Volume 2 — Descriptions by Survivors

SUBMARINE CREW OBSERVED.

[By The Associated Press.]

LONDON, May 10.—The Fishguard correspondent of The Daily News quotes the Rev. Mr. Guvier of the Church of England's Canadian Railway Mission, a Lusitania survivor, as saying that when the ship sank a submarine rose to the surface and came within 300 yards of the scene.

"The crew stood stolidly on the deck," he said, "and surveyed their handiwork. I could distinguish the German flag, but it was impossible to see the number of the submarine, which disappeared after a few minutes."

ERNEST COWPER'S ACCOUNT.

QUEENSTOWN, Saturday, May 8, 3:18 A.M.—A sharp lookout for submarines was kept aboard the Lusitania as she approached the Irish coast, according to Ernest Cowper, a Toronto newspaper man, who was among the survivors landed at Queenstown.

He said that after the ship was torpedoed there was no panic among the crew, but that they went about the work of getting passengers into the boats in a prompt and efficient manner.

"As we neared the coast of Ireland," said Mr. Cowper, "we all joined in the lookout, for a possible attack by a submarine was the sole topic of conversation.

"I was chatting with a friend at the rail about 2 o'clock, when suddenly I caught a glimpse of the conning tower of a submarine about a thousand yards distant. I immediately called my friend's attention to it. Immediately we both saw the track of a torpedo, followed almost instantly by an explosion. Portions of splintered hull were sent flying into the air, and then another torpedo struck. The ship began to list to starboard.

"The crew at once proceeded to get the passengers into boats in an orderly, prompt, and efficient manner. Miss Helen Smith appealed to 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."

From interviews with passengers it appears that when the torpedoes burst they sent forth suffocating fumes, which had their effect on the passengers, causing some of them to lose consciousness.

Two stokers, Byrne and Hussey of Liverpool, gave a few details. They said the submarine gave no notice and fired two torpedoes, one hitting No. 1 stoke hole and the second the engine room. The first torpedo was discharged at 2 o'clock. In twenty-five minutes the great liner disappeared.

The Cunard Line agent states that the total number of persons aboard the Lusitania was 2,160.

MR. KESSLER'S DESCRIPTION.

[Special Cable to THE NEW YORK TIMES.]

LONDON, Monday, May 10.—Survivors of the Lusitania arriving in London yesterday from Queenstown told some of their tragic experiences to THE NEW YORK TIMES correspondent.

They forcibly expressed the opinion that the Lusitania was badly handled in being run into waters where it was known submarines were waiting. Although not for a moment attempting to shift the blame from the "murderous Germans" for the sinking of a ship full of innocent passengers, they insisted that the officers of the steamship, knowing that submarines were lurking off the Irish coast, ought to have taken a different path to avoid all danger....

George A. Kessler of New York, in an interview, gave the following description of the Lusitania sinking and of preliminary incidents aboard:

"On Wednesday I saw the crew taking tarpaulins from the boats, and I went up to the Purser and said:

"'It's all right drilling your crew, but why don't you drill your passengers?'

"The Purser said he thought it was a good idea, and added, 'Why not tell Captain Turner, Sir?'

"The next day I had a conversation with the Captain, and to him suggested that the passengers should receive tickets, each with a number denoting the number of the boat he should make for in case anything untoward happened. I added that this detail would minimize difficulties in the event of trouble.

"The Captain replied that this suggestion was made after the disaster to the Titanic. The Cunard people had thought it over and considered it impracticable. He added that, of course, he could not act on the advice given, because he should first have the authority of the Board of Trade.

"I talked with the Captain generally about the torpedo scare, which neither of us regarded as of any moment. The Captain (you understand, of course, that we were smoking and chatting) explained his plans to me. He said that they were then slowing down, (in fact, we were going only about eighteen knots,) and that the ship would be slowed down until they got somewhere further on the voyage, and then they would go at all speed and get over the war zone.

"I asked him what the war zone was, and he said 500 miles from Liverpool.

"According to the next day's run, ending about two hours before the mishap occurred, we were about 380 or 390 miles from Liverpool. So we were in the war zone, and we were going only at a speed of eighteen knots at the critical moment.

"For the two days previous, as well as I remember, the mileage was 506 and 501, and on Thursday the mileage was 488. On Friday I was playing bridge when the pool was put up on the day's run and I heard twenty numbers go from 480 to 499. I thought it would be a grand speculation to buy the lowest number, as we were going so slow. I did buy it, and paid $100. The amount in the pool was between $300 and $350, and when the pool was declared, I was the winner.

"The steward offered to hand over the money if I would go to his cabin, but I said that he could pay me later.

"Shortly after the steward had left me I was on the upper deck and looking out to sea. I saw all at once the wash of a torpedo, indicated by a snake-like churn of the surface of the water. It may have been about thirty feet away. And then came a thud."

Mr. Kessler told of the general rush for the deck and the second explosion. Then he continued:

"Mr. Berth and his wife, from New York, first-class passengers, were the last ones I spoke to. I should say that all the passengers in the dining saloon had come up on deck. The upper deck was crowded, and, of course, the passengers were wondering what was the matter, few really believing what it proved to be. Still they began to lower boats, and then things began to happen very quickly.

"Mr. Berth was trying to persuade his wife to get into a boat. She said she would not do so without him. He said, 'Oh, come along, my darling; I will be all right,' and I added to his persuasions.

"I saw him help her into the boat with the ropes of the davits. I fell into the same boat, and we were slipped down into the water over the side of the liner, which was bulging out, the list being the other way. The boat struck the water, and after some seconds (it may have been a minute) I looked up and cried out, 'My God, the Lusitania is gone!'

"We saw the entire bulk, which had been almost upright just a few seconds before, suddenly lurch over away from us. Then she seemed to stand upright in the water, and the next instant the keel of the vessel caught the keel of the boat in which we were floating, and we were thrown into the water. There were only about thirty people in the boat, and I should say that all were stokers or third-class passengers. There may have been one or two first class; I cannot recall who they were.

"When the boat was overturned I sank fifteen or twenty feet. I thought I was gone. However, I had my lifebelt around me, and managed to rise again to the surface. There I floated for possibly ten or fifteen minutes, when I saw and made a grab at a collapsible lifeboat at which other passengers were also grabbing. We managed to get it shipshape and clamber in. There were eight or nine in the boat, all stokers except one or two third-class passengers.

"It was partly filled with water and in the scramble which occurred the boat was overturned, and once more we were pitched into the water. This occurred, I should say, eight times, the boat usually righting itself. Before we were picked up by the Bluebell six of the party of eight or nine were lying drowned in the bilge water which was in the bottom."

When asked what he thought the effect of the sinking would be on the United States, Mr. Kessler answered:

"My God! what can America do? Nothing will bring back these people to life.

"It was cold-blooded, deliberate murder, and nothing else—the greatest murder the world has ever known. How will going to war mend that?"

To the question whether the loss of the liner could have been avoided, Mr. Kessler said slowly:

"That is a very serious question, and I hesitate to give an opinion on matters which are purely technical.

"Still, it seems to me as a landsman, and one who has crossed the ocean a great many times, that the safety of the Lusitania lay in speed. We were in the war zone by 140 or 150 miles, and every moment that we dawdled at fifteen or eighteen knots was an increase of our risk of being torpedoed.

"Again, (and of course I merely make the comment,) I cannot understand why there were no destroyers or patrol boats about, as we certainly had been led to expect there would be when we reached the war zone.

"The ship was torpedoed at 2:05 P.M. My watch stopped at 2:30. It was 5 o'clock when I was picked up by the Bluebell, and it was 10 o'clock before we were landed in Queenstown."

CHARLES FROHMAN'S DEATH.

[Special Cable to THE NEW YORK TIMES.]

LONDON, May 10.—A highly interesting story was told tonight by Rita Jolivet, the actress, who stood calmly chatting with Charles Frohman and Alfred G. Vanderbilt during the last tense moments before the Lusitania sank. The three of them, together with G.L.S. Vernon, Miss Jolivet's brother-in-law, and Mr. Scott, who had come all the way from Japan to enlist, joined hands and stood waiting to face death together. Miss Jolivet said:

We stood talking about the Germans and the rumor which had gained currency that a man, obviously of German origin, had been arrested for tampering with the wireless. The story was that the man had been discovered at 1 o'clock in the morning a day or two before doing something to the wireless apparatus and had been immediately imprisoned. I did not see the man arrested, so I am not sure about the story's truth, but there were good grounds for believing it.

We determined not to enter the boats, and just a minute or two before the end Mr. Frohman said with a smile: "Why fear death? It is the most beautiful adventure that life gives us."

Mr. Scott fetched three lifebelts, one for Mr. Vanderbilt, one for Mr. Frohman, and one for my brother-in-law. He said he was not going to wear one himself, and my brother-in-law also refused to put his on. I hear that Mr. Vanderbilt gave his to a lady, Mrs. Scott. I helped to put a lifebelt on Mr. Frohman. My brother-in-law took hold of my hand and I grasped the hand of Mr. Frohman, who, as you know, was lame. Mr. Scott took hold of his other hand, and Mr. Vanderbilt joined the row, too. We had made up our minds to die together.

Then Mr. Frohman, in a perfectly calm voice, said: "They've done for us; we had better get out." He knew that his beautiful adventure was about to begin. He had hardly spoken when, with a tremendous roar, a great wave swept along the deck and we were all divided in a moment. I have not seen any of those brave men alive since. Mr. Frohman, Mr. Vanderbilt, and my brother-in-law were drowned. When Mr. Frohman's body was recovered there was the most beautiful and peaceful smile upon his lips.

VANDERBILT'S HEROIC END.

[Special Cable to THE NEW YORK TIMES.]

LONDON, May 9.—Two survivors of the Lusitania disaster have given testimony that Alfred G. Vanderbilt died heroically; that he went to death to save the life of a woman.

Thomas Slidell, a friend of Mr. Vanderbilt, who lives at the Knickerbocker Club in New York, and was traveling with him, told of the sacrifice first. Then tonight Norman Ratcliffe, who lives in Gillingham, Kent, and was returning from Japan, offered verification. Mr. Ratcliffe was rescued, after clinging to a box in the sea for three hours. With him was a steward of the Lusitania. He said:

This steward told me he had seen Mr. Vanderbilt on the Lusitania's deck, shortly after the ship was struck, with a lifebelt about his body. When the ship gave every indication that it would sink within a few minutes, the steward said, Mr. Vanderbilt took off his lifebelt and gave it to a woman who passed him on the deck, trembling with fear of the fate she expected to meet. The steward said Mr. Vanderbilt turned back, as though to look for another belt, and he saw him no more.

Telling of his last moments on the ship and his last sight of Mr. Vanderbilt, Mr. Slidell said:

I saw Alfred G. Vanderbilt only a few minutes before I left the ship. He was standing with a lifebelt in his hand. A woman came up to him, and I saw him place the belt around the woman. He had none for himself, and I know that he could not swim.

Only the day before we had been talking of a day and a dawn some years ago when we went down the bay at New York in his yacht and waited to welcome and dip our flag to the Lusitania on her maiden voyage. We saw the first and last of her. Vanderbilt, who had given largely to the Red Cross, was returning to England in order to offer a fleet of wagons and himself as driver to the Red Cross Society, for he said he felt every day that he was not doing enough.

KLEIN AND HUBBARD LOST.

Oliver O. Bernard, scenic artist of Covent Garden, said:

Only one or two of the shining marks which disasters at sea seem invariably to involve have lived to tell the Lusitania's tale. Vanderbilt, the sportsman, is gone. Genial Charles Klein, the playwright, is gone. That erratic American literary genius, Elbert Hubbard, is gone, and with him a wife to whom he seemed particularly devoted. And Charles Frohman is gone.

Frohman's was the only body I could recognize in the Queenstown mortuary, and perhaps it will interest his many friends in London and New York to know that the famous manager's face in death gives uncommonly convincing evidence that he died without a struggle. It wears a serenely peaceful look.

Frohman must have found it more difficult for him to take his place in a lifeboat than any other man on the ship. He was quite lame, and hobbled about on deck laboriously with a heavy cane. He seldom came to the general dining saloon, either out of sensitiveness or because of distress caused by his leg.

I last saw Alfred G. Vanderbilt standing at the port entrance to the grand saloon. He stood there the personification of sportsmanlike coolness. In his right hand was grasped what looked to me like a large purple leather jewel case. It may have belonged to Lady Mackworth, as Mr. Vanderbilt had been much in company of the Thomas party during the trip, and evidently had volunteered to do Lady Mackworth the service of saving her gems for her. Mr. Vanderbilt was absolutely unperturbed. In my eyes, he was the figure of a gentleman waiting unconcernedly for a train. He had on a dark striped suit, and was without cap or other head covering.