The bow sinks closer to the surface.
Monday, April 15, 1912 - 1:20 a.m.
Elizabeth Shutes, First Class Passenger:
"Our lifeboat, with 36 in it, began lowering to the sea. This was
done amid the greatest confusion. Rough seamen all giving different orders.
No officer aboard. As only one side of the ropes worked, the lifeboat at one
time was in such a position that it seemed we must
capsize in mid-air. At last the ropes worked together, and we
drew nearer and nearer the black, oily water. The first touch of our lifeboat
on that black sea came to me as a last good bye to life, and so we put
off - a tiny boat on a great sea - rowed away from what had been a safe
home for five days. The first wish on the part of all was to stay near the
Titanic. We all felt so much safer near the ship. Surely such a vessel
could not sink. I thought the danger must be exaggerated, and we could all
be taken aboard again. But surely the outline of that great, good ship
was growing less. The bow of the boat was getting black. Light after light
was disappearing ..."
© Paul Quinn 1996 - All contents of these pages.