Escaping a Torpedo by Rapid Maneuvering.
This British destroyer escaped a torpedo from a hunted submarine by quick turning. This incident took place at the naval fight off the island of Heligoland, in October. (Copyright, The Sun News Service.)
A New Weapon in Warfare.
One of the Belgian armored motor cars surprising a party of Uhlans. Several of the enemy were killed by the rapid fire from swivel machine gun and rifle, but the car driven at a furious pace was wrecked on a fallen horse.
Germany’s Official Paid Advertisement Forewarning Americans Against Disaster; Map Showing Where It Took Place.
This advertisement was wired to forty American newspapers by Count von Bernstorff, German Ambassador at Washington. It was ordered inserted on the morning of the day the Lusitania sailed.
Dr. F. Warren Pearl, of New York, who was saved, with his wife and two of their four children, corroborated Miss Jolivet’s statement, saying:
“After the first shock, as I made my way to the deck, I saw Charles Frohman distributing life-belts. Mr. Frohman evidently did not expect to escape, as he said to a woman passenger, ‘Why should we fear death? It is the greatest adventure man can have.’”
Sir James M. Barrie, in a tribute to Charles Frohman, published in the London Daily Mail, describes him as “the man who never broke his word.
“His companies were as children to him. He chided them as children, soothed them as children and forgave them and certainly loved them as children. He exulted in those who became great in that world, and gave them beautiful toys to play with; but great as was their devotion to him, it is not they who will miss him most, but rather the far greater number who never made a hit, but set off like all the rest, and fell by the way. He was of so sympathetic a nature; he understood so well the dismalness to them of being failures, that he saw them as children, with their knuckles to their eyes, and then he sat back cross-legged on his chair, with his knuckles, as it were, to his eyes, and life had lost its flavor for him until he invented a scheme for giving them another chance.
“Perhaps it is fitting that all those who only made for honest mirth and happiness should now go out of the world; because it is too wicked for them. It is strange to think that in America, Dernburg and Bernstorff, who we must believe were once good men, too, have an extra smile with their breakfast roll because they and theirs have drowned Charles Frohman.”
The presence of so many babies on board the Lusitania was due to the influx from Canada of the English-born wives of Canadians at the battle front, who were coming to England to live with their own or their husband’s parents during the war.
No more pathetic loss has been recorded than that of F. G. Webster, a Toronto contractor, who was traveling second class with his wife, their six-year-old son Frederick and year-old twin sons William and Henry. They reached the deck with others who were in the dining saloon when the torpedo struck. Webster took his son by the hand and darted away to bring life-belts. When he returned his wife and babies were not to be seen, nor have they been since.
W. Harkless, an assistant purser, busied himself helping others until the Lusitania was about to founder. Then, seeing a life-boat striking the water that was not overcrowded, he made a rush for it. The only person he encountered was little Barbara Anderson, of Bridgeport, Conn., who was standing alone, clinging to the rail. Gathering her up in his arms he leaped over the rail and into the boat, doing this without injuring the child.
Francis J. Luker, a British subject, who had worked six years in the United States as a postal clerk, and was going home to enlist, saved two babies. He found the little passengers, bereft of their mother, in the shelter of a deck-house. The Lusitania was nearing her last plunge. A life-boat was swaying to the water below. Grabbing the babies he ran to the rail and made a flying leap into the craft, and those babies did not leave his arms until they were set safely ashore hours later.
One woman, a passenger on the Lusitania, lost all three of her children in the disaster, and gave the bodies of two of them to the sea herself. When the ship went down she held up the three children in the water, shrieking for help. When rescued two were dead. Their room was required and the mother was brave enough to realize it.
“Give them to me!” she shrieked. “Give them to me, my bonnie wee things. I will bury them. They are mine to bury as they were mine to keep.”
With her form shaking with sorrow she took hold of each little one from the rescuers and reverently placed it in the water again, and the people in the boat wept with her as she murmured a little sobbing prayer.
Just as the rescuers were landing her third and only remaining child died.
Even the young girls and women on the Lusitania proved themselves heroines during the last few moments and met their fate calmly or rose to emergencies which called for great bravery and presence of mind.
Fourteen-year-old Kathleen Kaye was returning from Toronto, where she had been visiting relatives. With a merry smile on her lips and with a steady patter of reassurance, she aided the stewards who were filling one of the life-boats.
Soon after the girl took her own place in the boat one of the sailors fainted under the strain of the efforts to get the boat clear of the maelstrom that marked where the liner went down. Miss Kaye took the abandoned oar and rowed until the boat was out of danger. None among the survivors bore fewer signs of their terrible experiences than Miss Kaye, who spent most of her time comforting and assisting her sisters in misfortune.
Ernest Cowper, a Toronto newspaper man, praised the work of the Lusitania’s crew in their efforts to get the passengers into the boats. Mr. Cowper told of having observed the ship watches keeping a strict lookout for submarines as soon as the ship began to near the coast.
“The crew proceeded to get the passengers into boats in an orderly, prompt and efficient manner. Helen Smith, a child, begged me to save her. I placed her in a boat and saw her safely away. I got into one of the last boats to leave.
“Some of the boats could not be launched, as the vessel was sinking. There was a large number of women and children in the second cabin. Forty of the children were less than a year old.”
R. J. Timmis, of Gainesville, Tex., a cotton buyer, who was saved after he had given his life-belt to a woman steerage passenger who carried a baby, told of the loss of his friend, R. T. Moodie, also of Gainesville. Moodie could not swim, but he took off his life-belt also and put it on a woman who had a six-months-old child in her arms. Timmis tried to help Moodie, and they both clung to some wreckage for a while, but presently Moodie could hold out no longer and sank. When Timmis was dragged into a boat which he helped to right—it had been overturned in the suction of the sinking vessel—one of the first persons he assisted into the boat was the steerage woman to whom he had given his belt. She still carried her baby at her breast, but it was dead from exposure.
Oliver P. Brainard told of the bravery of the wireless operators who stuck to their work of summoning help even after it was evident that only a few minutes could elapse before the vessel must go down. He said:
“The wireless operators were working the emergency outfit, the main installation having been put out of gear instantaneously after the torpedo exploded. They were still awaiting a reply and were sending out the S. O. S. call.
“I looked out to sea and saw a man, undressed, floating quietly on his back in the water, evidently waiting to be picked up rather than to take the chance of getting away in a boat. He gave me an idea and I took off my jacket and waistcoat, put my money in my trousers pocket, unlaced my boots and then returned to the Marconi men.
“The assistant operator said, ‘Hush! we are still hoping for an answer. We don’t know yet whether the S. O. S. calls have been picked up or not.’
“At that moment the chief operator turned around, saying, ‘They’ve got it!’
“At that very second the emergency apparatus also broke down. The operator had left the room, but he dashed back and brought out a kodak. He knelt on the deck, now listing at an angle of thirty-five degrees, and took a photograph looking forward.
“The assistant, a big, cheerful chap, lugged out the operator’s swivel chair and offered it to me with a laugh, saying: ‘Take a seat and make yourself comfortable.’ He let go the chair and it careened down the deck and over into the sea.”
F. J. Gauntlet, of New York and Washington, traveling in company with A. L. Hopkins, president of the Newport News Shipbuilding Company, and S. M. Knox, president of the New York Shipbuilding Company, of Philadelphia, unconsciously told the story of his own heroism. He said:
“I was lingering in the dining saloon chatting with friends when the first explosion occurred. Some of us went to our staterooms and put on life-belts. Going on deck we were informed that there was no danger, but the bow of the vessel was gradually sinking. The work of launching the boats was done in a few minutes. Fifty or sixty people entered the first boat. As it swung from the davits it fell suddenly and I think most of the occupants perished. The other boats were launched with the greatest difficulty.
“Swinging free from one of these as it descended, I grabbed what I supposed was a piece of wreckage. I found it to be a collapsible boat, however. I had great difficulty in getting it open, finally having to rip the canvas with my knife. Soon another passenger came alongside and entered the collapsible with me. We paddled around and between us we rescued thirty people from the water.”
George A. Kessler, of New York, said:
“A list to starboard had set in as we were climbing the stairs and it had so rapidly increased by the time we reached the deck, that we were falling against the taffrail. I managed to get my wife onto the first-class deck and there three boats were being got out.
“I placed her in the third, kissed her good-by and saw the boat lowered safely. Then I turned to look for a life-belt for myself. The ship now started to go down. I fell into the water, some kind soul throwing me a life-belt at the same time. Ten minutes later I found myself beside a raft on which were some survivors, who pulled me onto it. We cruised around looking for others and managed to pick up a few, making in all perhaps sixteen or seventeen persons who were on the raft. In all directions were scattered persons struggling for their lives and the boats gave what help they could.”
W. G. E. Meyers, of Stratford, Ont., a lad of sixteen years, who was on his way to join the British navy as a cadet, told this story:
“I went below to get a life-belt and met a woman who was frenzied with fear. I tried to calm her and helped her into a boat. Then I saw a boat which was nearly swamped. I got into it with other men and baled it out. Then a crowd of men clambered into it and nearly swamped it.
“We had got only two hundred yards away when the Lusitania sank, bow first. Many persons sank with her, drawn down by the suction. Their shrieks were appalling. We had to pull hard to get away, and, as it was, we were almost dragged down. We saved all the women and children we could, but a great many of them went down.”
H. Smethhurst, a steerage passenger, put his wife into a life-boat, and in spite of her urging refused to accompany her, saying the women and children must go first. After the boat with his wife in it had pulled away Smethhurst put on a life-belt, slipped down a rope into the water and floated until he was picked up.
COULD NOT LAUNCH BOATS — SAYS SHIP SANK IN FIFTEEN MINUTES — SCREAMS INTENSIFY HORROR — ON HUNT FOR THE LIFE-BELTS — INJURED BOY SHOWS PLUCK — MANY CHILDREN DROWNED — WOMEN RUSHED FOR THE BOATS — PATERSON, N. J., GIRLS AMONG RESCUED — THREATENED SEAMEN WITH REVOLVER — RESCUED UNCONSCIOUS FROM THE WATER — LIFE-BOAT SMASHED — REASSURED BY SHIP’S OFFICER.
Among the stories of the Lusitania horror told by the survivors were a few that stand out from the rest for their clearness and vividness. One of the most interesting of these, notable for the prominence of the man who relates it as well as for its conciseness, was the description given by Samuel M. Knox, president of the New York Shipbuilding Company. Mr. Knox said:
“Shortly after two, while we were finishing luncheon in a calm sea, a heavy concussion was felt on the starboard side, throwing the vessel to port. She immediately swung back and proceeded to take on a list to starboard, which rapidly increased.
“The passengers rapidly, but in good form, left the dining room, proceeding mostly to the A or boat deck. There were preparations being made to launch the boats. Order among the passengers was well maintained, there being nothing approaching a panic. Many of the passengers had gone to their staterooms and provided themselves with life-belts.
“The vessel reached an angle of about twenty-four degrees and at this point there seemed to be a cessation in the listing, the vessel maintaining this position for four or five minutes, when something apparently gave way, and the list started anew and increased rapidly until the end.
“The greater number of passengers were congregated on the high side of the ship, and when it became apparent that she was going to sink I made my way to the lower side, where there appeared to be several boats only partly filled and no passengers on that deck. At this juncture I found the outside of the boat deck practically even with the water and the ship was even farther down by the head.
“I stepped into a boat and a sailor in charge then attempted to cast her off, but it was found that the boat-falls had fouled the boat and she could not be released in the limited time available. I went overboard at once and attempted to get clear of the ship, which was coming over slowly. I was caught by one of the smokestacks and carried down a considerable distance before being released.
“On coming to the surface I floated about for a considerable time, when I was picked up by a life-raft. This raft, with others, had floated free when the vessel sank, and had been picked up and taken charge of by Mr. Gauntlet, of Washington, and Mr. Lauriat, of Boston, who picked up thirty-two persons in all.
“It was equipped with oars, and we made our way to a fishing smack, about five miles distant, which took us on board, although it was already overloaded. We were finally taken off this boat by the Cunard tender Flying Fish and brought to Queenstown at 9.30.”
Some of the passengers, notably David A. Thomas, told of panicky conditions on board the vessel before she sank, and one of the rescued declared that the loss of life was due to some extent to the assurances spread by the stewards among the passengers that there was no danger of the Lusitania sinking. But all united in praising the courage and steadiness of the officers and crew of the ship.
Mr. Thomas, a Cardiff, Wales, coal magnate, who was rescued with his daughter, Lady Mackworth, said that not more than fifteen minutes elapsed between the first explosion and the sinking of the ship. Lady Mackworth had put on a life-preserver and went down with the Lusitania. When she arose to the surface, Mr. Thomas said, she was unconscious, and floated around in the tumbling sea for three and a half hours before she was picked up.
“As soon as the explosions occurred,” said Mr. Thomas, “and the officers learned what had happened, the ship’s course was directed toward the shore, with the idea of beaching her. Captain Turner remained upon the bridge until the ship went down, and he was swallowed up in the maelstrom that followed. He wore a life-belt, which kept him afloat when he arose to the surface, and remained in the water for three hours before he was picked up by a life-boat.
“During the last few minutes’ life of the Lusitania she was a ship of panic and tumult. Excited men and terrified women ran shouting and screaming about the decks. Lost children cried shrilly. Officers and seamen rushed among the panic-stricken passengers, shouting orders and helping the women and children into life-boats. Women clung desperately to their husbands or knelt on the deck and prayed. Life-preservers were distributed among the passengers, who hastily donned them and flung themselves into the water.
As Others See Us.
“In their haste and excitement the seamen overloaded one life-boat and the davit ropes broke while it was being lowered, the occupants being thrown into the water. The screams of these terrified women and men intensified the fright of those still on the ship. Altogether I counted ten life-boats launched.”
A German submarine was seen for an hour before the liner was sunk, according to Dr. Daniel Moore, of Yankton, S. D., who said:
“About 1 P.M. we noticed that the Lusitania was steering a zigzag course. Land had been in sight for three hours, distinctly visible twelve miles away. Looking through my glasses, I could see on the port side of the Lusitania, between us and land, what appeared to be a black, oblong object, with four dome-like projections. It was moving along parallel to us, more than two miles away. At times it slowed down and disappeared. But always it reappeared. All this time the Lusitania was zigzagging along. Later the Lusitania kept a more even course, and we generally agreed then that it was a friendly submarine we were watching. We had seen no other vessels except one or two fishing boats.
“At 1.40 we sat down to luncheon in the second saloon. We talked of the curious object we had seen, but nobody seemed anxious or concerned. About two o’clock a muffled, drum-like noise sounded from the forward part of the Lusitania and she shivered and trembled. Almost immediately she began to list to starboard. She had been struck on the starboard side. Unless the first submarine seen had been speedy enough to make rings around the Lusitania, this torpedo must have come from a second submarine which had been lying hidden to starboard.
“We heard no sound of explosion. There was general excitement among the passengers at luncheon, but the women were soon quieted by assurances that there was no danger and that the Lusitania had merely struck a small mine. The passengers left the saloon in good order.
“As I reached the deck above I had difficulty in walking owing to the tilt of the vessel. With most of the passengers I ran on to the promenade deck. There was no crushing. Although the deck was crowded, I looked over the side; but I could see no evidence of damage. I started to return to my cabin, but the list of the liner was so marked that I abandoned the idea and regained the deck. Looking over the starboard rail, I saw that the water was now only about twelve feet from the rail at one point. While searching for a life-belt I came upon a stewardess struggling with a pile of life-belts in a rack below deck and helped her put one on, afterward securing one for myself. I had tremendous difficulty in reaching the promenade deck again.
“The Lusitania now was on her side and sinking by the bow. I saw a woman clinging to the rail near where a boat was being lowered. I pushed her over the rail into the boat, afterward jumping down myself.
“The boat fell bodily into the sea, but kept afloat, although so heavily loaded that water was lapping in. We bailed with our hats, but could not keep pace with the water, and I realized we must soon sink.
“Seeing a keg, I threw it overboard and sprang after it. A young steward named Freeman also used the keg as a support. Looking back, I saw the boat I had left swamped. We clung to the keg for about an hour and a half and then were picked up by a raft on which were twenty persons, including two women.
“We had oars and rowed toward land. At about four o’clock we were picked up by the patrol boat Brook. She took us aboard and then cruised out to where the Lusitania had gone down, picking up many survivors there, also taking aboard many from boats and rafts.
“A number of those picked up were injured, including a little boy, whose left thigh was broken. I improvised splints for him and set his leg. He was a plucky little chap, and was soon asking, ‘Is there a funny paper aboard?’
“At the scene of the catastrophe the surface of the water had seemed dotted with bodies. Only a few life-boats seemed to be doing good. Cries of ‘Save us! Help!’ gradually grew weaker from all sides. Finally low wailings made the heart sick. I saw many men die.
“There was no suction when the ship settled. It went down steadily. The life-boats were not in order and they were not manned. Weighing all the facts soberly convinces me that it was only through the mercy of God that any one was saved. Are there any bounds to this modern vandalism?”
L. Tonner, a County Dublin man, and a stoker on the Lusitania, who was one of the survivors landed at Kinsale, said:
“There must have been two submarines attacking the Lusitania. The liner was first torpedoed on the starboard side, and right through the engine room a few minutes afterward the Lusitania received a second torpedo on the port side. The Lusitania listed so heavily to starboard that it was impossible to lower the boats on the port side.”
Prominent American Victims of the Lusitania Horror.
Alfred G. Vanderbilt, New York Millionaire. (C. Underwood & Underwood.)
Elbert Hubbard, Editor and Lecturer. (C. Int. News Service.)
Charles Frohman, Theatrical Magnate. (C. Underwood & Underwood.)
Charles Klein, well-known Playwright. (C. Int. News Service.)
Sorrowful Burial of Some of the Lusitania Victims.
Sixty-six coffins were placed in one grave at the Queenstown graveyard. In the presence of a large crowd they were buried with full military honors. The view shows a few of the caskets in the grave. (C. Int. News Service.)
G. D. Lane, a youthful but cool-headed second-cabin passenger, who was returning to Wales from New York, was in a life-boat which was capsized by the davits as the Lusitania heeled over.
“I was on the B deck,” he said, “when I saw the wake of a torpedo. I hardly realized what it meant when the big ship seemed to stagger and almost immediately listed to starboard. I rushed to get a life-belt, but stopped to help get children on the boat deck. The second cabin was a veritable nursery.
“Many youngsters must have drowned, but I had the satisfaction of seeing one boat get away filled with women and children. When the water reached the deck I saw another life-boat with a vacant seat, which I took, as no one else was in sight, but we were too late. The Lusitania reeled so suddenly our boat was swamped, but we righted it again.
“We now witnessed the most horrible scene of human futility it is possible to imagine. When the Lusitania had turned almost over she suddenly plunged bow foremost into the water, leaving her stern high in the air. People on the aft deck were fighting with wild desperation to retain a footing on the almost perpendicular deck while they fell over the slippery stern like crippled flies.
“Their cries and shrieks could be heard above the hiss of escaping steam and the crash of bursting boilers. Then the water mercifully closed over them and the big liner disappeared, leaving scarcely a ripple behind her.
“Twelve life-boats were all that were left of our floating home. In time which could be measured by seconds swimmers, bodies and wreckage appeared in the space where she went down. I was almost exhausted by the work of rescue when taken aboard the trawler. It seems like a horrible dream now.”
According to another American survivor, W. H. Brooks, “there was a scene of great confusion as women and children rushed for the boats which were launched with the greatest difficulty and danger, owing to the tilting of the ship.
“I heard the captain order that no more boats be launched, so I leaped into the sea. After I reached the water there was another explosion which sent up a shower of wreckage.”
Dr. J. T. Houghton, of Troy, N. Y., said: “It was believed there was no reason to fear any danger after the first explosion, as it was said the vessel would be headed for Queenstown and beached if necessary. Meanwhile boats were being got ready for any emergency.
“Just then the liner was again struck, evidently in a more vital spot, for it began to settle rapidly. Orders then came from the bridge to lower all boats. A near panic took possession of the women. People were rushed into the boats, some of which were launched successfully, others not so successfully.”
Oscar F. Grab, of New York, said: “I was able to get hold of a life-preserver and I remained on the starboard side until the water was almost at my feet. Then I slid into the sea so easily that I did not even wet my hair. I was soon picked up by a boat in which were twenty women and some children.
“We had to keep the women lying in the bottom so as to get room to pull at the oars. The ship went down, as seen by me from the water, in this fashion:
“She had settled down well forward. She then listed to starboard, and rose to a perpendicular until the stern with the propellers was sticking straight out of the water.
“An explosion then occurred as the water reached the boilers; one of the funnels was blown clean out, and in half a minute there was nothing visible of the Lusitania but a lot of wreckage mingled with a number of dead bodies.”
The Misses Agnes and Evelyn Wilde, sisters, of Paterson, N. J., were at lunch when the torpedo struck the vessel. They rushed on deck. Miss Agnes Wilde said:
“We clung to each other, determined not to be separated, even if we went to the bottom. We were thrown into a boat, together with thirty-six others, and after several hours were picked up by a fishing boat, which towed us for several hours, intending to take us to Kinsale. Before we arrived, however, a Government boat came along and took us to Queenstown.
“We were drenched to the skin, cold and penniless. We went into a shop, where they fitted us out from head to foot without charge. We are only beginning to realize what we have passed through.”
Mrs. Martha Anna Wyatt, sixty years old, of New Bedford, Mass., said: “I went down with the ship and spent four hours in a collapsible boat before being picked up. I was going to England to live.
“While the ship was sinking I found it impossible to get into any of the life-boats. There seemed no help about. I simply stood still, clinging to the rail, and went down. I seemed to go to the bottom. When I came to the surface again I was pulled into the collapsible boat which brought me to safety.”
Mrs. C. Stewart, who was traveling from Toronto to Glasgow, said:
“I was in my cabin with my eight-months-old baby, who was sleeping in the berth, when I heard the crash. I snatched my baby up and went on deck. A man yelled, ‘Come on with the baby.’ I handed him the infant and he said, ‘Now for yourself.’
“We were two and a half hours in the boat before we were picked up by a Greek steamer.”
Robert C. Wright, of Cleveland, O., gave what may be the last word of Elbert Hubbard. Mr. Wright said:
“I don’t know who was saved, but I know that Elbert Hubbard must have been drowned. He was a conspicuous person on account of his long hair. I saw him and his wife start below, apparently for life-belts, but I never saw either again. I am certain they were drowned.”
Isaac Lehmann, of New York, a first-cabin passenger, who described himself as being engaged in the Department of Government Supplies, said that after having witnessed an accident to one of the boats through the snapping of the ropes while it was being lowered, he ran into his cabin and seizing a revolver and a life-belt, returned to the deck and mounted a collapsible boat and called to some of the crew to assist in launching it. One sailor, he said, replied that the captain’s orders were that no boats were to be put out.
“I drew my revolver, which was loaded with ball cartridges,” said Mr. Lehmann, “and shouted ‘I’ll shoot the first man who refuses to assist in launching.’ The boat was then lowered. At least sixty persons were in it. Unfortunately, the Lusitania lurched so badly that the boat repeatedly struck the side of the sinking ship, and I think at least twenty of its occupants were killed or injured.
“At that instant we heard an explosion on the right up forward, and within two minutes the liner disappeared. I was thrown clear of the wreckage, and went down twice, but the life-belt that I had on brought me up. I was in the water fully four hours and a half.”
Asked as to the probable speed of the Lusitania when she was struck by the torpedo, Mr. Lehmann said the boat was probably going at about sixteen or seventeen knots.
Julian de Ayala, Consul General for Cuba at Liverpool, said that he was ill in his berth when the Lusitania was torpedoed. He was thrown against the partition of his berth by the explosion and suffered an injury to his head and had flesh torn off one of his legs.
The boat Mr. de Ayala got into capsized and he was thrown into the water, but later he was picked up.
“Captain Turner,” said Mr. de Ayala, “thought he could bring the crippled vessel into Queenstown, but she rapidly began to sink by the head.
“Her stern went up so high,” Mr. de Ayala added, “that we could see all of her propellers, and she went down with a headlong plunge, volumes of steam hissing from her funnels.”
The experience of two New York girls, Miss Mary Barrett and Miss Kate MacDonald, rescued at the last minute, may be taken as typical of the experience of many others. Miss Barrett gives the following account of her experiences:
“We had gone into the second saloon and were just finishing lunch. I heard a sound something like the smashing of big dishes and then there came a second and louder crash. Miss MacDonald and I started to go upstairs, but we were thrown back by the crowd when the ship stopped. But we managed to get to the second deck, where we found sailors trying to lower boats.
“There was no panic and the ship’s officers and crew went about their work quietly and steadily. I went to get two life-belts, but a man standing by told us to remain where we were and he would fetch them for us. He brought us two belts and we put them on. By this time the ship was leaning right over to starboard and we were both thrown down. We managed to scramble to the side of the liner.
“Near us I saw a rope attached to one of the life-boats. I thought I could catch it, so we murmured a few words of prayer and then jumped into the water. I missed the rope, but floated about in the water for some time. I did not lose consciousness at first, but the water got into my eyes and mouth and I began to lose hope of ever seeing my friends again. I could not see anybody near me. Then I must have lost consciousness, for I remember nothing more until one of the Lusitania’s life-boats came along. The crew was pulling on board another woman, who was unconscious, and they shouted to me, ‘You hold on a little longer!’
“After a time they lifted me out of the water. Then I remembered nothing more for a time. In the meantime our boat had picked up twenty others. It was getting late in the evening when we were transferred to a trawler and taken to Queenstown.
“Miss MacDonald floated about nearly four hours in a dazed state. She had little remembrance of what had passed until a boat saved her. She remembered somebody saying, ‘Oh, the poor girl is dead!’ She had just strength to raise her hand and they returned and pulled her on board.”
Miss Conner, a cousin of Henry L. Stimson, formerly Secretary of War of the United States, was standing beside Lady Mackworth when they were flung into the water as the ship keeled over. Both women were provided with life-belts and were picked up when at the point of exhaustion.
Doctor Howard Fisher of New York, who is a brother of Walter L. Fisher, formerly Secretary of the Interior of the United States, was on his way to Belgium for Red Cross duty. His story follows:
“It is not true that those on board were unconcerned over the possibility of being torpedoed. I took the big liner to save time and also because in case of a floating mine I felt she would have more chance of staying up. But like everybody else aboard, I felt sure in case of being torpedoed that we would have ample time to take to the boats.
“When I heard the crash I rushed to the port side. No officer was in sight. An effort was being made to lower the boat swinging just opposite the grand entrance. Women, children and men made a mad scramble about this boat, which was smashed against the side, throwing all the occupants into the sea.
“Then two big men, one a sailor and the other a passenger, succeeded in launching a second boat. Much to my surprise this amateur effort was successful. This boat got away and carried chiefly women and children. This boat was successfully launched on the port side.
“We then saw our first glimpse of an officer, who came along the deck and spoke to Lady Mackworth, Miss Conner and myself, who were standing in a group. He said:
“‘Don’t worry, the ship will right itself.’ He had hardly moved on before the ship turned sideways and then seemed to plunge head foremost into the sea.
“I came up after what seemed to be an interminable time under water and found myself surrounded by swimmers, dead bodies and wreckage. I got on an upturned yawl, where I found thirty other people, among them Lady Allan, whose collar-bone was broken while she was in the water.
“Another passenger on the yawl, a man whose name I did not learn, had his arm hanging by the skin. His injury probably was due to the explosion which followed. His arm was amputated successfully with a butcher knife by a little Italian surgeon aboard the tramp steamer which picked me up.”
PERCY ROGERS, OF CANADIAN NATIONAL EXHIBITION, TELLS GRAPHIC STORY — PASSENGERS WERE AGHAST — OCCUPANTS OF LIFE-BOATS THROWN INTO SEA — A HEART-BREAKING SCENE.
Percy Rogers, assistant manager and secretary of the Canadian National Exhibition, who went to England in connection with the Toronto Fair, told a graphic story of his experiences after the Lusitania was struck. He undoubtedly owed his life to the fact that he was a good swimmer.
“It had been a splendid crossing,” he said, “with a calm sea and fine weather contributing to a delightful trip. The Lusitania made nothing like her maximum pace. Her speed probably was about five hundred miles daily, which, as travelers know, is below her average.
“Early Friday morning we sighted the Irish coast. Then we entered a slight fog, and speed was reduced, but we soon came into a clear atmosphere again, and the pace of the boat increased. The morning passed and we went as usual down to lunch, although some were a little later than others in taking the meal. I should think it would be about ten minutes past two when I came from lunch. I immediately proceeded to my stateroom, close to the dining-room, to get a letter which I had written. While in there I heard a tremendous thud, and I came out immediately.
“There was no panic where I was, but the people were aghast. It was realized that the boat had been struck, apparently on the side nearest the land. The passengers hastened to the boat deck above. The life-boats were hanging out, having been put into that position on the previous day. The Lusitania soon began to list badly with the result that the side on which I and several others were standing went up as the other side dropped. This seemed to cause difficulty in launching the boats, which seemed to get bound against the side of the liner.
“It was impossible, of course, for me to see what was happening in other places, but among the group where I was stationed there was no panic. The order was given, ‘Women and children first,’ and was followed implicitly. The first life-boat lowered with people at the spot where I stood smacked upon the water, and as it did so the stern of this life-boat seemed to part and the people were thrown into the sea. The other boats were lowered more successfully.
“We heard somebody say, ‘Get out of the boats; there is no danger,’ and some people actually did get out, but the direction was not generally acted upon. I entered a boat in which there were men, women and children, I should say between twenty and twenty-five. There were no other women or children standing on the liner where we were, our position, I should think, being about the last boat but one from the stern of the ship.
“Our boat dropped into the water, and for a few minutes we were all right. Then the liner went over. We were not far from her. Whatever the cause may have been—perhaps the effect of suction—I don’t know, but we were thrown into the sea. Some of the occupants were wearing life-belts, but I was not. The only life-belts I knew about were in the cabins, and it had not appeared to me that there was time to risk going there. It must have been about 2.30 when I was thrown into the water. The watch I was wearing stopped at that time.
“What a terrible scene there was around me! It is harrowing to think about the men, women and children struggling in the water. I had the presence of mind to swim away from the boat and made towards a collapsible boat, upon which was the captain and a number of others. For this purpose I had to swim quite a distance.
“I noticed three children among the group. Our collapsible boat began rocking. Every moment it seemed we should be thrown again into the sea. The captain appealed to the people in it to be careful, but the boat continued to rock, and I came to the conclusion that it would be dangerous to remain in it if all were to have a chance. I said, ‘Good-by, Captain; I’m going to swim,’ and jumped into the water. I believe the captain did the same thing after me, although I did not see him, but I understand he was picked up.