Her wit, and her complexion as fine as on that April day in 1912 when she got into the last lifeboat to leave the sinking Titanic, Mrs Margaret O'Reilly, a summer, resident of Route 6, Slate Hill, recalled yesterday the great sea disaster that took a toll of 1517 lives. 

Mrs O'Reilly resides at 303 E. 30th Street, New York City, with Mr and Mrs Peter McCabe, her son-in-law and daughter.  The McCabes spend every summer at their place near Merritt's Orchards, and Mrs O'Reilly, as well as the McCabe's only child, Jo-Anne, 9, spend it with them. 

(A survivor of the ill-fated Andrea Doria, 30,000 ton, Italian line luxury liner, which sank in the Atlantic Thursday. After a collision, is Rosario Fratto, 48, of Chester, Rosario resides at the home of his brother, John. Mrs O'Reilly has never met Rosario, but "I know how he felt, she says.")

A native of the county Longford, Mrs O'Reilly, the former Margaret Murphy, and her sister, Katherine (Mrs Katherine Guilfoyle, Brooklyn, N.Y.) Were both on the maiden voyage of the White Star liner.

They boarded the Titanic at Queenstown. Both were saved, holding hands in the crowded lifeboat, and with Margaret, a colleen of 16 tender years [sic, she was 25!] and Catherine, two years younger, or more, both praying like mad to St. Anthony. 

Recalls panic.

They felt that perhaps they shouldn't have gone in the first place. They already had four members of the family in America and their mother had said "that's enough of you leaving Ireland." So, for several weeks, they had packed their trunks on the sly out in the barn. The night they left they went to a dance in a nearby village, came back with a wagon and stole away to America on the most beautiful boat in the world, the Titanic, the pride of the British merchant Marine. 

There were many young people on the boat from Ireland, and many from her own country [sic]. One reason why it's painful to recall the sinking is all of these young men were lost. Of the 2207 persons on board, 690 were saved. Many lifeboats left the ship, only half loaded, as utter panic, in some cases, dominated the action. 

Mrs O'Reilly recalls she hardly felt the actual collision between the ship and the iceberg, but soon after several of her compatriots came and told her there was water in their rooms.

Last to get away.

She and her sister were pushed about the deck, and she recalls the band playing "Nearer My God to Thee."  The sisters finally got into a lifeboat, the next to last to leave. The last boat away was sunk by suction from the sinking giant, leaving her about the last to successfully get away.

Hearing screams and outcries, she asked one of the two men in the boat, what it was. He replied, evasively, telling her it was only people on the other side of the boat, trying to direct lifeboats by calls for help. Actually, she learned later, the cries were the doomed voices of those unable to get near lifeboat areas on the boat either because of blocked passageways or the doors bolted to prevent water going between compartments.

Seeing he was talking to two small and frightened "greenhorns," the sailor in the boat also evasively answered the next question. They wanted to know what all the icebergs were around the area. He told them the icebergs were 'hedges' "and we being kind of young believed him," Margaret said. 

Penniless on arrival.

She was praying to Saint Anthony and wanted to make him a promise if he saved her life. The biggest thing she could think of in the world at that moment was twenty dollars. She would give $20 to the poor fund of the church in the saint's name if she lived.  Ten hours later, they were on the Carpathia, a rescue ship. She and her sister soon arrived in America, but without a cent to their names. Fortunately, she had a brother and three sisters already here.

She married in 1913 to Matthew O'Reilly. They went home to Ireland on their honeymoon to ask her folks pardon for running away like that. To put it mildly, they were glad to see her live and well. 

When the little family began to prosper, she put $20 in the postbox at church one day. Soon, the parish priest was asking, "who was so generous?". It was a great moment for a kind of joke. Her husband let it be known she had given the saint the $20 "because she was glad she got such a good man for a husband." That was something hard to deny. We asked her whether she plays the Irish Sweeps. She replied, with a merry, toss of her head, and a twinkle in her eyes, "Sure, I do. But I've never had any luck!"