PASSENGERS NOT ALARMED

The blasting shriek of the sirens had not alarmed the great
company of the Titanic, because such steam calls are an incident
of travel in seas where fogs roll. Many had gone
to bed, but the hour, 11.40 P. M., was not too late for the
friendly contact of saloons and smoking rooms. It was
Sunday night and the ship's concert had ended, but there were
many hundreds up and moving among the gay lights, and
many on deck with their eyes strained toward the mysterious
west, where home lay. And in one jarring, breath-sweeping
moment all of these, asleep or awake, were at the mercy of
chance. Few among the more than 2000 aboard could have
had a thought of danger. The man who had stood up in the
smoking room to say that the Titanic was vulnerable or that
in a few minutes two-thirds of her people would be face to
face with death, would have been considered a fool or a
lunatic. No ship ever sailed the seas that gave her passengers
more confidence, more cool security.

Within a few minutes stewards and other members of the
crew were sent round to arouse the people. Some utterly
refused to get up. The stewards had almost to force the doors
of the staterooms to make the somnolent appreciate their
peril, and many of them, it is believed, were drowned like
rats in a trap.


ASTOR AND WIFE STROLLED ON DECK