Sinking of the "Titanic"

by Jay Henry Mowbray

Already he was knitting his brows over the problem of handling the messages which were coming in batches from the purser’s office. The haste with which these Marconigrams were prepared by their senders was needless, in view of the wait of two days and two nights for a long connection. “Safe” was the word with which most of the messages began; then, in many of them, came the words “—— missing.”

Dishevelled women, who the night before could have drawn thousands from husbands’ letters of credit or from Titanic’s safe, stood penniless before the Carpathia’s purser, asking that their messages be forwarded—collect. Their messages were taken with the rest.

HOPE REVIVED BY SIGHT OF CATTLE BOAT.

The Californian, a cattle ship, came near us, and though it gave no sign of having any of the Titanic’s refugees on board, its presence in the vicinity gave hope to many women who were encouraged in the belief that the Californian might have picked up their loved ones.

Captain Rostrom’s decision to abandon the Mediterranean course, begun the Thursday before, and to return to an American port, was soon known to the passengers. At first it was reported that Halifax or Boston would be the destination, but at noon the notice of the intended arrival at New York three days later was posted. At that time the Carpathia, at an increase over her usual moderate speed, was westward bound and her passengers were deferring their hopes of Gibraltar, Naples and Trieste, and were sharing their rooms with the newcomers. Few men of the Carpathia’s passenger list slept in a bed in any of the nights that followed. They had the men of the Titanic lay in chairs on deck, on dining tables or smoking-room couches, or on the floors of the rooms which held their hand baggage and their curtained-off guests. The captain was the first to vacate his room, which was used as a hospital.

In the first cabin library, women of wealth and refinement mingled their grief and asked eagerly for news of the possible arrival of a belated boat, or a message from some other steamer telling of the safety of their husbands. Mrs. Henry B. Harris, wife of a New York theatrical manager, checked her tears long enough to beg that some message of hope be sent to her father-in-law. Mrs. Ella Thor, Miss Marie Young, Mrs. Emil Taussig and her daughter, Ruth; Mrs. Martin Rothschild, Mrs. William Augustus Spencer, Mrs. J. Stuart White and Mrs. Walter M. Clark were a few of those who lay back, exhausted, on the leather cushions and told in shuttering sentences of their experiences.

PROUD OF HER HUSBAND’S OARSMANSHIP.

Mrs. John Jacob Astor and the Countess of Rothes had been taken to staterooms soon after their arrival on shipboard. Those who talked with Mrs. Astor said she spoke often of her husband’s ability as an oarsman and said he could save himself if he had a chance. That he could have had such a chance, she seemed hardly to hope.

To another stateroom a tall, dark man had been conducted, his head bowed, anguish in his face. He was Bruce Ismay, head of the International Mercantile Marine and chief owner of the Titanic and her sister ship, the Olympic. He has made the maiden voyage on each of his company’s great ships. He remained in his room in a physician’s care during the voyage back to New York. Captain Rostrom, his only caller, was not admitted to see him until Tuesday evening.

Before noon, at the captain’s request, the first cabin passengers of the Titanic gathered in the saloon, and the passengers of other classes in corresponding places on the rescue ship. Then the collecting of names was begun by the purser and the stewards. A second table was served in both cabins for the new guests, and the Carpathia’s second cabin, being better fitted than its first, the second class arrivals had to be sent to the steerage.