The band, which had been playing incessantly in the main saloon, moved out to the open deck and the strains of music rose above the shouts of the officers and the cries of the passengers. By 1 o’clock even those who knew nothing of seamanship began to realize by the angle at which the giant liner careened that she was in grave danger. By this time more than half of the life boats had been sent away and they formed a ring in the darkness about the great vessel.
Excitement began to run high. Major A. W. Butt, U. S. A., military aide to President Taft; William T. Stead, the famous journalist; Colonel Aster, and others of the passengers volunteered their services to Captain Smith. They helped the officers hold back other male passengers who by this time had become thoroughly frightened.
As one of the lifeboats was being swung over the ship’s side, a frantic mother who had been separated from her eight-year-old boy, cried out hysterically. Colonel Astor was standing by the boat, assisting the officers. The little boy, in fright and despair, stretched out his arms appealingly to his mother, but the officer in command of the boat said that it would not be safe for another to enter.
Colonel Astor, seeing a girl’s hat lying upon the deck, stealthily placed it upon the boy’s head. Lifting up the child, he called out: “Surely you will not leave a little girl behind.” The ruse worked and the child was taken on board.
Up in the wireless room, Bride had placed a life preserver upon his companion, Phillips, while Phillips sat at his key. Upon returning from Captain Smith’s cabin with a message, Bride saw a grimy stoker of gigantic proportions bending over Phillips removing the life belt. Phillips would not abandon his key for an instant to fight off the stoker. Bride is a little man (he was subsequently saved) but plucky. Drawing his revolver he shot down the intruder and the wireless work went on as though nothing had happened.
J. Bruce Ismay, managing director of the International Mercantile Marine Company, owners of the White Star Line, was sitting in the cafe chatting to some friends when the liner ran upon the berg. He was the first one informed by Captain Smith. Ismay rushed to the deck to look at the berg.
“THE SHIP CANNOT SINK.”
“The ship cannot sink,” was the reply which he gave, with smiling assurance, to all inquirers.
Nevertheless, there are survivors who say that Ismay was one of the passengers of the lifeboats which put off. They saw him enter the boat.
By 1.30 o’clock the great vessel, which only a short time before had been the marvel of the twentieth century, was a water-logged hulk. Panic was steadily growing. The word had been passed around that the ship was doomed. The night continued calm. The sea was smooth. The moon was brilliant in the sky.