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.”
CHAPTER XIII.
LIFEBOATS BUNGLINGLY HANDLED.
Widow of College Founder Scores Management for Lack of Drill—First Thought Damage was Slight—Aid May Have Been Near—No Oil in Life Lamps—Hudson, N. Y., Woman’s Pathetic Recital—A. A. Dick, of New York, Talks.
The urgent need of lifeboat drills on the trans-Atlantic liners was touched upon by Mrs. William R. Bucknell, widow of the founder of Bucknell University, and herself one of the survivors of the disaster, in the course of a graphic account of the wreck of the Titanic given by her at the home of her son-in-law, Samuel P. Wetherill, Jr., at 23d and Spruce sts., Philadelphia.
Mrs. Bucknell said that not only were the passengers on the Titanic absolutely unfamiliar with the life saving equipment of the vessel, but that the equipment was inadequate and even faulty.
The lifeboats were bunglingly fastened to their davits, she said, and many of the collapsibles were too stiff to open and thus useless for service.
To her the greatest crime was the “unpreparedness” of the lifeboat equipment. Mrs. Bucknell declared one of the boats was launched with the plug out of the bottom, and afterwards sank, the occupants fortunately being rescued by the Titanic’s fifth officer.
The lifeboat in which she was placed by Captain Smith, she declared, was manned only by a steward and three ordinary seamen. And none of the men, she declared, knew how to row.
Mrs. Bucknell also said that she had not seen a lifeboat drill while she was aboard the Titanic, and diligent inquiry among those rescued, after they were safely aboard the Carpathia, failed to develop any knowledge on their part of such drills ever having been held.
Mrs. Bucknell said that the only provisions aboard her lifeboat was a basket full of bread. She saw no water, although she said that two small casks beneath one of the seats may have contained water.
“The lifeboats were so bunglingly fastened to the davits in the first place that it was hard work to get them free,” said Mrs. Bucknell.
“Half the collapsible boats were so stiff that they could not be opened and were useless. Those that were not already opened and ready for use were unavailable, also, for none on board seemed to understand how they worked. Hundreds more could have been saved if these collapsible boats had worked properly.