As new bulletins kept coming in, every department was spurred to action. Long distance telephone calls were placed to correspondents in New York. But Riley felt that the story was too important to be handled in a routine way.
“We want pictures! Lots of ’em!” he muttered. “I have it! One of the survivors may have been an amateur photographer—there’s always a few on every ship! If any pictures were taken, and we can get ’em we’ll score a scoop!”
A radiogram promptly was dispatched to the rescue ship, Belmonia, with an offer to buy any and all camera films available from the survivors. In a comparatively short while a reply was returned. It read:
“Eight rolls undeveloped film available. Offered at five hundred dollars.”
Riley winced at the price but wired back an immediate acceptance. He then dispatched a photographer and two reporters by plane to New York to be on hand when the vessel docked.
Even with arrangements made for the films, Riley was uneasy.
“Another paper may overbid us,” he fretted. “Then we’ll be sitting high and dry without our pictures.”
“How about meeting the ship out at sea?” suggested Joe Wells.
Riley thought a moment and nodded. “Good idea, if Captain Sorenson will let you aboard. He has a reputation for being a grouch. Think you can swing it?”
“Sure, with a good pilot. How about Dave French?”