“George D. Widener and Harry Elkins Widener were among those who jumped at the last minute. So did Robert Williams Daniel. The three of them went down together. Daniel struck out, lashing the water with his arms until he had made a point far distant from the sinking monster of the sea. Later he was picked up by one of the passing life-boats.
“The Wideners were not seen again, nor was John B. Thayer, who went down on the boat. ‘Jack’ Thayer, who was literally thrown off the Titanic by an explosion, after he had refused to leave the men to go with his mother, floated around on a raft for an hour before he was picked up.”
Graphic accounts of the final plunge of the Titanic were related by two Englishmen, survivors by the merest chance. One of them struggled for hours to hold himself afloat on an overturned collapsible life-boat, to one end of which John B. Thayer, Jr., of Philadelphia, whose father perished, hung until rescued.
The men gave their names as A. H. Barkworth, justice of the peace of East Riding, Yorkshire, England, and W. J. Mellers, of Christ Church Terrace, Chelsea, London. The latter, a young man, had started for this country with his savings to seek his fortune, and lost all but his life.
Mellers, like Quartermaster Moody, said Captain Smith did not commit suicide. The captain jumped from the bridge, Mellers declares, and he heard him say to his officers and crew: “You have done your duty, boys. Now every man for himself.” Mellers and Barkworth, who say their names have been spelled incorrectly in most of the lists of survivors, both declare there were three distinct explosions before the Titanic broke in two, and bow section first, and stern part last, settled with her human cargo into the sea.
Her four whistles kept up a deafening blast until the explosions, declare the men. The death cries from the shrill throats of the blatant steam screechers beside the smokestacks so rent the air that conversation among the passengers was possible only when one yelled into the ear of a fellow-unfortunate.
“I did not know the Thayer family well,” declared Mr. Barkworth, “but I had met young Thayer, a clear-cut chap, and his father on the trip. The lad and I struggled in the water for several hours endeavoring to hold afloat by grabbing to the sides and end of an overturned life-boat. Now and again we lost our grip and fell back into the water. I did not recognize young Thayer in the darkness, as we struggled for our lives, but I did recall having met him before when we were picked up by a life-boat. We were saved by the merest chance, because the survivors on a life-boat that rescued us hesitated in doing so, it seemed, fearing perhaps that additional burdens would swamp the frail craft.
“I considered my fur overcoat helped to keep me afloat. I had a life preserver over it, under my arms, but it would not have held me up so well out of the water but for the coat. The fur of the coat seemed not to get wet through, and retained a certain amount of air that added to buoyance. I shall never part with it.
“The testimony of J. Bruce Ismay, managing director of the White Star Line, that he had not heard explosions before the Titanic settled, indicates that he must have gotten some distance from her in his life-boat. There were three distinct explosions and the ship broke in the center. The bow settled headlong first, and the stern last. I was looking toward her from the raft to which young Thayer and I had clung.”
Barkworth jumped, just before the Titanic went down. He said there were enough life-preservers for all the passengers, but in the confusion many may not have known where to look for them. Mellers, who had donned a life-preserver, was hurled into the air, from the bow of the ship by the force of the explosion, which he believed caused the Titanic to part in the center.
“I was not far from where Captain Smith stood on the bridge, giving full orders to his men,” said Mellers. “The brave old seaman was crying, but he had stuck heroically to the last. He did not shoot himself. He jumped from the bridge when he had done all he could. I heard his final instructions to his crew, and recall that his last words were: ‘You have done your duty, boys. Now every man for himself.’
“I thought I was doomed to go down with the rest. I stood on the deck, awaiting my fate, fearing to jump from the ship. Then came a grinding noise, followed by two others, and I was hurled into the deep. Great waves engulfed me, but I was not drawn toward the ship, so that I believe there was little suction. I swam about for more than one hour before I was picked up by a boat.”
Charles Herbert Lightoller, previously mentioned, stood by the ship until the last, working to get the passengers away, and when it appeared that he had made his last trip he went up high on the officers’ quarters and made the best dive he knew how to make just as the ship plunged down to the depths. This is an excerpt from his testimony before the Senate investigating committee:
“What time did you leave the ship?”
“I didn’t leave it.”
“Did it leave you?”
“Yes, sir.”
Children shall hear that episode sung in after years and his own descendants shall recite it to their bairns. Mr. Lightoller acted as an officer and gentleman should, and he was not the only one.
That Jay Yates, gambler, confidence man and fugitive from justice, known to the police and in sporting circles as J. H. Rogers, went down with the Titanic after assisting many women aboard life-boats, became known when a note, written on a blank page torn from a diary: was delivered to his sister. Here is a facsimile of the note:
{illust.}
This note was given by Rogers to a woman he was helping into a life-boat. The woman, who signed herself “Survivor,” inclosed the note with the following letter.
“You will find note that was handed to me as I was leaving the Titanic. Am stranger to this man, but think he was a card player. He helped me aboard a life-boat and I saw him help others. Before we were lowered I saw him jump into the sea. If picked up I did not recognize him on the Carpathia. I don’t think he was registered on the ship under his right name.”
Rogers’ mother, Mrs. Mary A. Yates, an old woman, broke down when she learned son had perished.
“Thank God I know where he is now,” she sobbed. “I have not heard from him for two years. The last news I had from him he was in London.”
Among the many hundreds of heroic souls who went bravely and quietly to their end were fifty happy-go-lucky youngsters shipped as bell boys or messengers to serve the first cabin passengers. James Humphreys, a quartermaster, who commanded life-boat No. 11, told a li{t}tle story that shows how these fifty lads met death.
Humphreys said the boys were called to their regular posts in the main cabin entry and taken in charge by their captain, a steward. They were ordered to remain in the cabin and not get in the way. Throughout the first hour of confusion and terror these lads sat quietly on their benches in various parts of the first cabin.
Then, just toward the end when the order was passed around that the ship was going down and every man was free to save himself, if he kept away from the life-boats in which the women were being taken, the bell boys scattered to all parts of the ship.
{illust. caption = “WHO HATH MEASURED THE WATERS IN THE HOLLOW OF HIS HAND."—Isaiah XL:xii}
Humphreys said he saw numbers of them smoking cigarettes and joking with the passengers. They seemed to think that their violation of the rule against smoking while on duty was a sufficient breach of discipline.