After the explosion quiet and order were soon accomplished by
assurances from the stewards. I proceeded to the deck promenade for
observation and saw only that the ship was fast leaning to starboard. I
hurried toward my cabin below for a lifebelt and turned back because of
the difficulty in keeping upright. I struggled to D deck and forward to
the first-class cabin, where I saw a Catholic priest.
I could find no belts and returned again toward E deck and saw a
stewardess struggling to dislodge a belt. I helped her with hers and
secured one for myself. I then rushed to D deck and noticed one woman
perched on the gunwale, watching a lowering lifeboat ten feet away. I
pushed her down and into the boat, then jumped in. The stern of the
lifeboat continued to lower, but the bow stuck fast. A stoker cut the
bow ropes with a hatchet, and we dropped in a vertical position.
A girl whom we had heard sing at a concert was struggling and I caught
her by the ankle and pulled her in. A man I grasped by the shoulders
and I landed him safe. He was the barber of the first-class cabin, and
a more manly man I never met. He showed his courage and his will later
on.
We pushed away hard to avoid the suck, but our boat was fast filling
and we bailed fast with one bucket and the women's hats. The man with
the bucket became exhausted and I relieved him. In a few minutes she
was level full. Then a keg floated up and I pitched it about ten feet
away and followed it. After reaching it I turned to see the fate of our
boat. She had capsized and covered many. Now a young steward, Freeman,
by name, had approached me, clinging to a deck chair. I urged him to
grab the other side of the keg several times. He grew faint, but harsh
speaking roused him. Once he said: "I am going to go," but I ridiculed
this and it gave him strength. By stroking with our legs we succeeded
in reaching a raft.
We were in the water about one hour and a half. At this time I suffered
from violent vomiting. Then followed appalling chills, but by beating
myself I restored my energy and was soon handling an oar. Freeman
collapsed, but recovered after reaching the patrol boat _Brock_. There
were about twenty-three persons on the raft. They worked nobly in
picking five of us up after what seemed an eternity.
The good boat _Brock_ and her splendid officers and men took us aboard.
I went to the engine room and stripped to the skin. Here and in the
room above I cared for men and women as they were rescued. Little
ten-year-old Frank Hook had his left thigh bone fractured. This I
reduced and splinted, and in a short while Frank asked, "Is there a
funny paper on the boat?"
At the scene of the catastrophe the surface of the water seemed dotted
with bodies. Only a few of the lifeboats seemed to be doing any good.
The cries of "My God!" "Save us!" and "Help!" gradually grew weaker
from all sides and finally a low weeping, wailing, inarticulate sound,
mingled with coughing and gurgling, made me heartsick. I saw many
men die. Some appeared to be sleepy and worn out just before they
went down, others grew gradually blue and an air of hunger gave their
features a sardonic smile.
There was no suction when the ship settled. She went down steadily and
at the best possible angle. The lifeboats were not in order and they
were not manned. Most of the people rushed to the upper decks.
I did not hear a second explosion. There is no more horrible or
pitiable sight possible than the sight of the faces of mothers and
babies and girls here in the morgues.
Weighing all the facts soberly convinces me that it was only through
the mercy of God that any one was saved. I sailed from America that
I might offer my services as a surgeon. I have visited the Valley of
Death and am heartsick.