Captain Titus, who was on the upper deck at the time of the explosion, rushed to the ladies’ cabin to obtain the life-preservers, of which there were about one hundred on board; but, so violent was the heat, he found it impossible to enter the cabin.  He returned to the upper deck, on his way giving orders to the engineer to stop the engine, the wind and the headway of the boat increasing the fierceness of the flames and driving them aft.  The engineer replied, that in consequence of the flames he could not reach the engine.  The steersman was instantly directed to put the helm hard a-starboard.  She swung slowly around, heading to the shore, and the boats—­there were three on board—­were then ordered to be lowered.  Two of the boats were lowered, but, in consequence of the heavy sea on, and the headway of the vessel, they both swamped as soon as they touched the water.

We will not attempt to describe the awful and appalling condition of the passengers.  Some were frantic with fear and horror, others plunged headlong madly into the water, others again seized upon any thing buoyant upon which they could lay hands.  The small boat forward had been lowered.  It was alongside the wheel, with three or four persons in it, when the captain jumped in, and the boat immediately dropped astern, filled with water.  A lady floated by with a life-preserver on.  She cried for help.  There was no safety in the boat.  The captain threw her the only oar in the boat.  She caught the oar and was saved.  It was Mrs. Lynde of Milwaukie, and she was the only lady who escaped.

In this condition, the boat, a mass of fierce fire, and the passengers and crew endeavoring to save themselves by swimming or supporting themselves by whatever they could reach, they were found by the steamboat Clinton, at about ten o’clock that night.  The Clinton had left Buffalo in the morning, but, in consequence of the wind, had put into Dunkirk.  She lay there till near sunset, at which time she ran out, and had proceeded as far as Barcelona, when just at twilight the fire of the Erie was discovered, some twenty miles astern.  The Clinton immediately put about, and reached the burning wreck.

It was a fearful sight.  All the upper works of the Erie had been burned away.  The engine was standing, but the hull was a mass of dull, red flames.  The passengers and crew were floating around, screaming in their agony, and shrieking for help.  The boats of the Clinton were instantly lowered and manned, and every person that could be seen or heard was picked up, and every possible relief afforded.  The Lady, a little steamboat lying at Dunkirk, went out of that harbor as soon as possible, after the discovery of the fire, and arrived soon after the Clinton.  By one o’clock in the morning, all was still except the melancholy crackling of the flames.  Not a solitary individual could be seen or heard on the wild waste of waters.  A line was then made fast to the remains of the Erie’s rudder, and an effort made to tow the hapless hulk ashore.  About this time the Chautauque came up and lent her assistance.