WOMAN’S THRILLING NARRATIVE.
Barber Says Good Word for Accused Shipowner--Claims He was a
Witness--Saw the Whole Scene--Woman Tells Different Tale--Mrs.
Carter’s Thrilling Narrative--Barber’s Story Differs From Ismay’s Own.
J. Bruce Ismay, managing director of the White Star Line, who has
been widely charged with cowardice in saving himself when the Titanic
was wrecked, has found his first defender in the person of August H.
Weikman, “commodore” barber of that company’s fleet, who was chief
ship’s barber on the ill-fated vessel.
Weikman declares that he was a witness of the scene when Ismay left
the vessel, and that he literally was thrown into the lifeboat by a
seaman, who did not recognize him, and thought he was interfering with
the work. He asserts that Ismay was striving valiantly to help in the
work of launching the boats, and went overboard only under physical
compulsion.
Weikman was accompanied to his home in Palmyra, N. J., by his
brothers-in-law, A. H. and John Henricks, who tell of a vexatious
experience in getting him off the Carpathia. Weikman was badly injured
when he was blown off the ship by the explosion of the boilers.
A. H. Henricks charges that the custom officials refused him a pass
to the pier because he wanted to get a member of the ship’s crew, and
the official said they were not bothering about the crew. The brothers
finally made their way to the pier by running between double lines of
automobiles. Weikman was brought off the Carpathia on a rolling chair
too late to catch the special train which came to this city, and the
Pennsylvania Railroad officials provided him with a berth free of
charge.
“I was in my barber shop reading,” said Weikman, “when I felt a slight
jar and realized we had struck something. I went to the gymnasium to
see whether others had noticed it. I found some of the men punching
the bag, while Colonel Astor, Mr. Widener and a number of others were
watching them.
“I had known Mr. Widener for some time, and I advised him to put on a
life belt. He laughed at me.
“‘What sense is there in that? This boat isn’t going to sink,’ he said
to me. ‘There is plenty of time. We’re safer here than in a small boat,
anyway.’
“Then came the order to man the boats and I went on deck to help. I saw
Mr. Ismay at the rail, directing and helping the men. One of them did
not recognize him and said: ‘What are you interfering for? You get back
out of the way.’
“GET BACK OR GO OVERBOARD.”
“Another seaman warned the first man that he was speaking to the head
of the line. ‘I don’t care who he is; he’s got to get back or go
overboard. We can’t be bothered with him and his orders now,’ was the
reply. Mr. Ismay stuck to his place and continued giving orders and
directing the men.
“The rule was observed of sending over four women and then a man to
look after them. When four women had been put over, the seaman turned
to Mr. Ismay and ordered him over the side. Mr. Ismay refused to go,
when the seaman seized him, rushed him to the rail and hurled him over.
I saw that myself, and I know that Mr. Ismay did not go of his own
accord and that the charge of cowardice is unfair and untrue.
“While I was still helping at the boats there came an explosion from
below-decks and the ship took an awful lunge, throwing everybody into
a heap. I was hurled clear of the vessel’s side and landed on top of
a bundle of deck-chairs which was floating on the water. I was badly
bruised and my back was sprained. My watch stopped at 1.50 A. M. and I
believe it was at that time I was thrown into the water.
“While I lay floating on the bundle of chairs there came another
terrific explosion and the ship seemed to split in two. There was a
rain of wreckage and a big piece of timber fell on me, striking my
lifebelt. I believe if it had not been for the belt I would have been
killed. I floated for what I believe was about two hours. Then arms
reached down and drew me aboard a life raft. The man who did this was
a seaman named Brown, whose life I probably had saved two years ago by
hurrying him to a hospital in England when he was taken ill suddenly.
“There were six persons on the raft and others were in the water up to
their necks, hanging on to the edges of the raft. The raft was already
awash, and we could not take them aboard. One by one, as they became
chilled through, they bade us good-bye and sank. In the bottom of the
raft was a man whom I had shaved that morning, and whom I had been told
was worth $5,000,000. I did not know his name. He was dead.
PICKED UP BY THE CARPATHIA.
“And so we floated on the raft, bereft of hope and stupefied by the
calamity, until picked up by the Carpathia. I was so badly injured they
had to take me on board in a boatswain’s chair.”
The happiness of husbands at seeing their wives put in the way of
safety from the Titanic was described by Mrs. Turrell Cavendish,
daughter of Henry Siegel. She said: “I was with my husband in our
stateroom when the accident happened. He awakened me, I remember it was
midnight and told me something was the matter with the boat.
“My husband kissed me and put me into a boat, in which were
twenty-three women. He told me to go and that he would stay on the ship
with the other men. They were happy to see their wives lowered away in
the boats. They kept telling us they would be all right because the
ship could not sink.
“We were lowered into the water without any light, only one man tried
to get into the boat. He was pushed back by a sailor. Most of the
women in the boat I was in were in their bare feet. I can still see
those husbands kissing their wives and telling them good-bye. I can see
the sailors standing by so calm and brave. The sight of those good men
who gave their lives for others will always be with me. Words can’t
tell the tale of their sacrifice.
“The hours we spent in that small boat after those heroic men went down
were hours of torture. When we got on the Carpathia we were treated
with the utmost consideration.
“I saw Mr. Ismay when he came on board. He was trembling from head to
foot and kept saying, ‘I’m Ismay, I’m Ismay’.”
Immediately upon their disembarkation from the Carpathia Mr. and Mrs.
William E. Carter, Miss Lucille Carter and William E. Carter, Jr., of
Newport, Bryn Mawr, and 2116 Walnut street, Philadelphia, about whom so
much anxiety was felt for the first twenty-four hours after the news
of the Titanic disaster reached the mainland, went in taxicabs to the
home of William Dickerman, at 89 Madison avenue. Mr. Dickerman is a
brother-in-law of Mr. Carter.
IT WAS LIFE OR DEATH.
“I kissed my husband good-bye and as he stood on the deck I went
down the side to a lifeboat. There were no seamen there. It was life
or death. I took an oar and started to row,” said Mrs. Carter, who
was formerly Miss Lucille Polk, of Baltimore, when seen later at the
Madison avenue house.
Mrs. Carter had just come from the ship, and the tears were still
in her eyes; glad tears from the welcome she had received from her
relatives, among whom was Anderson Polk, who had come to New York to
meet her. She told of being roused from her sleep at fourteen minutes
of twelve on Sunday night by the sudden crash, of rushing out on the
deck to find the chaos of destruction quickly form itself into the
decisive action of brave men about to face their death.
Clasping her hands tightly she told how the men had stood back or else
helped to lower away the lifeboats, and then, kissing their wives,
bade them a good-bye which they thought would be forever. In brief
words, tensely spoken, she told of going into the lifeboat and taking
an oar. At ten minutes past 1 o’clock there was a sudden explosion and
the giant hulk of the Titanic blew up, rearing in the water like a
spurred horse and then sinking beneath the waves.
She had to pull hard with her oars in the desperate attempt which the
poorly manned lifeboat had to make to keep from being sucked down with
the diving Titanic. After minutes of work with the desperation of
death, they made their way out of the suction and were saved. It was
not until she was taken aboard the Carpathia that she met her husband,
saved because he had to man an oar in another lifeboat.
DID NOT ANTICIPATE TROUBLE.
“We had a pleasant voyage from England,” began Mrs. Carter. “The ship
behaved splendidly, and we did not anticipate any trouble at all. I had
retired on Sunday night, an hour before we struck the iceberg. The men
were in the cabin smoking. Most of them were in the smoking-room when
the ship hit.
“The first I knew of the accident was a tremendous thump which nearly
threw me out of my berth. I realized that something must have happened,
and feared that it was a bad accident. A moment later my husband came
down to the stateroom and told me that we had struck an iceberg.
“There was no confusion. I dressed myself hurriedly and went on deck
with my children. The ship was badly damaged. The officers thought at
first that she would not sink and we were told to be calm. But it was
not long before we knew that the ship could not long stand the strain
of the water which was pouring into the bow and bearing the ship down
on her forward part.
“Then came the time when we knew that it must either be the lifeboats
or stay on the ship and sink with her. The seamen began to lower away
the lifeboats. One after another they released whatever machinery held
them and they dropped into the ocean. There was ice all about us and
the night being comparatively clear we could see the floes around us
when we peered down over the side of the ship.
“When the boats had been lowered then it was that the time of parting
came. There was no excitement. Every one of the men whose wives or
women folk were with them took them to the side of the ship where a
lifeboat was waiting and kissed them over the side.
“Major Archibald Butt remained on board and went down with the ship.
Colonel Astor also went down with the ship. Mrs. Astor was in my boat.
The Colonel took her to the side and kissed her and saw her over the
side.
“When I went over the side with my children and got in the boat there
were no seamen in it. Then came a few men, but there were oars with no
one to use them. The boat had been filled with passengers and there was
nothing else for me to do but to take an oar.
WARNED TO PULL AWAY FROM SHIP.
“We could see now that the time of the ship had come. She was sinking
and we were warned by the cries from the men above to pull away from
the ship quickly. Mrs. Thayer, wife of the Vice president of the
Pennsylvania Railroad, was in my boat, and she, too, took an oar.
“It was cold and we had no time to clothe ourselves with warm
overcoats. The rowing warmed me. We started to pull away from the ship.
We could see the dim outlines of the decks above, but we could not
recognize anybody.
“We had pulled our lifeboat away from the Titanic for a distance of
about a city block, that is about all, I should say--when the Titanic
seemed to shake to pieces. The ship had struck about fourteen minutes
to 12. It was ten minutes past 1 when we saw her lunge.
“She had exploded. There was a rumbling noise within her, then she
gave a lurch and started to go down. We realized what it meant. That
the sinking ship would suck us under with her. It was a moment later
that the suction struck us. It was all we could do to keep from being
caught, so strong was the drag down that followed the Titanic.
“But we pulled away at last, after straining as hard as we could at the
oars. Then we were alone in the boat, and it seemed darker. We remained
in the boat all night waiting for daylight to come. It came at last,
and when it broke over the sea we saw ice floes all about it.
“It was about 8.30 o’clock when the Carpathia came into sight. I can’t
tell how I felt when I saw her. I had believed that my husband had gone
down on the ship. It was not until after we were taken over the side of
the Carpathia that I saw him.
“Mr. Carter had been compelled to take an oar in a lifeboat that was
not sufficiently manned. That is how he came to be saved. All of the
men waited for the women to go first. Mr. Carter was among the number.
When he put me into a lifeboat he stayed back, and I had thought when I
saw the ship blow up and sink that he had gone down with her.
DOES NOT DESERVE CRITICISM.
“Mr. Ismay does not deserve any criticism for being saved. He was
another of those who had to man an oar in a lifeboat, so as to get the
boats out of danger by being sucked under by the sinking Titanic.”
Three French survivors, Fernand Oment, Pierre Marechal, son of the
well-known French Admiral, and Paul Chevre, the sculptor, conjointly
cabled to the “Matin” a graphic narrative of the disaster to the
Titanic, in which they repeatedly insist that more lives could have
been saved if the passengers had not had such dogged faith that the
Titanic was unsinkable. Several boats, they declared, could have
carried double the number.
The three Frenchmen say that they were playing bridge with a
Philadelphian when a great, crunching mass of ice packed up against
the port holes. As they rushed on deck there was much confusion, but
this quickly died down. One of the officers when questioned by a woman
passenger humorously replied:
“Do not be afraid. We are merely cutting a whale in two.”
Presently the captain appeared to become somewhat nervous and ordered
all to put on life preservers. The boats were then lowered, but only
a few people stirred and several of the boats put off half empty, one
with only fifteen persons in it.
When the Frenchmen’s boat rowed off for half a mile the Titanic
presented a fairylike picture illuminated from stem to stern. Then
suddenly the lights began to go out and the stern reared up high in the
air. An immense clamor rose on all sides, and during an hour anguished
cries rang out.
It was, say the narrators, like a great chorus chanting a refrain of
death with wild obstinacy. Sometimes the cries died out and then the
tragic chorus began again more terribly and more despairingly.
The narrative continues:
“Those shrieks pursued us and haunted us as we pulled away in the
night. Then one by one the cries ceased, and only the noise of the sea
remained. The Titanic was engulfed almost without a murmur. Her stern
quivered in a final spasm and then disappeared.”
The Frenchmen and their companions suffered bitterly from the cold.
They cried out to attract attention, and a German baron, who was with
them, emptied his revolver in the air. When finally the Carpathia
appeared a feeble hurrah went up from the small boats, every one of
which moved as swiftly as possible toward the liner.
The Frenchmen related tragic incidents as they were leaving the
sides of the Titanic. After all the boats had been launched many of
the passengers who had stayed behind too long tried to embark on a
collapsible raft, which worked badly. Fifty persons climbed onto the
raft, which was half filled with water.
One after another the passengers on the raft were drowned, or perished
with the cold. When a body was found in the way it was thrown
overboard, and only fifteen of the fifty who had taken refuge on the
raft were saved by the Carpathia.