NOT LIKE BOURGOGNE DISASTER.
Lone Woman Survivor Makes Comparison--Does Not Like “Law of the
Sea”--Families First, It Should Be, She Says--Husband Greeted Like the
Hero He Was--Privations and Horror Hasten Death.
Whenever men speak of tragedies of the sea, the story of La Bourgogne,
the French Line steamship, which was sunk in collision with the British
ship Cormartyshire, is always recalled. The conduct of the French
sailors upon that occasion is held up as a shining example of what the
behavior of a crew should not be. It even appears more reprehensible in
the light of comparison with the heroism and noble sacrifices of the
male passengers and crew who went down with the Titanic.
There were 584 persons drowned in the wreck, and only one woman was
saved. She was saved by her husband, who seems to have been the only
man in all that great company who showed his manhood in the face of
that overwhelming disaster.
This hero was Adrien Lacasse, a young French teacher, of Plainfield, N.
J. He died three years ago in New York, pneumonia being given as the
immediate cause of death. His friends know that the horrors through
which he had gone so weakened his constitution that he could not
withstand the illness.
Mrs. Victoire Lacasse is living quietly in this city with her son
Robert, who was born after the disaster.
Time has not erased the lines left by the tragedy in her face, and only
a glance at that sad, patient face tells the story of her suffering.
Since the news of the wreck of the Titanic came she has not dared to
remain alone with her thoughts, but has always had some friend near
her when it was possible, and when it was not has found comfort in
talking to them over the telephone.
Mrs. Lacasse has written the story of the Bourgogne. She has taken
occasion in this story to protest against the “rule of the sea” which
provides for “women and children first.”
On the contrary, she believes that it should be “families first,” and
says that she would rather have gone down with her husband than have
been saved without him. Mrs. Lacasse’s story follows:
I have read only the headlines about the wreck of the Titanic. That is
all that I had to read. The rest I know. I can see all the things that
happened aboard the big funeral ship as vividly as if I had been aboard
her when she collided head-on with the iceberg.
WENT DOWN OFF SABLE ISLAND.
I can even picture the ocean, the day and all the surroundings,
because, as many will recall, it was just off Sable Island that La
Bourgogne went to her grave on July 4, 1898, the same day that all
America was rejoicing over its victory in the Spanish-American War.
I have the most heartfelt sympathy for the bereaved, unfortunate
survivors of this last terrible wreck. It has always seemed to me a
great mistake to compel women and children to be saved first. How much
better it would be to save entire families than to have so many widows
and children.
I know that I should have preferred going down with my husband to being
saved without him. The women and children from the Titanic, who have
just passed through this ordeal of being separated from their husbands
and fathers, stepping into little boats and looking back on their loved
ones for the last time, must feel just as I do.
Why should the rule of the sea supersede the marriage vow, “until death
do us part.”
The story of La Bourgogne has been told and retold so often, and there
have been so many different versions of the wreck, that I do not
believe that the public understands the truth yet. For one thing, I
think too much stress has been laid upon the alleged brutality of the
crew.
While it is undoubtedly true that they were untrained and
undisciplined, and were not at their proper stations, I don’t believe
that they fought back the women and children with their knives. It was
the men in the steerage who did these things.
We boarded La Bourgogne on Saturday, July 2, from New York. The
steamship was bound for Havre. My husband, who, I may mention, had
served ten years in the French navy, wanted to spend the summer months
with his parents.
The first two days we had beautiful weather. Sunday night I could not
sleep, recalling the stories of the passengers as I did. At one o’clock
on Monday morning I awakened my husband, telling him that I heard a
foghorn.
THERE WAS NOTHING TO FEAR.
He laughed and tried to comfort me by saying that we had a good boat
and that Captain Deloncle was a good captain and there was nothing to
fear. I insisted and told him that I would not go to sleep unless he
went up on deck to make certain that everything was all right.
My husband dressed himself and went up on deck. He did not come down
to our cabin again until half-past four and then he threw himself, all
dressed, upon the bed. I called to him again that I heard the foghorn,
which had been blowing all that time. He went to the port hole to look
out.
He had hardly done so when the crash came and he was thrown violently
on his back. He was on his feet in a minute, and half dragged me out of
bed. Then he put a life preserver on me and another on himself.
Then we both went on deck, my husband taking several other life
preservers with him and leaving them on the deck for others. Some men
from the steerage saw us and evidently thought that we had the best
life preservers, because they came at us with their knives. I screamed
and they went away.
Meanwhile some sailors and passengers were trying to launch boats on
the other side of the ship. My husband tried to help them, but there
was no use. The ship was listing too much.
I cannot describe much of what happened on board after this, as my
husband cried to me to close my eyes if I would keep my senses. I do
remember hearing the captain shouting orders, but I don’t believe they
were being obeyed. We ran to the stern and climbed aboard a raft.
Immediately after this the raft slipped from under us into the water
and left us hanging on the rail of the steamer. Then we both fell into
the water backwards. My husband swam to the raft with me. He climbed on
it first and then dragged me up after him.
EVERYONE FIGHTING EVERYONE ELSE.
We were the first people on the raft, but it wasn’t long before we were
surrounded by the men from the boats. Everyone was fighting everyone
else to get on the raft and to keep the others from getting on.
It was more horrible than the most realistic nightmare. About twenty
men had managed to get on our raft, which was built to hold ten.
The buoys of the raft were already under water and the raft was nearly
sinking. An old man swam to us. The men shouted to push him off if he
tried to get on, but my husband wouldn’t do it and pulled him on board.
He was a Mr. Achard, of Baltimore, and had lost his wife, his son and
his daughter in the wreck.
We were drifting helplessly around, no one knowing what to do, when my
husband said that there must be a pair of oars on the raft. He felt
underneath and found a pair, so the men were able to row out of danger.
The ship first went down up to the stern, but righted up. Then the
bow arose above the water almost like a porpoise. The ship went slowly
down. We saw the captain on his bridge.
We saw the water come up and up until it almost reached him. Then we
heard a pistol shot. Many people thought that he had shot himself, but
it was simply his last call for help. He went down with his boat.
It had been just forty minutes after the collision that La Bourgogne
took her final dive. Then suddenly men, women and children, some of
them still alive, were spouted out like sticks in a boiling volume.
Those poor creatures, those who had the strength, would swim to the
rafts and beg to be taken aboard, and, being denied, turn and disappear
into the ocean.
Presently the sun broke through the heavy fog and the great curtain
lifted. The surface of the ocean, which had been disturbed by great
swells, became as calm as a millpond. It was a beautiful summer’s
day. There was nothing to indicate that a great tragedy had just been
enacted on these waters.
NEARLY AN HOUR BEFORE RELIEF CAME.
Our men pulled at the oars and after some hours we came in sight of
the Cromartyshire. There were two boats from La Bourgogne tied to her
stern, but it was nearly an hour before they sent a boat for us. When
they did I would not get into one and they towed us to the side, where
I was helped aboard.
When wireless telegraphy was discovered I thought that great wrecks
would be impossible, but the fate of the Titanic has shown us
differently. We must rely upon lifeboats and life preservers. I think
every person should learn how to put on a life preserver when he goes
on board a vessel. He can not learn when the ship starts to sink. My
husband said that nearly all could have been saved from La Bourgogne if
they had put on life belts and kept cool.
Adrien Lacasse was greeted as a returning hero. On his trip through
Canada to this city, he was besieged by people who wanted to see him
and shake hands with him. He pulled down the shade of the window in his
car to avoid notoriety. The crowds shook hands with an American woman,
who sat behind him, believing that she was Mrs. Lacasse.
Mothers named their babies after him, and from all corners of the earth
came letters of praise. He was a hero because he kept cool, and was the
only man who did. The heroes of the Titanic can not be counted. They
all kept their heads, so far as is known, but their only reward was the
knowledge that they had not been cowards in the face of death.
Standing in a circle in the engine room of the Titanic as she went
down, with hands clasping those of their comrades and all praying, the
gallant thirty-three engine men of the wounded vessel met their death.
The tragic story of their bravery in the face of what they must have
known was certain death was told by Thomas Hardy, chief steward of the
Titanic, as he left for England, a passenger on board the Red Star Line
steamship Lapland.
SCENE THAT HARDY WITNESSED.
His voice breaking with emotion, Hardy told the story of the scene that
he and other stewards witnessed from the galleries overlooking the
engine room.
“When the order that every man should take his post, as the vessel was
sinking, was sent through the Titanic,” said Hardy, “there were eleven
men on duty in the hold.
“The twenty others, without the least hesitancy, came hurrying to their
posts beside the engines and dynamos. They must have known as well as
Captain Smith that the Titanic was going down, for when they arrived in
the engine room the water was rising over the floor. There was nothing
for them to do but to keep the dynamos running.
“Not one of them moved to quit their posts and not one would have dared
to, even they had been willing, in the face of the stern men who had
chosen to die there. Yet they could be of no use, for the Titanic was
going down then.
“The water was rising about them when I looked down from a gallery. I
saw the little circle of Chief Engineer Bell and sixteen of his men
standing there in the water with their lips moving in prayer. I pray
that I may never see the like of it again; it was real heroism.”
Perhaps one of the clearest stories of the disaster was told by Albert
Smith, steward of the Titanic. Smith was one of the number of six
members of the crew of the sunken liner who manned boat No. 11, which
carried fifty women and no men other than the half dozen necessary to
row it to safety.
“From the time that the first boat pushed off,” he said, “until ten
minutes before the Titanic sank, the band was playing. They played
light music, waltzes and popular airs at first.
“The last thing they played was ‘Nearer, My God, to Thee.’ The voices
of the men on board joining in the singing came perfectly clear over
the water. It was so horrible it was unbelievable. You kept thinking
you would wake up.
“I saw First Officer Murdock, of the Titanic, shoot himself. It was
Murdock who was on the bridge when the ship struck.
DID NOT THINK IT SERIOUS.
“I was in my bunk when the crash came. It was not much of a shock. Of
course, I knew something had happened, but it never dawned on me there
was anything serious.
“I threw on a few clothes, hurriedly, though according to drill, and
went to boat No. 11, which was my place in case of emergency. I stood
there until one of the officers came by and said there was no danger
and that the men might return to their bunks. I was partly undressed
again when the second call came.
“I went back to my post at No. 11 and we prepared to lower the small
boats. We had made 565 miles during the day and the Titanic was running
at the rate of twenty-three knots an hour when she struck. My boat
station was on the promenade deck. I want to say right here that there
was no confusion or panic while the boats were being filled.
“As a matter of fact, there was no particular rush for the boats,
because it did not enter the heads of any at first that the Titanic
could actually sink.
“Many believed it was safer to stay on board the big liner, even
wounded as she was, than to trust themselves to the boats. When we had
filled our boat we lowered. We had about fifty women with us, which
crowded our small craft, so that we were only able to man our oars very
slowly and clumsily. In consequence of this we were not more than a
half mile from the Titanic when she sunk.
“We saw her plainly all the time, and whatever anybody else may say,
believe me, her lights were gleaming until about five minutes before
she went down. The night was clear and cold and calm and so bright that
the many stars were reflected in the sea.
“We put off into a field of small ice. The berg we had struck was
plainly visible. The Titanic struck a large, jagged, submerged portion
of the berg, on the port side; as she slowly slid back and away from
the mountain of ice it passed her on the starboard side and went slowly
on its way.
IT WAS APPALLING.
“As I say, we rowed slowly because of our heavy cargo. The Titanic
settled slowly at first. When she got going, though, she went rapidly.
It was appalling. I do not think any of us really believed until her
final lurch that she would actually sink.
“She started to go down bow first. She dove like that until her
propeller was out of water. Everybody rushed to the stern of the boat.
You could see them climbing and clinging to the higher places. Suddenly
the Titanic gave a frightful lurch. Hundreds of those on the stern were
flung into the air.
“They looked like a swarm of bees; little and black. Then the Titanic
broke, snapped in the middle and the boilers blew up and the engines
dropped out with a frightful noise. She sank practically in two pieces,
broken directly in half. There was little or no swirl or intake. I do
not think any of the boats were drawn down.
“Murdock stood on the promenade deck when the last boat pushed off.
Captain Smith had taken charge of the bridge. Murdock put a pistol to
his right temple and fired. I saw him do it. And I saw him drop.
“Now I have just one dollar and twenty-five cents left tied up in a
corner of my handkerchief. I was going to take that to cable one word.
It will cost me one dollar to cable “Safe,” but I have a mother who is
walking the streets of London waiting for that one word.”
The survivors of the Titanic are still paying a tribute without
precedent to the bravery of the men and women of the wrecked liner,
steerage passenger, stoker and millionaire.
Major Archibald Butt, U. S. A., military aide to President Taft, met
his death in a manner that fully justified the President’s estimation
of him as expressed in the eulogy given out at the White House, in
which the President tenderly referred to his late aide as a man “gentle
and considerate,” and as one who was “every inch a soldier.”
MAJOR BUTT AN OFFICER OF THE TITANIC.
From the moment that Captain Smith let it be known to his officers and
a few of the men passengers that the Titanic was doomed, Major Butt was
an officer of the Titanic.
He was here and there and everywhere, giving words of encouragement to
weeping women and children, and uttering, when necessary, commands to
keep weak-kneed men from giving in and rendering the awful situation
even more terrible.
That this was the manner in which Major Butt met death is certain.
Captain Charles E. Crain, of the Twenty-seventh United States Infantry,
was a passenger on the Carpathia, and when he learned that Major Butt
was among the dead, he made it his duty to get the true tale of his
comrade’s death.
“Naturally,” said Captain Crain, “I was deeply concerned in the fate of
Major Butt, for he was not only a fellow-officer of the army; but also
a personal friend of many years’ standing.
“I questioned those of the survivors who were in a condition to talk,
and from them I learned that Butt, when the Titanic struck, took his
position with the officers and from the moment that the order to man
the lifeboats was given until the last one was dropped into the sea, he
aided in the maintenance of discipline and the placing of the women and
children in the boats.
“Butt, I was told, was as cool as the iceberg that had doomed the ship,
and not once did he lose control of himself. In the presence of death
he was the same gallant, courteous officer that the American people had
learned to know so well as a result of his constant attendance upon
President Taft.
“There was never any chance of Butt getting into any of those
lifeboats. He knew his time was at hand, and he was ready to meet it as
a man should, and I and all of the others who cherish his memory are
glad that he faced the situation that way, which was the only possible
way a man of his calibre could face it.”
“This is a man’s game, and I will play it to the end,” was the word
that Benjamin Guggenheim, the millionaire smelter magnate, sent to his
wife from the ill-fated Titanic.
NO CHANCE OF ESCAPING.
The message was delivered to the stricken widow by John Johnson, the
room steward, to whom it was given. Guggenheim, Johnson said, realized
almost from the beginning that there was no chance of escaping. He sent
for Johnson, who he knew was an expert swimmer, and for his secretary,
and asked them if they should be saved to get word to Mrs. Guggenheim.
“Tell her, Johnson,” the steward relates, “that I played the game
straight and that no woman was left on board this ship because Benjamin
Guggenheim was a coward. Tell her that my last thoughts were of her and
the girls.”
Guggenheim, according to Johnson, lit a cigar and sauntered up to the
boat deck to help load the lifeboats. He afterward returned to the main
deck and was engulfed with the ship.
“Mr. Guggenheim was one of my charges,” said the steward anew. “He had
his secretary with him. His name was Giglio, I believe, an Armenian,
about twenty-four years old. Both died like men.
“When the crash came I awakened them and told them to get dressed. A
few minutes later I went into their rooms and helped them to get ready.
I put a life preserver on Mr. Guggenheim. He said it hurt him in the
back. There was plenty of time and I took it off, adjusted it, and then
put it on him again. It was all right this time.
“They wanted to get out on deck with only a few clothes on, but I
pulled a heavy sweater over Mr. Guggenheim’s lifebelt, and then they
both went out.
“They stayed together and I could see what they were doing. They were
going from one lifeboat to another helping the women and children.
Mr. Guggenheim would shout out, ‘Women first,’ and he was of great
assistance to the officers.
THERE WAS GREAT EXCITEMENT.
“Things weren’t so bad at first, but when I saw Mr. Guggenheim about
three-quarters of an hour after the crash there was great excitement.
What surprised me was that both Mr. Guggenheim and his secretary were
dressed in their evening clothes. They had deliberately taken off their
sweaters, and as nearly as I can remember they wore no lifebelts at all.
“‘What’s that for?’ I asked.
“‘We’ve dressed up in our best,’ replied Mr. Guggenheim, and are
prepared to go down like gentlemen.’ It was then he told me about the
message to his wife and that is what I have come here for.
“Well, shortly after the last few boats were lowered and I was ordered
by the deck officer to man an oar, I waved good-bye to Mr. Guggenheim,
and that was the last I saw of him and his secretary.”
Taking refuge on the bridge of the ill-fated Titanic, two little
children remained by the side of Captain Smith until that portion of
the big ship had been swept by water. Survivors of the crew who went
down with the Titanic, but were saved by clinging to an overturned
lifeboat, told of their gallant commander’s effort to save the life of
one of the children. He died a sailor’s death, and the little girl who
had intrusted her life to his care died with him.
“He held the little girl under one arm,” said James McGann, a fireman,
“as he jumped into the sea and endeavored to reach the nearest lifeboat
with the child. I took the other child into my arms as I was swept from
the bridge deck. When I plunged into the cold water I was compelled to
release my hold on the child, and I am satisfied that the same thing
happened to Captain Smith.
“I had gone to the bridge deck to assist in lowering a collapsible
boat. The water was then coming over the bridge, and we were unable
to launch the boat properly. It was overturned and was used as a life
raft, some thirty or more of us, mostly firemen, clinging to it.
Captain Smith looked as though he was trying to keep back the tears as
he thought of the doomed ship.
EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF.
“He turned to the men lowering the boat and shouted: ‘Well, boys, it’s
every man for himself.’ He then took one of the children standing by
him on the bridge and jumped into the sea. He endeavored to reach
the overturned boat, but did not succeed. That was the last I saw of
Captain Smith.”
Other graphic accounts of the final plunge of the Titanic were related
by two Englishmen, survivors by the merest chance. One of them
struggled for hours to hold himself afloat on an overturned collapsible
lifeboat, to one end of which John B. Thayer, Jr., of Philadelphia,
whose father perished, hung until rescued.
The men give their names as A. H. Barkworth, justice of the peace of
East Riding, Yorkshire, England, and W. J. Mellors, of Christ Church
Terrace, Chelsea, London. The latter, a young man, had started for this
country with his savings to seek his fortune, and lost all but his life.
Mellors says Captain Smith, of the Titanic, did not commit suicide. The
captain jumped from the bridge, Mellors declares, and he heard him say
to his officers and crew: “You have done your duty, boys. Now every man
for himself.”
Mellors and Barkworth, both declare there were three distinct
explosions before the Titanic broke in two, and bow section first, and
stern part last, settled with her human cargo into the sea.
Her four whistles kept up a deafening blast until the explosions,
declare the men. The death cries from the shrill throats of the
blatant steam screechers beside the smokestacks so rent the air that
conversation among the passengers was possible only when one yelled
into the ear of a fellow unfortunate.
“I did not know the Thayer family well,” declared Mr. Barkworth, “but I
had met young Thayer, a clean-cut chap, and his father on the trip. I
did not see Mr. Thayer throw his son from the ship, but the lad and I
struggled in the water for several hours endeavoring to hold afloat by
grabbing to the sides and end of an overturned lifeboat.
KEPT AFLOAT BY FUR OVERCOAT.
“I consider my fur overcoat helped to keep me afloat. I had a life
preserver under it, under my arms, but it would not have held me up so
well out of the water but for the coat. The fur of the coat seemed not
to get wet through and retained a certain amount of air that added to
buoyancy. I shall never part with it.
“The testimony of J. Bruce Ismay, managing director of the White Star
Line, that he had not heard explosions before the Titanic settled,
indicates that he must have gotten some distance from her in his
lifeboat.
“There were three distinct explosions and the ship broke in the centre.
The bow settled headlong first and the stern last. I was looking toward
her from the raft to which young Thayer and I had clung.
“I thought I was doomed to go down with the rest. I stood on the deck,
awaiting my fate, fearing to jump from the ship. Then came a grinding
noise, followed by two others, and I was hurled into the deep. Great
waves engulfed me, but I was not drawn toward the ship, so that I
believe there was little suction. I swam about for more than one hour
before I was picked up by a boat.”
Confirming the statements made by J. Bruce Ismay, managing director of
the White Star Line, before the Senatorial Investigating Committee in
New York, William E. Carter, of Philadelphia, who was saved, together
with his wife and two children, declared that J. Bruce Ismay had not
acted like a coward but instead had aided in placing women and children
in the boats and had gotten into the last one himself only after he had
failed to find any more women after calling for several minutes.
Mr. Carter related his experience on the Titanic from the time the ship
struck the mountain of ice until he left the ill-fated vessel on the
last lifeboat a short time before she went to her doom.
UNJUST TO MR. ISMAY.
Mr. Carter declared that the statements which have been made by many
persons regarding Mr. Ismay’s conduct were an injustice to him and
added that the head of the White Star Line felt extremely sad following
the collision and the subsequent sinking of the world’s largest steamer.
He said that while the lifeboat containing himself and Ismay was moving
away from the Titanic, Ismay rowed with two seamen and himself until
they sighted the Carpathia.
One of the most interesting statements made by Mr. Carter was that a
short time before he left the ship he spoke to Harry E. Widener and
advised him to get into one of the boats if he could. Mr. Widener
replied: “I think I’ll stick to the big ship, Billy, and take a chance.”
Relating his experiences, Mr. Carter said: “I was in the smoking
room for several hours prior to the collision with Major Archie
Butt, Colonel Gracie, Harry Widener, Mr. Thayer, Clarence Moore, of
Washington; William Dulles and several other men.
“At exactly seventeen minutes to 12 o’clock we felt a jar and left the
room to see what the trouble was outside. We were told that the ship
had struck an iceberg. Many of the men were in the card room, and after
learning what had happened returned to their games.
“The officers informed us that the accident was not a serious one, and
there was little excitement at the time. However, I went to the lower
deck, where Mrs. Carter and my two children were sleeping. I awoke my
wife and told her what had occurred and advised her to dress and take
the children to the deck.
“I then returned to the upper deck and found that the crew were
lowering lifeboats containing women and children. When Mrs. Carter and
the children came up I had them placed in one of the boats, which also
contained Mrs. Astor, Mrs. Widener, Mrs. Thayer and several other women.
WATER POURING INTO THE SHIP.
“I believed at the time that they would all return to the steamer in
a short time, feeling certain that there was no danger. A few minutes
later, however, I learned that water was pouring into the ship and that
she was in a serious condition. I saw Harry Widener and walked to where
he was standing on the port side of the Titanic. An order had been
given before the boats were launched to put on lifebelts, and I had
adjusted one around myself.
“I said to Mr. Widener, ‘Come on, Harry, let us go to the starboard
side and see if there is any chance to get in one of the boats.’
He replied, ‘I think I’ll stick to the big ship, Billy, and take a
chance.’ I left him there and went to the starboard side of A deck.
“There I saw Mr. Ismay and several officers filling the boats with
women. I aided them in the work, and as the last boat was being filled
we looked around for more women.
“The women that were in the boat were from the steerage with their
children. I guess there were about 40 of them. Mr. Ismay and myself and
several of the officers walked up and down the deck crying, ‘Are there
any more women here?’ We called for several minutes and got no answer.
“One of the officers then declared that if we wanted to we could
get into the boat if we took the place of seamen. He gave us this
preference because we were among the first-class passengers.
“Mr Ismay called again and after we got no reply we got into the
lifeboat. We took the oars and rowed with the two seamen. We were about
a mile away from the Titanic when she went down. It seemed to me that
it was less than a half hour.
“All the women were clad in thin clothes while I was in my evening
clothes, withtout a hat, and had on a pair of slippers. The night was a
dark one despite the fact that the stars were out. I looked around just
as the Titanic went down, being attracted by the explosions. Mr. Ismay
did not turn and look but instead was very quiet, pulling on the oars.
THE CARPATHIA SIGHTED.
“I don’t know how long we were in the boat. It seemed to be several
hours before we sighted the Carpathia. One of the women saw the steamer
with her lights standing out in the darkness. We then started toward
her. All this time I was fearing for my family, not knowing how they
fared after leaving the Titanic in the lifeboat.
“We reached the side of the Carpathia before dawn and were taken aboard
and given food and warmed. I do not know what became of Mr. Ismay, for
I saw my wife and children and hurried toward them. I can tell you I
was happy at that moment.
“On board the Carpathia we were taken care of excellently and treated
fine by the officers and passengers. As we were among the first taken
aboard we were given a little room. My wife and little girl slept in
the bunk, while I slept on the floor. It was a terrible experience and
one I never want to go through again.
“It was my intention, if I could not get into one of the boats, to leap
from the hurricane deck and swim to one of the boats.
“During the trip across I did not see any lifeboat drills, but this
may have been due to the fact that the members of the crew were new to
the boat and the fact that the officers thought her perfectly safe. I
believe that many more could have been saved if there had been more
boats.
“The men seemed to think that there was no immediate danger, and I
myself did not know whether to get into the boat with Mr. Ismay or not
until he said, ‘Come on, you might as well get aboard.’
“I desire to correct what has been said about him. He was perfectly
cool and collected and aided a great deal in keeping the women from
the steerage quiet. I will probably be called before the Senatorial
investigating committee, and I can only say that Mr. Ismay only left
the boat after he saw there were no more women on the deck.
“He called and so did I and we found none. I heard no shooting while I
was on the Titanic, but do not know what happened after I left on the
last boat.”
“Billy” Carter, his ten-year-old son, told of his experience after he
was awakened by his mother and dressed.
“Mamma woke me just after it happened,” he said “and papa hurried
to our rooms. While mamma and sister were dressing I got dressed as
quickly as I could. She told me to be a brave boy, and we all went to
the upper deck.
“All the women were on one side and the men on the other. The officers
held revolvers in their hands. We were placed in one of the boats and
rowed around for an awful long time until everybody began to worry and
think we would not be picked up. Mamma helped to row our boat, and in
the morning we sighted the big ship Carpathia and were taken on board.
I felt cold, but we soon got warm and got something to eat. Then a
short time later papa came on board.”