Among the first of the survivors to be interviewed by the Pressmen was a tall, pale-faced young lady, neatly dressed in black. She was Miss Alice Phillips, of Ilfracombe, age about twenty, and she told the reporters with tears in her eyes that her father had gone down with the ill-fated liner.
“I was in the cabin,” she said, “When all at once there was a tremendous shock. Naturally I was dreadfully frightened, and at once ran outside. Just beyond the doorway I met the cabin steward, and asked him what had happened, but he assured me that there was nothing wrong. Everything was all right, he said, and advised me to go back to the cabin.
“I could not understand it, and felt there must be something amiss, but I listened to his advice, and, with many doubts, went back to the cabin.
“Then I heard shouts and the sounds of general confusion on the deck, and determined to at least see what was being done for myself. Without a moment’s further hesitation I rushed to the upper deck, and no sooner had I got there than someone picked me up and put me into one of the lifeboats.
“There was already a large number of other women and children in the boat, and I had not been iin it a few moments, and did not even fully understand what was the matter, when it was pushed off into darkness.”
“That was the last I saw of the “Titanic,” and I shall never see my poor father again.”
Miss Phillips turned away deeply moved with the recital of her trial.