It was a Thursday when Titanic survivor and Atlanta native May Furelle arrived in Atlanta to tell her story. It had only been two weeks since the harrowing ordeal that took the life of her husband, noted Sci-Fi novelist Jacques Fuelle. Here is the account of that faithful night in her own words.
We had been in Europe for several weeks while Jacques wrote a number of magazine articles. The night before we sailed, friends gathered in London to celebrate Jacques 's birthday. The party didn't end until 3:00 in the morning and so we never went to bed, just packed and headed for Southampton. You know thinking back, if Jacques had got drunk that night, we might not have sailed, and he might be alive today. But he never did drink much. We boarded the Titanic and were shone to our stateroom on C deck, 123 I believe. I expressed my concerns to Jacques, about sailing on the maiden voyage. He replied "It would never be safer, I trust the company and officers of this boat." The idea of criminal carelessness in the matter of the lifeboats never entered our heads. How could they take such a chance? Also, I heard they were trying to break the speed record on the crossing. That unforgettable night started off exquisitely, with dinner in a most luxurious dining saloon. There was an orchestra playing and the tables were crowded with wealthy men in formal wear and gorgeous, bejeweled women wearing expensive Parisian gowns. After some dancing and late night conversation with friends, we retired to our stateroom and were preparing for bed when we felt "a slight concussion" a shock wave that traveled the length of the ship. When I asked Jacques what had happened, he replied: "Oh, I guess it's nothing. We have simply bumped into a baby iceberg. If that's what it is, it won't bother the Titanic any more than if it had struck a match." Despite Jacques's reassurances, I became alarmed and insisted that he investigate whether anything serious had happened. We crossed the hall to our friends; the Harris and I stayed with Mrs. Harris, as the men went up on deck to see what was the matter. They were back in just a few minutes and soon after an officer came by to tell us to dress warmly and to put on a life belt. Other than that, no alarm was given. In a moment we understood that the situation was desperate, that the compartments had refused to hold back the rush of the water. As we made our way to the boat deck, I had a chilling encountered a group of men with "smoke-blackened faces" standing silently in a group staring at me. They said nothing but their eyes seemed to say, 'at least you have a chance, we have none. An officer stopped us on A deck, just below the boat deck, to wait our turn to get off. Some boats had already pushed off, it was later rumored that Bruce Ismay (president of the ship line), along with Lord Duff Gordon, hired some stokers to man a lifeboat and get them safely away. A woman passenger later said, "As Ismay climbed into the boat, an officer cursed at him to get out are be shot, Ismay replied, “shoot I have only one time to die." When the time came for launching the lifeboats there was little order or discipline. The crew and officers did their best, but it was poor. The boats were sent out without being full; the crews were not selected; many of the stewards and cooks slipped in against orders. I reached the boat deck, I saw Colonel (John Jacob) Astor helping his wife into lifeboat #4 and stepping back as it launched, also on that boat were Mrs. Wilder, Mrs. Thayer, Mrs. Ryerson, her daughters and son and others whom I knew. I threw my arms around Jacques, kissed him and told him that I would not leave him. But Jacques persuaded me to enter the lifeboat and then left. As the boat was about to be lowed, I decided I couldn't leave my beloved husband, so I leaped out and went below deck to find him. I found him and we hugged and kissed for what would be the last time. He took me back to the lifeboats and again directed me to get into one of the boats, reminding me of the children. He assured me, that when the ship sank he would survive by clinging to one of the lifeboats until he was picked up. As he pushed me toward a lifeboat and I began to hesitate, he shouted: "For God's sake, go! It's your last chance, go!"Then an officer forced me into the lifeboat, and at that moment I gave up hope that he could be saved." Lifeboat No. 16, in which I escaped, was, like many of the ship's boats, only half-filled with four women from first class and eight from second class, only twelve women, while there were eighteen men and seventeen of the crew.None of them were oarsman or sailors; they were stewards and cooks. The last I saw of my husband, he was standing beside Colonel Astor, Mr. Harris and Mr. Hoyt. He had a cigarette in his mouth. As I watched him, he lit a match and held it in his cupped hands before his face. By its light I could see his eyes roam anxiously over the water. Then he dropped his head toward his hands and lit his cigarette.... I know those hands never trembled. Eighteen boats in all were launched, as I watched the last one being lowered, the crew ran away leaving in it suspended in air. Someone took hold and lowered it down, I believe it was our men, for a few minutes later Mr. Hoyt leaped into the water and was found almost frozen after eight minutes. The boats stood away from the Titanic as it sunk low in the water, only looming up as a dark mass before us. The lights shining through the port holes. Suddenly it lifted on end and plunged down, the light going out as if someone had turned a switch, then two explosions and it was over. As we rowed to get away from the suction, I became conscious of a moan over the sea. It was not a scream of pain, only a moan that swept out from where the ship had gone down. It lasted but a few minutes, but it seemed like hours. Then there was silence; it’s at this time I started observing everything closely, because I thought myself dead. We had no water, only a small amount of bread, no compass or charts to steer with. We were told that a wireless had been sent, but it was not known if it had been received. So none of us were expecting to live, when the Carpathia pick us up at about 6:30. Being rescued from the jaws of death, by the Carpathia, meant a realization of my grief, of the scope of the tragedy, which had taken place. Then on deck of the Carpathia seeing women reuniting with their husbands made me realize it all the more.
Later in 1912, May Furelle had Jacques' last work, "My Lady's Garter", published. She inscribed in the book, "To the heroes of the Titanic, I dedicate this my husband's book."
She later returned to the home Jacques had built for her in Scituate, Massachusetts were she died at the age of 91.
