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: