Confused and dazed passengers, some in nightclothes, others who had been heading to their cabins after a last night of celebrating, struggled in the passageways. The staircase, which ran across the ship wasn't easy to ascend. Well waxed for the morning disembarkation and now tipped at a crazy angle, it would have been impossible to climb without handrails. Glass from smashed doors covered the stairs, and somehow they were oily.
The Hollyer's struggled up toward the cabin-class ballroom on the promenade, thier assigned muster station. They were among the first from below to reach the ballroom, but there were many people who had been there partying, and some of them clung to pillars dazed. A befuddled woman in an evening gown who still couldn't grasp what was happening giggled at Louise in her dishabille and sneered, "How disgusting." Louise suddenly aware of scanty attire, ducked behind a column and struggled into David's suit, rolling up the pants legs and the jacket sleeves and strapping her lifejacket over it. Sliding on their backsides on the sharply slanting floor, they made their way outside to the starboard rail. They could tell something had smashed the side of the ship but didn't know what. They crawled on their hands and knees up the steeply slanting, highly polished ballroom floor across broken glass, debris from the bar and scattered instruments from the bandstand and finally reached the high (port) side of the promenade deck. They climbed outside to join a crowd of confused and frightened passengers.
Two priests, one of whom was Father Kelly was credited with preventing the spread of panic. He gave everyone general absolution and said an Act of Contrition for them. Sister Marie Raymond and Sister Callistus Arnsby knelt with the passengers and recited the Rosary aloud.
The Porporino family made it topside. A crew member noticed that Santino Porporino was only wearing his boxer shorts and he ripped a drape out of a First Class cabin so Santino could wrap it around himself.
The Moscatiello family made their way to the upper deck and waited. Luigi noticed two boys ready to jump overboard and talked them out of it. His brother, Michael, hadn't eaten in six days because of being seasick, he was so weak he couldn't stand.
With the ship's engines stilled an eerie silence prevailed in the fog. Because it was so difficult to stand or move about, passengers sat on the deck with their backs against a bulkhead and waited and waited, and waited. For something: news, information, announcements, or instructions. Finally the ship's public address system crackled to life. Miraculously it was still functioning. They all stilled to listen, but the message in Italian merely said. "Will the engine room crew report to pump stations." Nothing more. No instructions. No news.
Time passed slowly as passengers chatted with their neighbors. One passenger observed. "Our folks at home probably all know exactly what has happened to us. They'll have heard it on the radio by now." He was right. The group was joined shortly by a passenger with a portable radio. A New York station's newscast announced "a collision between the Stockholm and Andrea Doria 45 miles at sea has torn a tremendous hole in the starboard side of the Andrea Doria hull. Several ships in the vicinity are rushing toward the stricken liner. And then a professor at Massachusetts Institute of Technology was on the air: "Due to its unique construction and its many watertight bulkheads, the Andrea Doria is considered unsinkable." The passengers cheered in relief at this encouraging news. It occurred to them then that they might have to leave the ship. Still, some, felt no sense of real danger. The Andrea Doria couldn't sink; if an evacuation was ordered it would just be a precaution.
On the high side of promenade deck, the passengers heard noises overhead and looked up to see a group of Italian Line deckhands trying to release a lifeboat. The ship was listing so badly however, that the davits from which the lifeboats were suspended were angled upwards. The boats, could not possibly slide off the davits as designed and be lowered to the promenade deck for passengers. "That wipes out eight of our lifeboats," exclaimed Louise Hollyer.
Prayers were being were being answered, the fog began to lift, the moon came out and the water was calm. Hope filled the survivors as the rescue ships began to arrive.
The Cape Ann was two miles away from the Andrea Doria when Captain Boyd ordered the engines to slow. Even with Radar it is dangerous to approach the collision scene at full speed. At about a quarter mile he could make out the lights of the Andrea Doria as the fog began to lift.
Doria to Cape Ann: NEED LIFEBOATS NOW. MANY
PASSENGERS IN WATER.
Cape Ann to Doria: WE ARE READYING, 240 DEGREES. I SEE YOU.
At 12:45 am, he ordered lifeboat number 2 lowered under the command of Chief Officer Roy Fields and at 12:55 am, lifeboat number 1 was lowered under the command of Second Officer John Jensen.
Cape Ann to Doria: WE ARE LAUNCHING BOATS.
Doria: THANK YOU.
These were the only two lifeboats and
each contained seven
men. By 1:00 am the fog lifted completely reducing the chance of more
collisions. Easing the ship within a eighth of a mile Captain Boyd could there
were no other rescue ships in sight, he was the first rescue ship on the scene.
Captain Boyd later remarked, "I looked on helpless as my lifeboats began
loading passengers. I felt sure that in a few minutes I was going to see a
thousand people go down and it would be another "Night to Remember".
Captain Boyd ordered the two gangways lowered and rigged, boat ropes strung
along the side and all available ladders hung over the sides. The steward was
instructed to get coffee and sandwiches ready, to open the staterooms and have
all available blankets at hand.
With the radar working perfectly, the ship raced
through the fog at twenty two knots, the Ile de France was would arrive
shortly.
1:05 am Ile de France to Cape Ann: VESSELS NEAR THE SCENE. WE SHALL BE AT
AREA AT 1:45 AM. WHAT CAN I DO TO HELP?
1:12 am Cape Ann to Ile de France: WE HAVE DISPATCHED TWO LIFEBOATS.
Cape Ann to Andrea Doria: WE HAVE ARRIVED AND ARE BETWEEN THE TWO SHIPS. WE
HAVE LAUNCHED BOATS. THEY ARE COMING TO YOU. YOU PLAY LIGHTS ON.
The USNS Pvt. William H. Thomas arrived at 1:23 am and visibility had improved to three miles.
1:35 am Stockholm to Andrea Doria: WE ARE
LAUNCHING ALL AVAILABLE LIFEBOATS
1:53 am Manaqui to Andrea Doria: WILL ARRIVE
YOURS 0900 GMT (5AM EDT). HAVE TWO LIFEBOATS.
As the Ile de France arrived on the scene Captain de Beaudean was able to make out the shapes of the two stricken vessels and the William H. Thomas and Cape Ann. There were already twelve lifeboats in the water and the captain saw the Andrea Doria listing by forty degrees to starboard with the gash on her side. By shear luck the fog began to lift and the Ile de France was able to position herself about four hundred yards from the Andrea Doria. It was about 2 am when the Ile de France lit up her lights and lowered her lifeboats from both sides of the ship. To the people waiting for help, a miracle appeared, the blazing letters "Ile de France" lit up the night.