“The stern then seemed to rise in the air and stopped at about an angle of 60 degrees. It seemed to hold there for a time and then with a hissing sound it shot right down out of sight with people jumping from the stern. The stern either pivoted around towards our boat, or we were sucked towards it, and as we only had one oar we could not keep away. There did not seem to be very much suction and most of us managed to stay on the bottom of our boat.
“We were then right in the midst of fairly large wreckage, with people swimming all around us. The sea was very calm and we kept the boat pretty steady, but every now and then a wave would wash over it.
“The assistant wireless operator was right next to me, holding on to me and kneeling in the water. We all sang a hymn and said the Lord’s Prayer, and then waited for dawn to come. As often as we saw the other boats in a distance we would yell, ‘Ship ahoy!’ But they could not distinguish our cries from any of the others, so we all gave it up, thinking it useless. It was very cold and none of us were able to move around to keep warm, the water washing over her almost all the time.
“Toward dawn the wind sprang up, roughening up the water and making it difficult to keep the boat balanced. The wireless man raised our hopes a great deal by telling us that the Carpathia would be up in about three hours. About 3.30 or 4 o’clock some men on our boat on the bow sighted her mast lights. I could not see them, as I was sitting down with a man kneeling on my leg. He finally got up and I stood up. We had the second officer, Mr. Lightoller, on board. We had an officer’s whistle and whistled for the boats in the distance to come up and take us off.
“It took about an hour and a half for the boats to draw near. Two boats came up. The first took half and the other took the balance, including myself. We had great difficulty about this time in balancing the boat, as the men would lean too far, but we were all taken aboard the already crowded boat, and in about a half or three-quarters of an hour later we were picked up by the Carpathia.
“I have noticed Second Officer Lightoller’s statement that ‘J. B. Thayer was on our overturned boat,’ which would give the impression that it was father, when he really meant it was I, as he only learned my name in a subsequent conversation on the Carpathia, and did not know I was ‘junior’.”
CHAPTER XVI. INCIDENTS RELATED BY JAMES McGOUGH
SURROUNDED by his wife and members of his family, James McGough, of Philadelphia, a buyer for the Gimbel Brothers, whose fate had been in doubt, recited a most thrilling and graphic picture of the disaster.
As the Carpathia docked, Mrs. McGough, a brother and several friends of the buyer, met him, and after the touching reunion had taken place the party proceeded to Philadelphia.
Vivid in detail, Mr. McGough’s story differs essentially from one the imagination would paint. He declared that the boat was driving at a high rate of speed at the time of the accident, and seemed impressed by the calmness and apathy displayed by the survivors as they tossed on the frozen seas in the little life-boats until the Carpathia picked them up.
The Titanic did not plunge into the water suddenly, he declared, but settled slowly into the deep with its hundreds of passengers.
“The collision occurred at 20 minutes of 12,” said Mr. McGough. “I was sleeping in my cabin when I felt a wrench, not severe or terrifying.
“It seemed to me to be nothing more serious than the racing of the screw, which often occurs when a ship plunges her bow deep into a heavy swell, raising the stern out of water. We dressed hurriedly and ran to the upper deck. There was little noise or tumult at the time.
“The promenade decks being higher from the base of the ship and thus more insecure, strained and creaked; so we went to the lower decks. By this time the engines had been reversed, and I could feel the ship backing off. Officers and stewards ran through the corridors, shouting for all to be calm, that there was no danger. We were warned, however, to dress and put life-preservers on us. I had on what clothing I could find and had stuffed some money in my pocket.
“As I passed the gymnasium I saw Colonel Astor and his young wife together. She was clinging to him, piteously pleading that he go into the life-boat with her. He refused almost gruffly and was attempting to calm her by saying that all her fears were groundless, that the accident she feared would prove a farce. It proved different, however.
“None, I believe, knew that the ship was about to sink. I did not realize it just then. When I reached the upper deck and saw tons of ice piled upon our crushed bow the full realization came to me.
“Officers stood with drawn guns ordering the women into the boats. All feared to leave the comparative safety of a broad and firm deck for the precarious smaller boats. Women clung to their husbands, crying that they would never leave without them, and had to be torn away.
“On one point all the women were firm. They would not enter a Life-boat until men were in it first. They feared to trust themselves to the seas in them. It required courage to step into the frail crafts as they swung from the creaking davits. Few men were willing to take the chance. An officer rushed behind me and shouted:
“‘You’re big enough to pull an oar. Jump into this boat or we’ll never be able to get the women off.’ I was forced to do so, though I admit that the ship looked a great deal safer to me than any small boat.
“Our boat was the second off. Forty or more persons were crowded into it, and with myself and members of the crew at the oars, were pulled slowly away. Huge icebergs, larger than the Pennsylvania depot at New York, surrounded us. As we pulled away we could see boat after boat filled and lowered to the waves. Despite the fact that they were new and supposedly in excellent working order, the blocks jammed in many instances, tilting the boats, loaded with people, at varying angles before they reached the water.
“As the life-boats pulled away the officers ordered the bands to play, and their music did much to quell panic. It was a heart-breaking sight to us tossing in an eggshell three-fourths of a mile away, to see the great ship go down. First she listed to the starboard, on which side the collision had occurred, then she settled slowly but steadily, without hope of remaining afloat.
“The Titanic was all aglow with lights as if for a function. First we saw the lights of the lower deck snuffed out. A while later and the second deck illumination was extinguished in a similar manner. Then the third and upper decks were darkened, and without plunging or rocking the great ship disappeared slowly from the surface of the sea.
“People were crowded on each deck as it lowered into the water, hoping in vain that aid would come in time. Some of the life-boats caught in the merciless suction were swallowed with her.
“The sea was calm—calm as the water in a tumbler. But it was freezing cold. None had dressed heavily, and all, therefore, suffered intensely. The women did not shriek or grow hysterical while we waited through the awful night for help. We men stood at the oars, stood because there was no room for us to sit, and kept the boat headed into the swell to prevent her capsizing. Another boat was at our side, but all the others were scattered around the water.
“Finally, shortly before 6 o’clock, we saw the lights of the Carpathia approaching. Gradually she picked up the survivors in the other boats and then approached us. When we were lifted to the deck the women fell helpless. They were carried to whatever quarters offered themselves, while the men were assigned to the smoking room.