“Presently we heard the order, ‘All men stand back,’ and all lowered and rowed away into the night. Presently the word went around among the men, ‘The men are to be put in boats on the starboard side.’ I was on the port side and most of the men walked across the deck to see if this was so. Presently I heard the call, ‘Any more ladies?’ “Looking over the side of the ship I saw boat No. 13 swinging level with B deck, half full of women. I saw no more come, and one of the crew said then: ‘You’d better jump.’ I dropped in and fell in the bottom as they cried ‘lower away.’” Beasely said that the lifeboat was nearly two miles away from the Titanic less than two hours later, when they made out that the great liner was sinking. SHIP APPARENTLY BREAKS IN TWO. Other survivors who were nearer to the sinking liner told of hearing the strains of “Nearer, My God, to Thee” played as the liner sank, and some of those in the lifeboats blended their voices in the melody. Suddenly there was a mighty roar and the ship, already half submerged, was seen to buckle and apparently break in two by the force of an explosion caused when the water reached the hot boilers. The bow sank first and for fully five minutes the stern was poised almost vertically in the air, when suddenly it plunged out of sight. With the last hope gone of seeing their loved ones alive, many women in the lifeboats seemed to be indifferent whether they were saved or not. They were nearly 1000 miles from land and had no knowledge that a ship of succor was speeding to them. Without provisions or water, there seemed little hope of surviving long in the bitter cold. There were sixteen boats in the forlorn procession which entered upon the terrible hours of suspense. The confidence that the big ship, on which they had started across the sea, was sure to bring them safely here was now turned to utter helplessness. But the shock of learning that their lives were in peril was hardly greater than the relief when, at dawn, a large steamer’s stacks were seen on the horizon, and eager eyes soon made out that the vessel was making for the scene. The rescue ship proved to be the Carpathia, which had received the Titanic’s distress signals by wireless. By 7 o’clock in the morning all the Titanic’s sixteen boats had been picked up and their chilled and hungry occupants welcomed over the Carpathia’s side. The Carpathia’s passengers, who were bound for a Mediterranean cruise, showed every consideration for the stricken, and many gave up their cabins that the shipwrecked might be made comfortable. The rescued were in all conditions of dress and undress, and the women on the Carpathia vied with one another in supplying missing garments. On the four days’ cruise back to New York many, who had realized that their experiences would be waited by an anxious world, put their narratives to paper while their nerves were still at a tension from the excitement of the disaster they had barely escaped.