but narrated the facts as he saw them,
volunteering no inferences. And gradually, in that atmosphere of
careless, casual security; with men and women from every corner of
more than one continent scattered about the room; with all the
obvious, and more subtle, presuppositions of civilization that a
luxurious hotel in a huge metropolis illustrates;--there was evolved
the picture of the great ship, going to her doom in the night, with
her living cargo. I cannot express fully the vividness of that
image,--carved, as it were, from the darkness of memory and imposed on
the sunlight of a summer’s day. It stands out for me, ineffaceable,
unforgettable--as it must stand out for all who passed through those
tragic hours and still live to recall how near they were to death. One
retraced the growing realization of the gravity of the situation; the
conviction that the ship must inevitably sink before help could
arrive; and, finally, the resolute facing of destiny. Good and bad
deeds were done that night and morning: but the good outvalue the bad,
immeasurably; and when the littlenesses have been duly reckoned, and
the few cowards dismissed, and the uncouth or selfish weighed and
found wanting, there remains the grand total of brave and steadfast
men and women whose names must be enrolled imperishably in any record
of world-heroism.

In a note like this, closing a work which depends so much on the
intimate connection of the author with the scenes that he describes,
it is permissible to be personal. I had read, in a daily paper,
Colonel Gracie’s first account of his experiences; had been struck by
the special quality of the writing, by the pervading atmosphere of
true chivalry--no other word can suggest quite adequately the
impression conveyed by that narrative, written under the stress of
poignant memories. I think that the effect produced by the account was
the same with all who read it: certainly I have met no one who did not
recognize the spirituality and fineness shining through the written
words--a spirituality not opposed to, but entirely in consonance with,
the unmistakable virility of the author. And so, when I met him, I was
peculiarly interested in his personality: it seemed to me that this
man who was sitting at my left hand, talking quietly, had descended
as distinctly into hell as any human being would care to acknowledge,
and had risen again from the dead--or, at least, from the sea of the
dead--into a world which could never again be quite the same to him. I
found myself looking from time to time at his eyes; and I saw in them
what I have seen only once or twice in the eyes of living men--the
experience of death, the acceptance of death, and, the irrevocable
impress of death. And, though he carried himself as a man accustomed
to adventures and unafraid of the big or little ironies of destiny, he
was conscious, I think, of a certain isolation, a new aloofness from
the ordinary routine of daily life. He had been so near to the end of
dreams, had seen the years flash past so suddenly into true
perspective, that it was difficult to resume the trivial round and
reconstitute a mental world in which details should acquire again
their former pretence of importance.

Colonel Gracie survived for less than eight months after the loss of
the _Titanic_. Judged by the imperfect reckoning of impulse, it would
seem almost unfair that he should have gone through so much, winning
his life in the face of such deadly hazards, only to surrender it
after a brief interval. But he himself would have been the last to
complain. His implicit faith in Providence could not be shaken by any
personal suffering. He made a brave fight for life, as he had made a
brave fight for the lives of others while the _Titanic_ was sinking.
When the end was inevitable, he accepted it with composure, though he
had foreseen it with sadness.

The thought of the tragedy with which his name will always be
associated, was constantly in his mind. The writing of his book
involved a great deal of intimate correspondence, with the perpetual
revival of painful memories. He made no effort to evade this strain:
it was part of the task that he had undertaken. He felt strongly that
the work he was doing was absolutely necessary, and could not be
neglected. It was both a public service and a private duty. Simply and
sincerely, he dedicated himself to that service and duty. And now, he
has done his work, and lived his life, and gone out into the light
beyond the darkness. His country has lost a very gallant gentleman.
The world has one more legend of brave deeds.




Transcriber’s Note

Hyphenation has been made consistent.

Punctuation errors have been repaired.

The footnote on page 28 states “See page --”. Presumably a page number
should have been inserted, but was not, and it is preserved as
printed.

Page 259 includes the phrase “an ever-ending meadow.” This is probably
a typesetting error and should read “a never-ending meadow,” but it is
preserved as printed.

Where there were inconsistencies in the spelling of proper names, they
have been made consistent, with reference to published editions of the
two Titanic enquiries and other primary sources, as follows:

    Page 40--Cassobeer amended to Cassebeer--... made in my presence
    by Mrs. H. A. Cassebeer, ...

    Page 64--Whitely amended to Whiteley--... interview of a Saloon
    Steward, Thomas Whiteley, ...

    Page 178--Roberts amended to Robert--Neither my aunt, Mrs.
    Robert, my cousin, ...

    Page 183--Symon amended to Symons--Senator Perkins (addressing
    Perkis, Symons and Hogg:)

    Page 185--Symon amended to Symons--You did not get any orders,
    Mr. Symons ...

    Page 185--Symon amended to Symons--Mr. Symons: No, sir; there
    were no more ...

    Page 185--Symon amended to Symons--As I understand it, Mr.
    Symons pulled away ...

    Page 185--Symon amended to Symons--Mr. Symons made no reply.

    Page 209--Navatil amended to Navratil--... everybody was looking
    for (the Navratil children).

    Page 262--Francetelli amended to Francatelli--... Lady Duff
    Gordon and maid (Miss Francatelli).

    Page 268--Soloman amended to Solomon--A man named A. L. Solomon
    also asked ...

    Page 269--Hendricksen amended to Hendrickson--Charles
    Hendrickson, leading fireman ...

    Page 269--Hendricksen amended to Hendrickson--Hendrickson
    recalled.

    Page 275--Hendricksen’s amended to Hendrickson’s--It was shown
    in Hendrickson’s evidence ...

    Page 276--Hendricksen amended to Hendrickson--... given in the
    first instance by Hendrickson, ...

    Page 287--Thessenger amended to Thessinger--There was Wheelton,
    McMicken, Thessinger, Wheate and myself.

    Page 307--Finley amended to Finlay--Examined by Sir Robert
    Finlay ...

    Page 307--Finley amended to Finlay--Mr. Finlay: Have you crossed
    ...

    Page 307--Finley amended to Finlay--Mr. Finlay: Have you ever,
    ...

    Page 308--Finley amended to Finlay--Mr. Finlay: When you left
    ...

The following amendments have been made on the assumption of printer
errors:

    Page 62--pasengers amended to passengers--... Second Officer
    Lightoller ordered all passengers ...

    Page 73--de amended to du--... namely the wreck of the _Ville du
    Havre_ ...

    Page 99--chapter amended to Chapter--... are recorded in the
    history of Boat B in Chapter V, ...

    Page 153--passenger amended to passengers--_No male passengers
    in this boat._

    Page 154--passenger amended to passengers--_No male passengers
    in this boat._

    Page 170--passenger amended to passengers--_No male passengers._

    Page 181--man passenger amended to male passengers--_No male
    passengers in this boat._

    Page 199--passenger amended to passengers--_No male passengers
    in this boat._

    Page 225--chapter amended to Chapter--... while the previous
    Chapter VI is derived ...

The following amendments have been made for consistency:

    Page 120--No amended to NO--BOAT NO. 6.

    Page 121--omitted p. added--... (Am. Inq., p. 363) ...

    Page 155--omitted p. added--... (Am. Inq., p. 116).

    Page 170--omitted word ‘BOAT’ added and No amended to NO--BOAT
    NO. 16.

    Page 172--No amended to NO--BOAT NO. 2.

    Page 181--No amended to NO--BOAT NO. 4.

    Page 243--omitted p. added--... (Am. Inq., p. 1041): ...

    Page 248--No amended to NO--BOAT NO. 3.

    Page 248--omitted p. added--... (Am. Inq., p. 559): ...

    Page 261--No amended to NO--EMERGENCY BOAT NO. 1.

    Page 279--omitted p. added--... (Am. Inq., p. 755): ...

    Page 281--omitted p. added--... (Am. Inq., p. 595): ...

    Page 283--omitted p. added--... (Am. Inq., p. 602): ...

    Page 284--omitted p. added--... (Am. Inq., p. 648): ...

    Page 290--omitted p. added--... (Am. Inq., p. 798): ...

    Page 319--omitted p. added--... (Am. Inq., p. 834): ...

The frontispiece illustration has been moved to follow the title page.
Other illustrations have been moved where necessary so that they are
not in the middle of a paragraph.



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