HOW ASTOR WENT TO DEATH.
How Astor Went to Death--“I Resign Myself to My Fate,” He
Said--Kissed Wife Fond Farewell--Lifted Cap to Wife as Boat Left
Ship--Crushed to Death By Ice--Famous Novelist’s Daughter Hears of
His Death--Philadelphia Millionaires’ Heroism--Last to See Widener
Alive--Major Butt Dies a Soldier’s Death.
The heroism of the majority of the men who went down to death with the
Titanic has been told over and over again. How John Jacob Astor kissed
his wife and saluted death as he looked squarely into its face; the
devotion of Mrs. Isidor Straus to her aged husband and the willingness
with which she went to her doom with his loving arms pressed tenderly
around her, the tales of life sacrificed that women might be saved
brought some need of comfort to the stricken.
G. A. Brayton, of Los Angeles, Cal, says: “John Jacob Astor went to
one of the officers and told them who he was, and asked to go in the
lifeboat with his wife. The officer told him he could not go in the
lifeboat. Astor then kissed his wife good-bye and she was put in the
lifeboat. Astor said: ‘I resign myself to my fate’ and saluted in
farewell.”
“Colonel Astor and Major Archibald Butt died together on the bridge
of the ill-fated ship,” said Dr. Washington Dodge, of San Francisco,
one of the survivors. “I saw them standing there side by side. I was
in one of the last boats, and I could not mistake them. Earlier during
the desperate struggle to get the boats cleared I had seen them both at
work quieting passengers and helping the officers maintain order.
“A few minutes before the last I saw Colonel Astor help his wife, who
appeared ill, into a boat, and I saw him wave his hand to her and smile
as the boat pulled away.”
Before the lifeboats left the ship, not far from the woman who would
not let her husband meet death alone, Colonel Astor stood supporting
the figure of his young bride, says another survivor. A boat was being
filled with women. Colonel Astor helped his wife to a place in it. The
boat was not filled, and there seemed no more women near it. Quietly
the Colonel turned to the second officer, who was superintending the
loading.
“May I go with my wife? She is ill,” he asked. The Officer nodded. The
man of millions got into the boat. The crew were about to cast off the
falls. Suddenly the Colonel sprang to his feet, shouting to them to
wait. He had seen a woman running toward the boat. Leaping over the
rail, he helped her to the place he had occupied.
TRIED TO CLIMB FROM THE BOAT.
Mrs. Astor screamed and tried to climb from the boat. The Colonel
restrained her. He bent and tenderly patted her shoulder.
“The ladies first, dear heart,” he was heard to say.
Then quietly he saluted the second officer and turned to help in
lowering more boats.
Miss Margaret Hayes gave another version of the manner in which Colonel
Astor met his death: “Colonel Astor, with his wife, came out on deck
as I was being assisted into a lifeboat,” said Miss Hayes, “and both
got into another boat. Colonel Astor had his arms about his wife and
assisted her into the boat. At the time there were no women waiting
to get into the boats, and the ship’s officer at that point invited
Colonel Astor to get into the boat with his wife. The Colonel, after
looking around and seeing no women, got into the boat, and his wife
threw her arms about him.
“The boat in which Colonel Astor and his wife were sitting was about to
be lowered when a woman came running out of the companionway. Raising
his hand, Colonel Astor stopped the preparations to lower his boat
and, stepping out, assisted the woman into the seat he had occupied.
“Mrs. Astor cried out, and wanted to get out of the boat with her
husband, but the Colonel patted her on the back and said something in a
low tone of voice.”
A nephew of Senator Clark, of Butte, Montana, said Astor stood by the
after rail looking after the lifeboats until the Titanic went down.
Brayton says: “Captain Smith stood on the bridge until he was washed
off by a wave. He swam back, stood on the bridge again and was there
when the Titanic went to the bottom.” Brayton says that Henry B.
Harris, the theatrical manager, “tried to get on a lifeboat with his
wife, but the second officer held him back with a gun. A third-class
passenger who tried to climb in the boats was shot and killed by a
steward. This was the only shooting on board I know of.”
Another account of Captain Smith’s death is as follows:
CAPTAIN SMITH DIED A HERO
Captain Smith died a hero’s death. He went to the bottom of the
ocean without effort to save himself. His last acts were to place a
five-year-old child on the last lifeboat in reach, then cast his life
belt to the ice ridden waters and resign to the fate that tradition
down the ages observed as a strict law.
It was left to a fireman of the Titanic to tell the tale of the death
of Captain Smith and the last message he left behind him. This man had
gone down with the vessel and was clinging to a piece of wreckage about
half an hour before he finally joined several members of the Titanic’s
company on the bottom of a boat which was floating among other wreckage.
Harry Senior, the fireman, with his eight or nine companions in
distress, had just managed to get a firm hold on the upturned boat,
when they saw the Titanic rearing preparatory to her final plunge. At
that moment, according to the fireman’s tale, Captain Smith jumped into
the sea from the promenade deck of the Titanic with an infant clutched
tenderly in his arms.
It only took a few strokes to bring him to the upturned lifeboat, where
a dozen hands were stretched out to take the little child from his arms
and drag him to safety.
“Captain Smith was dragged on the upturned boat,” said the fireman. “He
had on a life buoy and a life preserver. He clung there a moment and
then he slid off again. For a second time he was dragged from the icy
water. Then he took off his life preserver, tossed the life buoy on the
inky waters and slipped into the water again with the words; ‘I will
follow the ship.’”
At that time there was only a circle of troubled water and some
wreckage to show the spot where the biggest of all ocean steamers had
sunk out of sight.
“No,” said the stoker, as he waved a sandwich above his head, holding
a glass of beer in the other hand, “Captain Smith never shot himself.
I saw what he did. He went down with that ship. I’ll stake my life on
that.”
THE SAME STORY REPEATED.
Oddly enough, a Swedish stoker and survivor, named Oscar Ingstrom, at
another hotel in the same vicinity, gave to one of the most prominent
Swedish newspaper men in New York City practically the same tale that
Senior told.
Wilson Potter, whose mother, Mrs. Thomas Potter, Jr., of Mt. Airy, Pa.,
was one of the survivors, told how she had urged Colonel Astor and his
wife to leave the Titanic before the vessel went down.
“My mother was one of the first to leave the Titanic,” he said. “As the
lifeboats were filling up, she called to Colonel and Mrs. Astor to come
aboard. Mrs. Astor waved her off, exclaiming, ‘We are safer here than
in that little boat.’
“Hundreds of other passengers thought the same way. So much so, that
the first lifeboat, which my mother boarded, was large enough to hold
forty persons besides the crew; still only ten came along. All were of
the opinion that the Titanic would remain afloat until aid came from
another steamer.”
Mr. Potter also related another version of how J. B. Thayer, Jr., and
his mother were rescued.
“As the crash came Mrs. Thayer fainted. Young Mr. Thayer carried her to
one of the lifeboats. As she was lifted in father and son lost their
hold and fell between the sinking steamer and the lifeboat.
“After struggling in the water for several minutes Young Mr. Thayer
was picked up by a raft. Two hours later the raft was found by the
Carpathia.”
A third remarkable escape as related by Mr. Potter was that of Richard
Norris Williams.
“Mr. Williams remained on the stern of the Titanic,” said Mr. Potter.
“He says the stern of the boat went down, then came up. As it started
to go down a second time Mr. Williams says he dived off and swam to a
raft, which was picked up two hours later by the Carpathia.”
UTTERLY EXHAUSTED FROM HER EXPERIENCE.
When utterly exhausted from her experience, Mrs. John Jacob Astor was
declared by Nicholas Biddle, a trustee of the Astor estate, to be in
no danger whatever. Her physicians, however, have given orders that
neither Mrs. Astor nor her maid, who was saved with her, be permitted
to talk about the disaster.
On landing from the Carpathia, the young bride, widowed by the
Titanic’s sinking, told members of her family what she could recall of
the circumstances of the disaster. Of how Colonel Astor met his death,
she has no definite conception. She recalled, she thought, that in
the confusion, as she was about to be put into one of the boats, the
Colonel was standing by her side. After that, as Mr. Biddle recounted
her narrative, she had no very clear recollection of the happenings
until the boats were well clear of the sinking steamer.
Mrs. Astor, it appears, left in one of the last boats which got away
from the ship. It was her belief that all the women who wished to go
had been taken off. Her impression was that the boat she left in had
room for at least fifteen more persons.
The men, for some reason, which, as she recalled it, she could not and
does not now understand, did not seem to be at all anxious to leave the
ship. Almost every one seemed dazed.
“I hope he is alive somewhere. Yes, I cannot think anything else,” the
young woman said of her husband to her father as she left the latter
to go to the Astor home, according to some who overheard her parting
remarks.
The chief steerage steward of the Titanic, who came in on the
Carpathia, says that he saw John Jacob Astor standing by the life
ladder as the passengers were being embarked. His wife was beside him,
the steward said. The Colonel left her to go to the purser’s office for
a moment, and that was the last he saw of him.
WRITER GOES DOWN WITH THE SHIP.
Mrs. May Futrelle, whose husband, Jacques Futrelle, the writer, went
down with the ship, was met here by her daughter, Miss Virginia
Futrelle, who was brought to New York from the Convent of Notre Dame in
Baltimore.
Miss Futrelle had been told that her father had been picked up by
another steamer. Mrs. Charles Copeland, of Boston, a sister of the
writer, who also met Mrs. Futrelle, was under the same impression.
“I am so happy that father is safe, too,” declared Miss Futrelle,
as her mother clasped her in her arms. It was some time before Mrs.
Futrelle could compose herself.
“Where is Jack?” Miss Copeland asked.
Mrs. Futrelle, afraid to let her daughter know the truth, said: “Oh! he
is on another ship.”
Mrs. Copeland guessed the truth and became hysterical. Then the
writer’s daughter broke down.
“Jack died like a hero,” Mrs. Futrelle said, when the party became
composed. “He was in the smoking-room when the crash came--the noise of
the smash was terrific--and I was going to bed. I was hurled from my
feet by the impact. I hardly found myself when Jack came rushing into
the stateroom.
“The boat is going down, get dressed at once!” he shouted. When
we reached the deck everything was in the wildest confusion. The
screams of women and the shrill orders of the officers were drowned
intermittently by the tremendous vibrations of the Titanic’s bass
foghorn.
“The behavior of the men was magnificent. They stood back without
murmuring and urged the women and children into the lifeboats. A few
cowards tried to scramble into the boats, but they were quickly thrown
back by the others. Let me say now that the only men who were saved
were those who sneaked into the lifeboats or were picked up after the
Titanic sank.
“I did not want to leave Jack, but he assured me that there were boats
enough for all and that he would be rescued later.
LIFTED INTO A LIFE-BOAT AND KISSED.
“Hurry up, May, you’re keeping the others waiting,” were his last
words, as he lifted me into a lifeboat and kissed me good-bye. I was in
one of the last lifeboats to leave the ship. We had not put out many
minutes when the Titanic disappeared. I almost thought, as I saw her
sink beneath the water, that I could see Jack, standing where I had
left him and waving at me.”
Mrs. Futrelle said she saw the parting of Colonel John Jacob Astor and
his young bride. Mrs. Astor was frantic. Her husband had to jump into
the lifeboat four times and tell her that he would be rescued later.
After the fourth time, Mrs. Futrelle said, he jumped back on the deck
of the sinking ship and the lifeboat bearing his bride made off.
George D. Widener and his son, Harry Elkins Widener, lost in the wreck
of the Titanic, died the death of heroes. They stood back that the
weaker might have a chance of being saved.
Mrs. Widener, one of the last women to leave the ship, fought to die
with her husband and her son. She would have succeeded probably had
not sailors literally torn her from her husband and forced her on to a
life-raft.
As she descended the ladder at the ship’s side, compelled to leave
despite her frantic, despairing pleas, she called to Mr. Widener and to
her son pitifully:
“Oh, my God!” she cried. “Good-bye! George! Harry! Good-bye! Good-bye!
Oh, God! this is awful!” And that was the last she saw of her husband
and of her son, who waved a brave farewell as she disappeared down the
ladder.
Mr. Widener, according to James B. McGough, 708 West York street,
Philadelphia, a buyer for the Gimbel store, one of those rescued, was
as calm and collected, except at the time of the final parting from his
wife, as though he were “taking a walk on Broad street.”
HELPED WOMEN AND CHILDREN.
The financier’s son, too, was calm. The two men helped the women and
the children to make their escape, but always stood back themselves
when a boat or raft was launched. As soon as the vessel had struck the
iceberg Mr. and Mrs. Widener had sought out Captain Smith.
“What is the outlook?” Mr. Widener was heard to inquire.
“It is extremely serious,” was the quick reply. “Please keep cool and
do what you can to help us.” And this is what Mr. Widener did.
Mr. McGough, when he returned to his home, contributed to the several
versions of the escape of John B. Thayer, Jr., son of John B. Thayer,
second Vice president of the Pennsylvania Railroad, who was lost. One
version was that the boy jumped from the Titanic just as she sank, and
that he swam about among big cakes of ice until taken aboard a lifeboat.
Mr. McGough in his account of the lad’s rescue says the boy jumped as
the vessel sank, but that he alighted near a life-raft, to which, half
frozen, he clung until taken aboard a boat.
Another statement by Mr. McGough was that when a man, presumably an
Associated Press correspondent, boarded the Carpathia off Cape Cod,
and tried to wireless a message ashore a ship officer seized it and
threw it into the ocean.
Several weeks ago Mr. McGough was sent abroad on a purchasing trip
for his firm. With him were J. D. Flynn, of New York, formerly of
Philadelphia, and N. P. Calderhead, also a former Philadelphian.
When the gang plank was thrown down from the Carpathia, Mr. McGough
was the first passenger from the ill-starred Titanic to land, waiting
for him were his wife, Mrs. Mary McGough, and his three brothers,
Philip A., Thomas and Andrew McGough, all of 252 South Seventh street,
Philadelphia. His wife saw him first. Stretching out her arms, she
threw herself from the police lines toward him, and in a moment he had
her clasped in his embrace.
SENDS A MESSAGE TO HIS MOTHER.
Afterward he rushed through the crowd and took a motor car to the home
of a relative. Thence he went to the Imperial Hotel. From the hotel he
sent a message to his mother at 252 South Seventh street.
“I am here, safe,” the message read.
“The collision which caused the loss of the Titanic,” Mr. McGough said,
“occurred about 11.40 o’clock. I had an outer state-room on the side
toward the iceberg against which the ship crashed. Flynn who occupied
the room with me, had just gone to bed. Calderhead was in bed in a
stateroom adjoining.
“When the crash came, I ran to the porthole. I saw the ice pressed
close against the side of the ship. Chunks of it were ground off, and
they fell into the window. I happened to glance at my watch, and it
showed me exactly the hour.
“I knew that something was seriously wrong, and hastily got into my
clothes. I took time, also, to get my watch and money. Flynn, in the
meantime, had run over to Calderhead’s stateroom and had awakened him.
When I had dressed I ran outside.
“I saw the iceberg. The boat deck stood about ninety feet out of the
water and the berg towered above us for at least fifty feet. I judge
the berg stood between 140 and 150 feet out of the water.
“Many of the women on board, I am sure, did not leave their staterooms
at once. They stayed there, at least for a time. I believe that many of
them did not awaken to their danger until near the last.
“One statement I want to correct, the lights did not go out, at least
not while I was on board. When I ran to the deck I heard Captain Smith
order that the air chambers be examined. An effort was made to work the
doors closing the compartments, but to no avail. When the ship ran upon
the iceberg, the sharp-pointed berg cut through both thicknesses of the
bottom and left it in such a position that it filled rapidly.
MIGHT HAVE PERISHED.
“I remember that it was a beautiful night. There was no wind and the
sea was calm. But for this it is certain that when the boats were
launched most all of us would have perished in the ice-covered sea. At
first the captain ordered the hatches over the steerage fastened down.
This was to prevent the hysterical passengers in that part of the ship
rushing to the deck and increasing the panic. Before we left, however,
those passengers were released.
“Two sailors were put into each of the boats. When the boats were
lowered the women hung back. They feared to go down the long, steep
ladder to the water. Seeing them hesitate, I cried: ‘Someone has to be
first,’ and started down the ladder.
“I had hardly started before I regretted I had not waited on deck. But
I feel if I had not led the way the women would not have started and
the death list would have been much larger. Flynn and Calderhead led
the way into other boats.
“It was only a short time before the boat was filled. We had fifty-five
in our boat, nearly all of them women. We had entered the craft so
hastily that we did not take time to get a light.
“For a time we bobbed about on the ocean. Then we started to row
slowly away. I shall never forget the screams that flowed over the
ocean toward us from the sinking ship. At the end there was a mad rush
and scramble.
“It was fearfully hard on the women. Few of them were completely
dressed. Some wore only their night gowns, with some light wrapper or
kimono over them. The air was pitilessly cold.
“There were so few men in the boat the women had to row. This was good
for some of them, as it kept their blood in circulation, but even then
it was the most severe experience for them imaginable. Some of them
were half-crazed with grief or terror. Several became ill from the
exposure.
“I saw Mr. Widener just before I left, and afterward, while we were
rowing away from the vessel I had a good glimpse of him. He appeared as
calm and collected as though he were taking a walk on Broad st. When
the rush for the boats began he and his son Harry, stood back.
SHIP GOES DOWN AT 2.30 O’CLOCK.
“At the end sailors had to tear Mrs. Widener from him, and she went
down the ladder, calling to him pitifully. The ship went down at 2.20
o’clock exactly. The front end went down gradually. We saw no men shot,
but just before the finish we heard several shots.
“I was told that Captain Smith or one of the officers shot himself
on the bridge just before the Titanic went under. I heard also that
several men had been killed as they made a final rush for the boats,
trying to cut off the women and children.
“While we were floating around the sailors set off some redfire, which
illuminated the ocean for miles around. This was a signal of distress.
Unfortunately there was no one near enough to answer in time.
“John B. Thayer, Jr., was saved after he had gone down with the ship.
Just as the vessel took the plunge he leaped over the side. He struck
out for a life raft and reached it. There he clung for several hours
until, half-frozen, he was taken into one of the boats which was a
trifle less crowded than the others.
“For six hours we bobbed around in the ocean. We rowed over to a boat
that was provided with a light, and tied the two small craft together.
Finally daylight came, and the sun rose in a clear sky. There we were,
a little fleet, alone in the limitless ocean, with the ice cakes
tossing about on all sides.
“It was after 8 o’clock in the morning when we saw the masts of a
steamship coming up over the horizon. It was the most blessed sight our
eyes ever saw. It meant an end to the physical suffering, a relief to
the strain under which we had been laboring. Many broke down when they
saw it.
“The ship, of course, was the Carpathia. While it was hurrying toward
us the crew and passengers had made the most generous preparations for
us. When they took us on board they had blankets, clothing, food and
warm liquids all ready. Their physicians were ready to care for the
sick. The passengers gave up their warm beds to us.
BUMPED INTO FLOATING BODIES.
“During the time we were in the water we bumped frequently into the
bodies that floated about us. A great many of the men jumped into the
water before the boat sank, and they were their bodies that we struck.”
D. H. Bishop, a rich lumber man of Dowagaic, Mich., who with his wife,
was returning from a bridal trip to Egypt, is the last person known to
have seen George D. Widener alive. Mr. Bishop said:
“My wife and I had just retired when we heard the jar and felt a
decided tilt of the ship. I got up and started to investigate, but soon
became reassured and went back to bed. A few minutes later we heard
calls to put on life belts.
“My wife felt very alarmed and kneeled to pray. She said she knew we
would be lost, though at that time there was no reason to think so, and
she remarked: ‘What is the use bothering with jewelry if we are going
to die?’ Accordingly she left in her stateroom jewelry worth about
$11,000, but strangely enough insisted upon me running back and getting
her muff.
“As we came up the stairway we met Captain Smith and Colonel John Jacob
Astor talking hurriedly. What they said I do not know. When we got on
deck there were not more than fifty people there and no one seemed
excited and no one appeared to want to get into the lifeboats, though
urged to do so. Mrs. Bishop and I were literally lifted into the first
lifeboat.
“At that time I observed Mr. and Mrs. Widener, and I saw the former
leave his wife as she was getting into the lifeboat and, accompanied
by his son, go toward the stairway. I did not see them again, as our
lifeboat with only twenty-eight persons in it and only half-manned, was
lowered over the side at that moment. An instant later there was an
apparent rush for the lifeboats and as we rowed away they came over the
side with great rapidity.
“Before we were a hundred yards away men were jumping overboard, and
when we were a mile away the ship went down with cries from the men and
women aboard that were heart-rending.
“There is nothing to say concerning the blame, except that I do know
that icebergs were known to be in our vicinity and that it was the
subject of much talk that the Titanic was out for a record. Captain
Smith was dining with J. Bruce Ismay, managing director of the White
Star Line, and of course was not on the bridge. It was rumored on the
Carpathia that Captain Smith tried to save himself in a lifeboat at the
last minute, but of this I know nothing.