they had been thrown from the ship's deck when she
sank; they were human beings and so were picked up and saved.

"WOMEN AND CHILDREN FIRST"

The one alleviating circumstance in the otherwise immitigable tragedy
is the fact that so many of the men stood aside really with out the
necessity for the order, "Women and children first," and insisted that
the weaker sex should first have places in the boats.

There were men whose word of command swayed boards of directors,
governed institutions, disposed of millions. They were accustomed merely
to pronounce a wish to have it gratified. Thousands "posted at their
bidding"; the complexion of the market altered hue when they nodded;
they bought what they wanted, and for one of the humblest fishing smacks
or a dory they could have given the price that was paid to build and
launch the ship that has become the most imposing mausoleum that ever
housed the bones of men since the Pyramids rose from the desert sands.

But these men stood aside--one can see them!--and gave place not merely
to the delicate and the refined, but to the scared Czech woman from the
steerage, with her baby at her breast; the Croatian with a toddler by
her side, coming through the very gate of Death and out of the mouth of
Hell to the imagined Eden of America.

To many of those who went it was harder to go than to stay there on the
vessel gaping with its mortal wounds and ready to go down. It meant that
tossing on the waters they must wait in suspense, hour after hour even
after the lights of the ship were engulfed in appalling darkness, hoping
against hope for the miracle of a rescue dearer to them than their own
lives.

It was the tradition of Anglo-Saxon heroism that was fulfilled in the
frozen seas during the black hours of Sunday night. The heroism was that
of the women who went, as well as of the men who remained!

CHAPTER VII. LEFT TO THEIR FATE

COOLNESS AND HEROISM OF THOSE LEFT TO PERISH--SUICIDE OF
MURDOCK--CAPTAIN SMITH'S END--THE SHIP'S BAND PLAYS A NOBLE HYMN AS THE
VESSEL GOES DOWN

THE general feeling aboard the ship after the boats had left her
sides was that she would not survive her wound, but the passengers who
remained aboard displayed the utmost heroism.

William T. Stead, the famous English journalist, was so litt{l}e alarmed
that he calmly discussed with one of the passengers the probable height
of the iceberg after the Titanic had shot into it.

Confidence in the abil