WRITER GOES DOWN WITH THE SHIP.
Mrs. May Futrelle, whose husband, Jacques Futrelle, the writer, went down with the ship, was met here by her daughter, Miss Virginia Futrelle, who was brought to New York from the Convent of Notre Dame in Baltimore.
Miss Futrelle had been told that her father had been picked up by another steamer. Mrs. Charles Copeland, of Boston, a sister of the writer, who also met Mrs. Futrelle, was under the same impression.
“I am so happy that father is safe, too,” declared Miss Futrelle, as her mother clasped her in her arms. It was some time before Mrs. Futrelle could compose herself.
“Where is Jack?” Miss Copeland asked.
Mrs. Futrelle, afraid to let her daughter know the truth, said: “Oh! he is on another ship.”
Mrs. Copeland guessed the truth and became hysterical. Then the writer’s daughter broke down.
“Jack died like a hero,” Mrs. Futrelle said, when the party became composed. “He was in the smoking-room when the crash came—the noise of the smash was terrific—and I was going to bed. I was hurled from my feet by the impact. I hardly found myself when Jack came rushing into the stateroom.
“The boat is going down, get dressed at once!” he shouted. When we reached the deck everything was in the wildest confusion. The screams of women and the shrill orders of the officers were drowned intermittently by the tremendous vibrations of the Titanic’s bass foghorn.
“The behavior of the men was magnificent. They stood back without murmuring and urged the women and children into the lifeboats. A few cowards tried to scramble into the boats, but they were quickly thrown back by the others. Let me say now that the only men who were saved were those who sneaked into the lifeboats or were picked up after the Titanic sank.
“I did not want to leave Jack, but he assured me that there were boats enough for all and that he would be rescued later.