MRS. ASTOR’S BRAVERY.
Showed Wonderful Fortitude in the Hour of Peril--Sailors in Lifeboat
Tell Of Her Heroism--Pleaded To Remain With Husband--Change
Clothes to Embark--Seamen Confirm Murdock’s Suicide--One Heartless
Fiend--Williams Killed as Funnel Fell.
Narratives of the remarkable heroism of Colonel John Jacob Astor and
the patient fortitude of Mrs. Astor under conditions that tried the
self-control of the hardiest, continue to come to light.
The narrative of the dreadful suspense which in a short time changed
her from a radiant bride to a sorrowing widow was told by a friend of
the family.
At the same time survivors who occupied lifeboat No. 4, in which Mrs.
Astor and her maid escaped, told of how Mrs. Astor had helped calm
the other women and had even offered fellow sufferers portions of her
slender stock of clothing.
“Mrs Astor was the bravest little woman I ever met,” said Jack Foley,
who, with his mate, Sam Parks, pulled an oar in boat No. 4.
“Colonel Astor was a man all through, if there ever was one,” continued
Foley. “You see, it took us some time to launch boat No. 4. After we
had all the women and the children in the boat we discovered that we
couldn’t launch her until we removed the sounding spar several decks
below.
“So Sam and I got down and chopped the spar away. We were some time
doing this, as we had to hunt for an ax.
“We finally got the spar away and launched the boat. That is why boat
No. 4 was the last boat to be launched. The others had a free way
below it and could be put in the water at once.
“While waiting up there Mrs. Astor several times wanted to leave the
boat. Mr. Astor kept telling the good little woman that he was sure to
be saved and that it was her duty to go.
“She stretched out her arms just as though she was pleading with him
to let her get out of the boat and take her place with him. Mr. Astor
picked up a heavy steamer shawl and wrapped it about her shoulders.
“After pulling those eight men into the boat I was pretty wet and was
shivering. Mrs. Astor threw the shawl about my shoulders and said that
I needed it more than she did. I told her that I would get warmed up
after pulling a while at the oar and would have no use for it.
WHIMPERING WITH COLD.
“I put the shawl back on her lap. Sitting next to Mrs. Astor was a
Swedish woman with a little girl that I should take to be three or four
years old. The little girl was whimpering with the cold.
“Mrs. Astor took the shawl and threw it about the shoulders of this
woman, who thanked her in some foreign lingo. Then the steerage woman
kissed her little girl and took her into her arms and wrapped the shawl
about her.
“When the explosion occurred aboard the ship Mrs. Astor made some
kind of a sound, but I couldn’t understand whether she said anything
or merely sobbed. She turned her head away from the direction of the
vessel.”
So little was the impact felt at the time of the collision that Mrs.
Astor thought the crash was the result of some mishap in the kitchen
and paid no attention to it until the engines stopped.
Then, realizing that something was wrong, she inquired of her steward
the cause. He informed her that a slight accident had happened, and
that the captain had ordered the women to the lifeboats, but he added
that this was only a precautionary measure, and that they would all be
back soon again on the ship.
Mrs. Astor then entered her stateroom and changed her dress,
preparatory to leaving the Titanic for one of the lifeboats in company
with her maid.
As she left the room the steward told her he would lock up her suite so
that nobody would enter it during her absence, for he thought everybody
would soon return.
Colonel Astor accompanied his wife and her maid to lifeboat No. 4. When
he attempted to enter it he was pushed back by the sailor in charge,
and was told that no men were permitted in it.
“But,” said Colonel Astor, “there are no more women to be taken in, and
there is plenty of room.”
“That makes no difference,” replied the man; “the orders are no men, so
you cannot get in.”
There was no use arguing, Colonel and Mrs. Astor thought, so, waving
her adieu, he called out:
“Good-bye, Madeleine.”
TITANIC GOING DOWN TO HER DOOM.
Lifeboat No. 4 did not go far before she returned to the place which
soon after became the Titanic’s grave. The great “unsinkable” ship was
already going fast to her doom, and fear that the suction from the
sinking vessel would draw down the little lifeboat made its sailors
once more turn away from the wreck and seek safety, with its handful of
women and its empty seats.
When the Carpathia hove in sight two sailors in lifeboat No. 4 were
dead. The watch of one, which a woman looked at, had stopped at 2.15
o’clock.
In the roster of the Titanic’s heroes the name of Robbins should
appear. He was Colonel Astor’s old butler, and, like the Colonel’s
valet, always traveled with him. He is numbered among the Titanic’s
dead.
Faithful unto death was Kitty, Colonel Astor’s Airedale terrier and
constant companion. On land or sea, Kitty was never far from her
master’s heels, and the two were familiar figures on 5th avenue.
When the crash came Robbins went below and brought Kitty up on deck.
There, the most faithful of friends, she stood beside her master while
the sea embraced them, and she now shares his grave.
Reports that a number of men--probably steerage passengers--on the
Titanic who tried to rush the lifeboats and preempt the places of women
and children were unceremoniously shot were confirmed by Jack Williams
and William French, able seamen, survivors of the Titanic’s crew.
THE FIRST STAMPEDE.
“When the first of the 56-foot lifeboats were being filled,” explained
Williams, “the first stampede of panic-stricken men occurred. Within a
dozen feet of where I stood I saw fully ten men throw themselves into
the boats already crowded with women and children.
“These men were dragged back and hurled sprawling across the deck. Six
of them, screaming with fear, struggled to their feet and made a second
attempt to rush the boats.
“About ten shots sounded in quick succession. The six cowardly men were
stopped in their tracks, staggered and collapsed one after another. At
least two of them vainly attempted to creep toward the boats again. The
others lay quite still. This scene of bloodshed served its purpose. In
that particular section of the deck there was no further attempt to
violate the ‘women and children first’ rule.”
“Were any of these men from the first or second cabins?” Williams was
asked.
Williams, a medium-sized, stockily-built, blond-haired man of
thirty-six passed the query on to his sailor chum French, who replied:
“It was hard to tell. All of them were so scantily dressed. In the
semi-darkness and prevailing excitement faces left no distinct
impression with me. I should say that most, if not all of them, were
from the steerage.
“Other men passengers who in a general way resembled these same men
were among a score or so who jumped from the upper decks into the boats
occupied by women and children, after the order had been given to lower
boats. These men were not shot. They were tossed by the officers and
crew of the boat into the sea, where most of them perished, as they
deserved to.
“The report that First Officer Murdock and not Captain Smith, shot
himself on the bridge just as the forward section of the Titanic sank
is true. I still have before me the picture of Mr. Murdock standing on
the bridge as the waters surged up about him, placing the pistol to his
head and disappearing as the shot that ended his life rang out.”
EMERGENCY BOATS MADE READY.
“French and I,” said Williams, “stood by as the two emergency
boats--those that are always kept ready for rescue purposes at
sea--were made ready. These boats were only twenty-six feet long, while
the regular lifeboats are about fifty-six feet in length.
“It was in the first of these emergency boats that Mr. Ismay put off.
This boat and emergency boat No. 2 were launched with first class
passengers less than a half hour after the collision.
“A lot had been printed in the papers about the heroism of the
officers, but little has been said of the bravery of the men below the
decks. I was told that seventeen enginemen who were drowned side by
side got down on their knees on the platform of the engine room and
prayed until the water surged up to their necks.
“Then they stood up clasped hands so as to form a circle and died
together. All of these men helped rake the fires out from ten of
the forward boilers after the crash. This delayed the explosion and
undoubtedly permitted the ship to remain afloat nearly an hour longer,
and thus saved hundreds of lives.”
Mrs. John C. Hogeboom, her sister, Miss Cornelia T. Andrews, and their
niece, Miss Gretchen F. Longley, of Hudson, N. Y., were at the home of
Mrs Arthur E. Flack, in East Orange, N. J., where Miss Andrews told how
she and her aunts waited for the fourth lifeboat because there was not
room for the three of them in the first three boats launched.
“And when we finally did get into a boat,” continued Miss Andrews, “we
found that our miserable men companions could not row and had only said
they could because they wanted to save themselves. Finally I had to
take an oar with one of the able seamen in the boat.
“Alongside of us was a sailor, who lighted a cigarette and flung the
match carelessly among us women. Several women in the boat screamed,
fearing they would be set on fire. The sailor replied: ‘We are going to
hell anyway and we might as well be cremated now as then.’”
At this point Mrs. Hogeboom interrupted and said:
BETTER PUT ON LIFE PRESERVERS.
“A little after 12 we heard commotion in the corridor and we made more
inquiries, and they told us we had better put on life preservers. We
had only five minutes to get ready. We put our fur coats right on over
our night dresses and rushed on deck.
“One lifeboat was already full, but there was no panic. The discipline
in a way was good. No one hurried and no one crowded. We waited for the
fourth boat and were slowly lowered seventy-five feet to the water. The
men made no effort to get into the boat. As we pulled away we saw them
all standing in an unbroken line on the deck.
“There they stood--Major Butt, Colonel Astor waving a farewell to
his wife; Mr. Thayer, Mr. Case, Mr. Clarence Moore, Mr. Widener, all
multi-millionaires, and hundreds of other men bravely smiling at us
all. Never have I seen such chivalry and fortitude. Such courage in the
face of fate horrible to contemplate filled us even then with wonder
and admiration.
“Before our boat was lowered they called to some miserable specimens
of humanity and said: ‘Can you row?’ and for the purpose of getting in
they answered ‘Yes.’ But upon pulling out we found we had a Chinese
and an American, neither of whom knew how to row. So there we were in
mid-ocean with one able-bodied seaman.
“Then my niece took one oar and assisted the seaman and some of the
other women rowed on the other side. We then pulled out about a mile as
we feared the suction should the ship go down.
“Scarcely any of the lifeboats were properly manned. Two, filled with
women and children, capsized before our eyes. The collapsible boats
were only temporarily useful. They soon partially filled with water. In
one boat eighteen or twenty persons sat in water above their knees for
six hours.
EIGHT MEN THROWN OVERBOARD.
“Eight men in this boat were overcome, died and were thrown overboard.
Two women were in this boat. One succumbed after a few hours and one
was saved.
“The accident was entirely the result of carelessness and lack of
necessary equipment. There were boats for only one-third of the
passengers--there were no searchlights--the lifeboats were not
supplied with food or safety appliances--there were no lanterns on
the lifeboats--there was no way to raise sails, as we had no one who
understood managing a sailboat.”
Mrs. Hogeboom explained that the new equipment of masts and sails in
the boats was carefully wrapped and bound with twine. The men undertook
to unfasten them, but found it necessary to cut the ropes. They had no
knives, and in their frenzy they went about asking the ill-clad women
if they had knives. The sails were never hoisted.
According to Richard Norris Williams, Jr., his father, C. Duane
Williams, was killed, not drowned, in the Titanic wreck.
The son, who, with his father, was on his way to visit Richard Norris
Williams, his uncle, 8124 St. Martin’s lane, Chestnut Hill, Pa., says
his father was crushed to death by a falling funnel.
His account of the tragedy was given through Mrs. Alexander Williams,
daughter-in-law of Richard Norris Williams.
“Richard told us,” she said, “that he and his father had been watching
the Titanic’s lifeboats lowered and filled with women. The water was up
to their waists and the ship was about at her last.
“Suddenly one of the great funnels fell. Richard sprang aside, trying
to drag his father after him. But Mr. Williams was caught under the
funnel. A moment later the funnel was swept overboard, and the decks
were cleared of water. Mr. Williams, the father, had disappeared.
SWAM THROUGH THE ICE.
“Richard sprang overboard and swam through the ice to a life raft.
He was pulled aboard. There were five other men there and one woman.
Occasionally they were swept off into the sea, even the woman, but they
always managed to climb back. Finally those on the raft were picked up
by a Titanic lifeboat, and later were saved by the Carpathia.”
Young Mr. Williams said he didn’t see J. Bruce Ismay, managing director
of the White Star Line, after the iceberg was struck. He didn’t know
the Wideners or other Philadelphians aboard when he saw them.
Young Mr. Williams and his father were on their way here from Geneva,
Switzerland. The young man was met at the pier in New York when the
Carpathia docked by G. Heide Norris, a cousin. Together they went to
the Waldorf-Astoria, where they remained for a few days.
The Rev. P. M. A. Hoque, a Catholic priest of St. Cesaire, Canada, who
was a passenger on the Carpathia, told of finding the boats containing
the survivors. He said:
“Every woman and child, as if by instinct, put the loops around their
bodies and drew them taut. Some of the women climbed the ladders. To
others chairs were lowered and in these they were lowered and in these
they were lifted aboard.
“Not a word was spoken by any one of the rescued or the rescuers.
Everybody was too be-numbed by horror to speak. It was a time for
action and not words.
“Not a tear dimmed the eyes of one of the hundreds we got on deck. The
women were less excited than the men. Apparently they all had drained
their tear ducts dry, for every eye was red and swollen.”
One of the most interesting accounts of the Titanic disaster which has
come to light is in a letter written on board the Carpathia by Dr.
Alice Leeder, of New York, one of the survivors, after she had been
transferred to the Carpathia in a lifeboat.
The letter is a personal communication addressed to Mrs. Sarah Babcock,
2033 Walnut st., Philadelphia. By the wavering of the handwriting one
can readily realize the state of mind in which it was written.
DR. LEEDER’S LETTER.
In the letter Dr. Leeder said there was no panic on board the Titanic,
and that everyone who had to meet death met it with composure. She
speaks of the generosity and kindness shown by the crew and passengers
of the Carpathia in their treatment of the survivors. Following is the
letter:
“Royal Mail Steamship Carpathia,
Wednesday, April 16.
“My Dear Mrs. Babcock:
“We have been through a most terrible experience--the Titanic and
above a thousand souls sunk on Monday about 3 o’clock in the morning.
Margaret and I are safe, although we have lost everything. One of our
party, also, Mr. Kenyon, was lost. He was such a charming man--so
honorable and good.
“I sat talking to him a little before the accident--and a little later
he was dead. His wife is crushed by the blow. I can say one thing,
nothing could part me from my husband in time of danger.
“After floating about for four hours we were taken on board the
steamer that was bound for Naples--but she is now taking us to New
York.
“It is terrible to see the people who have lost their families and
friends--one lady has lost $15,000 worth of clothing, and no one has
saved anything. Many of the passengers have only their night clothes
with coats over them.
“I shall never forget the sight of that beautiful boat as she went
down, the orchestra playing to the last, the lights burning until they
were extinguished by the waves. It sounds so unreal, like a scene on
the stage. We were hit by an iceberg.
“We were in the midst of a field of ice; towers of ice; fantastic
shapes of ice! It is all photographed on my mind. There was no panic.
Everyone met death with composure--as one said the passengers were a
set of thoroughbreds.
“We are moving slowly toward New York. Everyone on this boat is so
kind to us. Clothing and all the necessaries are at our convenience. I
am attired in my old blue serge, a steamer hat; truth to tell, I am a
sorry looking object to land in New York.
“This is rather a mixed up epistle, but please pardon lack of
clearness of expression. If you want me, some time I will come to
Philadelphia for a day or two in the future.
“With dear love,
“ALICE J. LEEDER.”
Two handsome little boys, tiny waifs of the sea, are one of the
mysteries of the Titanic disaster. These small boys were rescued as the
big liner was foundering. Miss Hays, who has them in charge, said:
“These two beautiful children speak French fluently, and they know what
their first names are, but they do not know their last names. They are
‘Louis,’ four and a half years old, I should say, and ‘Lump,’ a year
younger.
“They were rescued from the Titanic and brought to the Carpathia where
I was taken in another boat. Nobody knows who they are. There was but
one man in the second class cabin who had two children with him, and
that was a Mr. Hoffmann, but no one knows any more about him than that.
Whether these are his children or not, we do not know.
“We in the first cabin used to see them and greatly admired them for
their beauty and sweet ways.
“When they were brought on board the Carpathia there were no New York
people except myself, who had not lost friends, I was the only one in a
position to befriend them, and I went to the committee of passengers we
had on board and offered to take them to my home.
“They gladly gave them to me because it meant that otherwise some
society would grab them and they might be separated and never reunited.
“I think that the boys are French, but perhaps Swiss, French or
Alsatian. I have tried them in Italian, German and English, but they
cannot understand. Louis, the oldest, is brown eyed, with curly brown
hair, very regular teeth and has no scar or mark on his body that would
identify him. Both are well bred. The little fellow is just like his
brother, but a year younger. Both have very long, curling lashes.
“When they got up this morning they asked first thing for a bath, and
at breakfast placed their napkins under their chins themselves. Louis
came aboard wrapped in a blanket that a sailor had given him. The other
boy had a little blue coat with white collar. Louis’s French is not a
patois and he has a very large vocabulary.
“I shall keep them till they are identified and make every effort to
find out who they are. Any one who can help me will win my thanks and
the thanks doubtless of some poor, stricken relatives. It seems almost
impossible that these boys can fail to be identified in this day and
generation.”