That green light, many of the survivors say, was to the shipwrecked hundreds as the pillar of fire by night. Long after the ship had disappeared, and while confusing false lights danced about the boats, the green lantern kept them together on the course which led them to the Carpathia.
ECHOING SPLASH OF CHILLY WATERS.
As the end of the Titanic became manifestly but a matter of moments, the oarsmen pulled their boats away, and the chilling waters began to echo splash after splash as the passengers and sailors in life preservers leaped over and started swimming away to escape the expected suction.
Only the hardiest of constitutions could endure for more than a few moments such a numbing bath. The first vigorous strokes gave way to the heart-breaking cries of “Help! Help!” and stiffened forms were seen floating, the faces relaxed in death.
Revolver shots were heard in the ship’s last moments. The first report spread among the boats was that Captain Smith had ended his life with a bullet. Then it was said that a mate had shot a steward who tried to push his way upon a boat against orders. None of these tales has been verified, and many of the crew say the captain, without a preserver, leaped in at the last and went down, refusing a cook’s offered aid.
The last of the boats, a collapsible, was launched too late to get away, and was overturned by the ship’s sinking. Some of those in it—all, say some witnesses—found safety on a raft or were picked up by lifeboats.
In the Marconi tower, almost to the last, the loud click of the sending instrument was heard over the waters. Who was receiving the message, those in the boats did not know, and they would least of all have supposed that a Mediterranean ship in the distant South Atlantic track would be their rescuer.
As the screams in the water multiplied, another sound was heard, strong and clear at first, then fainter in the distance. It was the melody of the hymn “Nearer, My God, to Thee,” played by the string orchestra in the dining saloon. Some of those on the water started to sing the words, but grew silent as they realized that for the men who played the music was a sacrament soon to be consummated by death. The serene strains of the hymn and the frantic cries of the dying blended in a symphony of sorrow.
BOATS FOLLOW THE GREEN LIGHT.
Led by the green light, under the light of the stars, the boats drew away, and the bow, then the quarter, then the stacks and at last the stern of the marvel-ship of a few days before passed beneath the waters. The great force of the ship’s sinking was unaided by any violence of the elements, and the suction, into so great as had been feared, rocked but mildly the group of boats now a quarter of a mile distant from it.