d whine of the
ropes and pulleys, and the gay music of the band, which Captain Smith
had ordered to play during the embarkation. Every now and then a woman
would be forced away from her husband; every now and then a husband,
having got into a boat with his wife, would be made to get out of it
again. If it was hard for the wives to go, it was harder for the
husbands to see them go to such certain discomfort and in such strange
company. Colonel Astor, whose young wife was in a delicate state of
health, had got into the boat with her to look after her; and no wonder.
But he was ordered out again and came at once, no doubt feeling
bitterly, poor soul, that he would have given many of his millions to be
able to go honourably with her. But he stepped back without a word of
remonstrance and gave her good-bye with a cheery message, promising to
meet her in New York. And if that happened to him, we may be sure it was
happening over and over again in other boats. There were women who
flatly refused to leave their husbands and chose to stay with them and
risk whatever fate might be in store for them, although at that time
most of the people did not really believe that there was much danger.
Yet here and there there were incidents both touching and heroic. When
it came to the turn of Mrs. Isidore Straus, the wife of a Jewish
millionaire, she took her seat but got back out of the boat when she
found her husband was not coming. They were both old people, and on two
separate occasions an Englishman who knew her tried to persuade her to
get into a boat, but she would not leave her husband. The second time
the boat was not full and he went to Mr. Straus and said: "Do go with
your wife. Nobody can object to an old gentleman like you going. There
is plenty of room in the boat." The old gentleman thanked him calmly and
said: "I won't go before the other men." And Mrs. Straus got out and,
going up to him, said: "We have been together for forty years and we
will not separate now." And she remained by his side until that happened
to them which happened to the rest.

XI

We must now go back to the Marconi room on the upper deck where, ten
minutes after the collision, Captain Smith had left the operators with
orders to send out a call for assistance. From this Marconi room we get
a strange but vivid aspect of the situation; for Bride, the surviving
operator, who afterwards told the story so graphically to the _New York
Times_, practic