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.