Mr. Sloan, it would seem, went down with his vessel, and it is believed stuck to his post to the last, caring for the oil engines that ran the dynamos for the ship's lights and telephones. Had the lights gone out before they did---and they were shining till a few moments before the Titanic plunged beneath the waves---the horror of the disaster would have been far greater than it was.
Miss Weir is almost prostrated at the news of her affianced's death, though she feels yet that he might possibly have been saved by some fishing vessel. When the bodies recovered by the Mackay-Bennett come to New York she will try to see if that of her lover is among them.
Mr. Sloan had been employed by the White Star Line for several year [sic], and prior to be assigned to the Titanic just after her launch in Belfast several months ago, was second electrician of her sister ship, Olympic. He was elated over his new position on the Titanic, which was a promotion, and was proud of being on the largest and finest vessel afloat. He had visited this city several times, and wrote that he was bringing over to Miss Weir several Christmas gifts. Mr. Sloan was a fine manly man just in his thirties, a graduate of an English college, and an all around athlete and swimmer. He had won several medals for swimming, and this fact leads Miss Weir, "hoping against hope," to think he may have some way kept afloat and been saved. Had he been rescued, however, by the Carpathia, he would undoubtedly have communicated with his friends here. His name does not appear upon the lists of the survivors.
Mr. Sloan was born in Scotland, but his parents died when he was a child and he had no immediate relatives living. That he died like a hero---if he is dead---is Miss Weir's conviction, and that is the conviction of all who know the young man whose prospects in life were so bright less than ten days ago.