Free A Night to Remember by Walter Lord Page B

… rippled around the cranes, the hatches, the foot of the mast … washed against the base of the white superstructure. The roar of steam had died, the nerve-racking rockets had stopped—but the slant of the deck was steeper and there was an ugly list to port.
    About 1:40, Chief Officer Wilde shouted, “Everyone on the starboard side to straighten her up!” Passengers and crew trooped over, and the Titanic swung sluggishly back on an even keel. The work on the boats resumed.
    As No. 2 prepared to cast off at 1:45, Steward Johnson, his pockets bulging with oranges, yelled up to the Boat Deck for a razor to cut the falls. Seaman McAuliffe dropped one down, calling, “Remember me at Southampton and give it to me back!” McAuliffe was probably the last man on the Titanic so sure of returning to Southampton.
    First Officer Murdoch knew better. As he walked along the deck with Chief Steward Hardy of Second Class, he sighed, “I believe she’s gone, Hardy.”
    There was no longer any difficulty persuading people to leave the ship. Paul Maugé, the Chef’s Assistant, jumped 10 feet into a dangling boat. Somebody on a lower deck tried to drag him out, but he squirmed free and was safe.
    Third Class passenger Daniel Buckley—safely through the broken gate and onto the Boat Deck—took no more chances. With several other men he jumped into a boat and huddled there crying. Most of the men were hauled out, but somewhere he got a woman’s shawl. He said Mrs. Astor put it over him. In any case, the disguise worked.
    Another young man—no more than a boy—wasn’t as lucky. Fifth Officer Lowe caught him under a seat in No. 14, begging that he wouldn’t take up much room. Lowe drew his gun, but the boy only pleaded harder. Then Lowe changed tactics, told him to be a man, and somehow got him out. By now Mrs. Charlotte Collyer and other women in the boat were sobbing, and her eight-year-old daughter Marjory joined the uproar, tugging at Lowe’s arm and crying, “Oh, Mr. Man, don’t shoot, please don’t shoot the poor man!”
    Lowe paused long enough to smile and nod at her reassuringly. The boy was out now, anyhow, lying facedown near a coil of rope.
    But No. 14’s troubles weren’t over. Another wave of men rushed the boat. Seaman Scarrott beat them back with the tiller. This time Lowe pulled his gun and shouted, “If anyone else tries that, this is what he’ll get!” He fired three times along the side of the ship as the boat dropped down to the sea.
    Murdoch barely stopped a rush at No. 15. He yelled at the crowd, “Stand back! Stand back! It’s women first!”
    All the way forward, there was more trouble at Collapsible C, which had been fitted into the davits used by No. 1. A big mob pushed and shoved, trying to climb aboard.
    Two men dropped in. Purser Herbert McElroy fired twice into the air. Murdoch shouted, “Get out of this! Clear out of this!” Hugh Woolner and Bjornstrom Steffanson—attracted by the pistol flashes—rushed over to help. Yanking the culprits by arms, legs, anything, they cleared the boat. The loading continued.
    Jack Thayer stood off to one side with Milton Long, a young shipboard acquaintance from Springfield, Massachusetts. They had met for the first time this evening over after-dinner coffee. Following the crash, Long—who was traveling alone—attached himself to the Thayer family, but he and Jack lost the older Thayers in the crowd on A Deck. Now they were alone, debating what to do, supposing the rest of the family was already off in the boats. They finally decided to stay clear of Boat C. With all the uproar, it seemed bound to tip over.
    But they were wrong. Things gradually straightened out, and finally Boat C was ready for lowering. Chief Officer Wilde shouted to know who was in command. Hearing him, Captain Smith turned to Quartermaster Rowe—still fiddling with the Morse lamp—and told him to take charge. Rowe jumped in and got ready to lower.
    Close by, President Bruce Ismay