back
The
Sailing of the Ill Fated Steamship Titanic
transcription of
Newport Herald article May 28, 29, 30, 1912
The article is
long (11 pages of MS). Here are some bookmarks.
Go to: Tue May 28, 1912 section "The Sailing
of the Ill Fated Steamship" - departure
from Cherbourg Wed Apr 10 - Thur, Fri, Sat Apr 11, 12, 13
on the Titanic - Sun Apr 14
church service and rest of day - retiring to read and the impact of the iceberg
- on the lifeboat
Go
to: Wed May 29, 1912 section "The Awful
Night Spent on the Water; The Rescue by the
Carpathia and Other Incidents" - on the Carpathia
- Expressing Gratitude
Go
to: Thur May 30, 1912 section "With
the Rescued Afloat and Ashore" - Listing Their Needs
- Reward for the Crew - arrival in New
York - burial at sea - interference
from White Star Lines - men
and the evacuation of the Titanic - crew
refusing men access to lifeboats
Go to end
Newport Herald
Tuesday, May 28, 1912
[no page number; not on the front page]
FULL
HISTORY OF TITANIC'S TRIP
Written
by a Newport Summer Resident
Mrs.
James J. Brown Author
The
Sailing of the Ill Fated Steamship
Mrs. James J. Brown, of Denver, well known as a
summer resident of Newport, has written for the Herald a comprehensive story
of the first and last voyage of the steamer Titanic, on which she was a
passenger. As Mrs. Brown is a
keen observer as well as a woman of strong intellect, the story, it is
believed, will be the most interesting that has yet been prepared upon the
subject. It is [unreadable] full
that it would cover a page and a quarter of the Herald and for this reason it
will be presented in sections.
A special
boat train (train de luxe) from Paris reached Cherburg [sic] at 5 [pm] on
April 10th [Wed Apr 10, 1912]. When
we arrived no steamer in sight. She
was late, having met with some difficulties in leaving the docks at Liverpool. We all boarded the tender that was waiting to covey [sic] the
hundreds of passengers to the master palace of the sea, that proved later to
be the tomb of many of them.
After an hour or more of waiting in the cold, gray
atmosphere, the [funnels?] of the Titanic, the world's greatest masterpiece of
modern ocean liners appeared over the other side of the breakwater.
In a few minutes more, this wonderful floating palace hove in sight
around the curve of the dike and dropped anchor.
The tender put on steam, and after half an hour [unreadable] alongside
the keel of the Titanic. The
tossing of the small craft in the choppy sea caused most of the passengers to
be uncomfortable and actively ill. All
were chilled through.
On boarding the vessel, the greater number of the
passengers immediately sought their staterooms.
The bugle for dinner sounded a half-hour later, but it was unsuccessful
in calling forth many to its magnificent dining-saloon.
The electric heater and warm covering were found too comfortable to be
deserted, even at the craving of the inner man.
The second day out broke clearer and less crisp,
and half-after twelve found most of the passengers promenading the desk or
basking in the warm sun outside the Palm Garden.
There were long benches on the long bow of the boat for those who found
the swayback steamer chairs uncomfortable.
The last half-hour lapsing between the first and
second gongs, when all take their exercises before descending into the
dining-hall, most of the passengers are to be found walking enveloped in heavy
wraps. The women were in
luxurious furs, and the men in heavy overcoats buttoned closely around their
necks and partly disguised in steamer caps.
In passing to and fro they discovered old friends on board, and some
made new ones. Small groups were
standing here and there, discussing the ship and its marvelous [sic], its
possibility for speed, and all its wonderful advantages over anything of its
kind heretofore put afloat. Each
and all seemed to have consulted the log as to the distance covered that day
and each successive day. The
number of knots covered was registered there each day at noon, and was the
topic of conversation on deck and at the table at the luncheon hour.
After luncheon, or about two-thirty, the favorite and popular place was
the reading-room, where the passengers settled themselves comfortably with
some chosen book from the well-equipped library on the ship.
Others were taking a quiet siesta on the deck, wrapped in heavy steamer
rugs. Few remained in their
staterooms, for the sea was perfectly calm and no vibration was felt.
Consequently, there was little or no mal-de-mer.
Thus Thursday, Friday and Saturday [Apr 11, 12, 13,
1912] were passed.
Sunday [Apr 14, 1912] services
were held at ten-thirty, quite one-half of the passengers attending.
Later, the usual promenade on deck, but much more briskly, as the
temperature had dropped perceptibly lower.
After luncheon a few remained on deck, but all were restlessly
searching for a warm place. The
comfortable chairs in the lounge held but few, as a shaft of cold air seemed
to penetrate every nook and corner and chill the marrow.
Heavy furs and warm clothing were donned.
Dinner-time found few inclined to shed their warm
clothing for dinner dress. Even
the innumerable ladies, who on various occasions appeared in a different Paris
creation each night, could not be induced to change.
Though the board groaned with viands, the passengers found it
uncomfortable to sit through the many-course dinner. Many sought their staterooms immediately afterwards.
The writer sought some exceedingly intellectual and
much-traveled acquaintances, a Mrs. Bucknell, whose husband had founded the
Bucknell University of Philadelphia, and Dr. Brew of Philadelphia, who had
done much in scientific research. During
our conversation, Mrs. Bucknell reiterated her statement she had made in a
previous conversation that I had had with her on the tender while waiting for
the Titanic. She said she feared
boarding the ship, she had evil forebodings that something might happen.
We laughed at her premonitions, and shortly afterwards sought our
quarters.
Go back to top
Anxious to finish a book, I
stretched on the brass bed at the side of which was a lamp.
So completely absorbed was she in her reading, she gave little thought
to the crash that struck at her window overhead and threw her to the floor.
Picking up, she proceeded to see what the steamer had struck.
On emerging from the stateroom, she found many men in the gangway in
their pajamas, whom she had overheard a few moments before entering their
staterooms say that they were nearly frozen and had to leave the
smoking-rooms. They, while standing, were chaffing each other.
One of them remarked, "Are you prepared to swim in those
things?" referring to the pajamas. Women
were standing along the corridors in their kimonas [sic].
All seemed to be quietly listening.
Thinking nothing serious had occurred [sic], though realizing at the
time that the engines had stopped immediately after the crash and the boat was
at a standstill, and as there was no confusion of any kind, the book was again
picked up.
On overhearing the occupants of the adjoining
stateroom say, "We will go on deck and see what has happened," I
again arose, and saw six or more stewards and one officer in the corridor
forcing an auger through a hole in the floor, while treating the whole thing
with levity. Again returning to
her book, presently she saw her curtains moving, but no one was visible. She again looked out, and saw a man whose face was blanched,
his eyes protruding, wearing the look of a haunted creature.
He was gasping for breath, and in an undertone he gasped, "Get
your life-saver." I immediately reached above and dragged all out, as I thought
some others might need them. Snatching
up furs, and placing a silk capote on my head, I hurriedly mounted the stairs
to A deck, and there I found possibly fifty passengers, all putting on their
life-belts. Strapping myself into
mine, I afterwards was told to go up on the storm deck. My party that I was traveling with had already gone up.
On reaching A deck, Mrs. Bucknell approached and whispered to me,
"Didn't I tell you something was going to happen?"
On reaching the storm deck we found a number of men trying to unravel
the tackle of the boats to let them down, which seemed at the time very
difficult. We were approached by an officer and told to descend to the
deck below. We found the
life-boats there were being lowered from the falls and were at the time flush
with the deck. Madame De Vallier,
of Paris, appeared from below in a night dress and evening slippers with no
stockings, over which she wore a woolen motor coat.
She clutched my arm and in a terrified voice said she was going below
for her money and jewels. After
much persuasion I prevailed upon her not to go down but to get into the boat.
As she hesitated and became very excited, I told her it was all only a
precaution and she would be able to return to the then-sinking steamer later.
After she got on, I turned and found the lady of my party in a lowering
boat. I was walking away eager to
see what was being done with the boats on the other side, not fearing any
immediate danger, thinking if the worst should happen I could swim out. Suddenly I saw a shadow, and a few seconds later, I was taken
hold of, and with the words "You are going, too," I was dropped
fully four feet into the lowering life-boat.
When I got in, on looking around, I saw but one man, who was in charge
of the boat.
While being lowered by jerks
by an officer from above, I discovered that a great gush of water was spouting
through the porthole from D deck, and our lifeboat was in grave danger of
being submerged. I immediately
grasped an oar and held the lifeboat away from the ship.
While being lowered we were conscious of strains of music being wafted
on the night air. As we reached a
sea as smooth as glass, we looked up and saw the benign, resigned countenance,
the venerable white hair and the Chesterfieldian bearing of our beloved
captain (with whom I had crossed twice before--only three months previous, on
the Olympic, our party sat at his table) as he peered down upon us like a
solicitous father, directing us to row to the light in the distance and all
boats keep together.
With but one man in the boat, and possibly fourteen
women, I saw that it was necessary for some one to bend to the oars.
I placed mine in the row-locks, and asked a young woman near me to hold
one while I placed the other one on the further side.
To my surprise, she immediately began to row like a galley-slave, every
stroke counting. Myself on the
other side, we managed to pulled [sic] out from the steamer.
All the time while rowing we were facing the starboard side of the
sinking vessel. By that time E
and C decks were completely submerged, and the strains of music became
fainter, as though the instruments were filling up with water.
Suddenly all ceased when the heroic musicians could play no more.
The only seaman in our boat was the quartermaster
[Robert Hichens]. He was at the
rudder, and standing much higher than we were.
He was shivering like an aspen. As
we pulled away from the boat, we heard sounds of firing, and were told later
that it was officers shooting as they were letting down the boats from the
steamer, trying to prevent those from the lower decks jumping into the
lifeboats. Others said it was the
boilers.
The quartermaster in command of our boat burst out
in a frightened voice, and warned us of the fate that awaited us, telling us
our task in rowing away from the sinking ship was futile, as she was so large
that in sinking she would draw everything for miles around down with her
suction, and if we escaped that the boilers would burst and rip up the bottom
of the sea, tearing the icebergs asunder and completely submerge us.
We were truly doomed either way. He
dwelt on the dire fate awaiting us, narrating at great length the incidents
that happened at Liverpool--how two large steamers, the New York and one
other, were drawn under and almost capsized, we all the while bending to the
oars with a vengeance, tugging on. All
occupants of the lifeboats remained as mute as the dead, all standing erect
clustered in the middle of the boat. Presently
we heard shouts and cries of terror from the fast sinking ship.
We were told the shouts were from the trunk men on the collapsible
boat. Our quartermaster haggled
long and loud. The splash of the
oars partly drowned the voices of the perishing ones on the doomed steamer.
The ladies all seemed terrified. Those
having husbands, sons or fathers, buried their heads on the shoulders of those
near them, and moaned and groaned only. While
my eyes were glued on the fast disappearing ship, I particularly watched the
broad promenade deck.
TO Be
Continued.
Go back to top
Newport Herald
Wednesday, May 29, 1912
[no page number; not on the front page]
FULL
STORY OF TITANIC'S TRIP
The
Awful Night Spent on the Water.
Mrs.
James J. Brown Author
The
Rescue by the Carpathia and Other Incidents.
(Continued
from yesterday's edition.)
It was fully lighted, but not one moving object was
visible. Suddenly a rift in the
water, the sea opened up and the surface foamed like giant arms spread around
the ship, and the vessel disappeared from sight, and not a sound was heard.
When none of the calamities that were predicted by
our terrified boatman was experienced, we asked him to return and pick up
those in the water. Again we were
admonished, and told how the frantic drowning victims would grapple the sides
of our boat and capsize us. He
not yielding to our entreaties, we pulled away vigorously toward a faintly
glimmering [sic] light on the horizon. After
three hours of pulling at the oars, the light grew fainter, and then
completely disappeared. Then our
quartermaster, who stood on his pinnacle trembling, with an attitude like some
one preaching to the multitude, fanning the air with his hands, recommenced
his tirade of evil forebodings, telling us we were likely to drift for days,
all the while reminding us that we were surrounded by icebergs, pointing to a
pyramid of ice looming up in the distance by the myriad stars in the sky, that
looked like a black shaft. He
most forcibly impressed upon us that there was no water in the casks in the
lifeboats and no bread, no compass and no chart.
No one answered him. They
all seemed to be striken dumb. One
of the ladies in the boat had had the presence of mind to procure her silver
brandy flask. As she held it in her hand, the silver glittered, and he
being attracted to it implored her to give it to him, saying that he was
frozen. She refused the brandy,
but removed her steamer blanket and put it around his shoulders, while another
lady wrapped a second blanket around his waist and lower limbs, he looking
"as snug as a bug in a rug." We
asked him to relieve one or the other at the oars, saying to him that we would
manage the rudder. He flatly
refused, and continued to rampoon [sic] us at the oars, shouting out,
"Here, you fellow on the starboard side, your oar is not being put in the
water at the right angle!" No
one made any protest to his outbursts, as he broke the monotony, but we
continued to pull at the oars, with no goal in sight.
Presently he raised his voice, shouting to another lifeboat to pull
near and lash to, commanding some of the other ladies to take the light and
signal to the other lifeboats. His
command was immediately obeyed. That
and one other command--that we drop the oars and lie fallow until we were
rescued. Some time later, after
more shouts, a lifeboat hove to and obeyed his orders to throw a rope, and was
tied to ours. Alongside the
dropped oars, and on the cross-seat of that boat stood a man in white pajamas.
He looked like a snowman in that icy region.
His teeth were chattering, and he appeared quite numb.
Seeing his predicament, I told him had [sic] better get to rowing to
keep his blood in circulation, which was not with [sic] forcible protest from
our quartermaster. We, after the
exercise, felt the blast from the icy fields and demanded that we be allowed
to row to keep warm. Immediately
over into our boat jumped a half-frozen stoker, black and covered with coal
dust, dressed as he was in thin jumpers.
I picked up a large sable stole that I had dropped in the boat and from
his waist line down wrapped it around his limbs, tying the tails around his
ankles. I handed him an oar and then I told the pajama man to cut
loose and a howl arose from our seaman. He
moved to prevent it, and he said if he did he would be thrown overboard.
Then I felt a hand laid on my shoulder to stay my threats knowing it
would not be necessary to push him over, had I only moved in his direction he
would have tumbled into the sea, so paralyzed was he with fright.
He had by this time worked himself up to such a pitch of sheer despair,
fearing that a scramble of any kind would remove the plug from the bottom of
the boat (that it had taken three of us some length of time to feel around,
find it, and place it in the hole), and if it were displaced the water would
sweep in and there was grave danger of filling the boat.
The quartermaster became very impertinent and our fur-enveloped stoker,
in as broad a cockney as one hears in the Haymarket, shouted, "Boy, don't
you know you are talking to a loidy?"
For the time being, the seaman was silenced, and we again set at our
task. Two other ladies came to
the rescue of those rowing, and caught hold of the oars and backed the water.
Thus we aimlessly tugged on over the vast waste of water.
Lights were flashed from other lifeboats miles away.
While glancing around, watching the edge of the
horizon, the beautifully modulated voice of the English young woman at the oar
exclaimed, "There is a flash of light!"
All looked in the direction pointed out, and our pessimistic seaman
said, "That is a falling star."
It became lighter, and later was multiplied by others on the lighted
deck. He was convinced then that
it was a ship. He said it was the
Olympic, as she was to have passed after midnight.
(The Olympic passed two days later.)
Then he gave a sign of relief, and again ordered us to drop the oars.
We saw this steamer approaching the small lifeboats
near her, while we were then possibly six or eight miles off.
However the distance seemed interminable.
We saw she was anchored. Again
a declaration was made that we, regardless of what our quartermaster said,
would row toward her. Again the
young Englishwoman from the Thames got to work, accompanying her strokes with
cheerful words to the wilted occupants of the boat.
A little while later, dawn disclosed an awful
situation. There were fields [?]
of ice on which, like points on the landscape, rested innumerable pyramids of
icy peaks. Seemingly an [sic]
half hour later, the sun, like a ball of molten lead, appeared at its
background. The hand of Nature
portrayed a scenic effect beyond the ken of the human mind.
The heretofore smooth sea became choppy, which seemed to retard our
progress. All the while we saw
the small lifeboats being hauled aboard.
By the time we reached the Carpathia, a heavy sea
was running. Our boat being the
last to approach, we found it difficult to get close.
Three or four unsuccessful attempts were made. Each time we were dashed against the keep and bounded off
like a rubber ball. A rope was
then thrown to us, which was spliced in four at the bottom, where a wide board
was held in four large knots. Feet
first, we got on and sat on the seat that formed a swing.
Catching hold of the one thick rope, we were hoisted up to where a
dozen of the crew and officers and doctors were waiting. Stimulants were given those who needed them, and hot coffee
was provided for all the survivors. Everything
was done for our comfort, the Carpathia passengers sharing their staterooms,
clothes, and toilet-articles, they, then retiring to the far corner of the
ship, where then deck-chairs were placed, giving the lounge up completely to
the survivors, and in the two succeeding foggy, murky days, when the deck was
too damp to sit out, they remained in their stuffy staterooms, rather than use
up the space there.
After picking up the lifeboats, only half filled,
the ship reconnoitered for hours around the place where the Titanic had sunk.
In doing so, they passed fifty miles of icefields, so I was told,
endangering their own safety in their endeavor to rescue more.
Go back to top
On entering the dining-salon I saw in one corner
our brave and heroic quartermaster, with a cluster of people around him.
He was wildly gesticulating, trying to impress upon them what
difficulty he had had in disciplining the occupants of his boat.
On seeing a few of us near, he did not tarry long, but made a hasty
retreat.
On the swivel chairs in the dining-salon were
seated the Titanic survivors. They
were speechless, half-clad, their eyes protruding, hair streaming down--those
who only twelve hours before, were immaculately groomed, and richly gowned and
furred--evidence of "Vanity, vanity, all is vanity."
Here they all, shaven and shorn and in utter hopelessness and dispair
[sic], almost all bereft of husbands and sons, fathers and brothers.
Unable to grasp the situation, they sat most, not being able to realize
in the one short hour between a quarter of twelve, when the boat struck, and
somewhat after one, when she sank, that their dear ones were swallowed up in
the jaws of death.
Sprinkled among the affluent were our sisters of
the second class, and for a time there was that social leveling caused only by
the close proximity of death.
While getting the addresses from many of the
survivors of their relatives that they might be apprised by Marconi of their
safety, I was grappled by a poor woman of the second class, who held in her
closed fist long strands of hair she had pulled from her head.
Holding them on high, as though measuring them with her eyes, she
frantically shouted to me to find her baby.
I promised her I would. Seeing
she was mentally unbalanced, a doctor was called, and she was put under
opiates. When she had gotten into
the boat, her baby was being handed to her, and somehow was dropped into the
sea and drowned.
Fortunately, the Carpathia was carrying something
more than half she usually accommodates so the second morning found a great
number of the Titanic survivors provided for.
The overflow beds were made on the couches in the lounge, and pallets
of blankets were made on the floor. The
first night many of the men slept on the deck in steamer chairs, others slept
in the smoking-room and dining-salon. The
Captain gave up his stateroom, it accommodating four of the socially
representative ladies. [These
were Madeline (Mrs. John Jacob) Astor, Eleanor (Mrs. George) Widener, and
Marion (Mrs. John) Thayer.]
The barber, fortunately, had in stock a few dozen
tooth-brushes, combs, and other toilet-articles.
The Carpathia's objective points being ports on the
Mediterranean, she was carrying on an extra large supply of food.
In that line there was nothing left to be desired.
On reaching the Carpathia, the first thing found
necessary to be done was to relieve the anxiety of relatives of the survivors.
Immediately on obtaining the addresses, I visited the Marconi quarters
and left the written messages that had to be paid before sending, though there
were many who had little or no funds.
The system was so glutted in sending messages of
the wreck and names of surviving passengers, it was the third day before the
private ones could be sent, their Marconi system being limited, so I was told,
to 250 miles.
The kindly spirit and tender solicitation of
officers, crew and passengers, elicited the thought that we, the survivors,
should in some substantial way express our gratitude to the Captain in the
form of a loving-cup and to compensate the crew for their efficiency and
double hours of labor in our behalf.
EXPRESSING GRATITUDE
At breakfast the second morning [Tue Apr 16, 1912],
when I suggested to the gentlemen at the table that immediate action should be
taken, I found they were eager to express gratitude, but made a protest at
funds being collected. A
committee was later formed, and a typed notice was tacked up that a meeting of
the survivors would be held in the dining-salon at three in the afternoon.
Almost the full list of survivors were present.
Resolutions of gratitude, first to God, and then to the Captain and
officers, were framed and read.
A subscription list was immediately started, and
about $4,000 was subscribed in money and checks.
The names and amounts subscribed were typed and tacked on the wall at
the foot of the stairs, and an open list for those not having yet given in
their names and amounts. The day
before reaching New York [Wed Apr 17, 1912], the fund was augmented to the
extent of $10,000, as I was informed by the Secretary.
TO Be
Continued
Go back to top
Newport Herald
Thursday, May 30, 1912
[no page number; not on the front page]
FULL
STORY OF TITANIC'S TRIP
With
the Rescued Afloat and Ashore
MRS.
JAMES J. BROWN AUTHOR
End
of Statement of the Great Disaster
(Continued
from yesterday's edition.)
The gravity of the situation was there and then
relieved, if the expression on faces was any criterion.
The mental anxiety was perceptibly mitigated. A large number of the passengers living out of New York, were
momentarily embarrassed for funds, and only needed enough to tide them over.
The Committee waited upon the owner the survivors demands being made
known, he conceded all. [sic] The
demand was that the White Star Line furnish transportation and other
necessities to their destination.
The second officer, who acted as spokesman for the
crew of the Titanic, stated that their services were at an end when the
Titanic sank, and upon reaching New York they would be sent adrift. It was immediately seen to that their transportation to
England would be given, and also employment on reaching there.
LISTING THEIR
NEEDS
The three succeeding days [Tue, Wed, Thur Apr 16,
17, 18, 1912] were spent among the passengers, listing their needs and making
provision in the way of clothes, as many escaped in their night-clothing, over
which was drawn a cloak. A number
who were in our boat had only sandals on and no stockings.
The day before landing, three Irish girls were
found in the steerage, they having kept their berths since the rescue, having
no clothes and refusing to rise with blankets only to wrap around them, they
were among the passengers going to New York.
[Thur Apr 18, 1912] As the Carpathia was nearing
the harbor, it was surrounded by smaller boats that went out to meet it, in
which were newspaper men and photographers to take flashlights. They impeded the progress of the Carpathia.
The excitement of this and the Captain calling through a megaphone to
the pilot to dispurse [sic] the crafts or he would be unable to reach the
docks, and the seeing and hearing of the multitude of humanity on the wharf,
so frightened these women that they refused to quit the ship and go with the
ladies of the Travelers Aid Society, who came on to take them to a place of
safty [sic] until friends were found and arrangements were made for them to
either return to their homes in Europe or other destinations in America.
Feeling it a duty to remain with those and after the army of Red Cross
doctors and nurses, White Star Line officials, and general Aid Corps had taken
leave of the ship, we found it was necessary to improvise beds in the lounge,
so I remained with them on board all night. There were many who had friends on
the dock, but did not know them, so with each one was sent an escort and the
names called out, and those finding their friends would return to the ship and
report, and we kept a list of their whereabouts.
For some of those remaining, telegrams were sent that night and the
next morning. Friends of many
came aboard, and the others, less fortunate, consented to go with the ladies
of the Travelers' Aid, conditionally that they would be allowed to see me at
the Ritz-Carlton, where I would be, and I promised to have their various
consuls there, and we would try to find their friends, whose addresses their
husbands had when the ship sank. This
took some days afterwards.
Go back to top
REWARD FOR
THE CREW
The next morning [Thur Apr 19, 1912], on the ship,
I was joined with five members of the committee, who brought on $5,000 so they
said, in funds, to be distributed among the much overworked crew of the
Carpathia. This being done, an
order was given for the loving-cup to be presented to the captain on the
return of his ship from Naples. Having
taken a list of those of the survivors who were to be assisted, a copy was
made and given to the White Star agents who came on the boat.
The further work of the committee of the survivors
of the Titanic was to see, by keeping check, that the company were keeping
their promise, and that all were cared for.
The only comment that could be made was that the
Carpathia did not follow the customary procedure on boats. Where there is death on board boats, they usually bury them
at night, in place of adding to the horror of passengers by burying the men
who died on board after being rescued from the collapsible boat at the hour of
four in the afternoon when the passengers were around. They possibly may have had a good and sufficient reason for
such a departure from the usual procedure.
The men who died were rescued by the lifeboat in which were the four
prominent lady personages. In
rescuing these, the plug in their lifeboat was dislodged and a foot of water
covered the bottom of their boat, which, to prevent the filling of the boat,
it was needful that they bail it out with a large dipper hanging from the
seat. In the boat two of the men
rescued, I was told, died and lay for hours in the bottom of the boat during
the six hours on the open sea before the passengers were rescued by the
Carpathia.
It was very apparent that the consideration and
solicitation shown toward the unfortunate survivors had been taken exception
to from some sources. On one
occasion, when ladies of the committee stopped to inquire the way to reach the
second and third class, they were intercepted by the doctor, as he emerged
from the quarters of the secluded plutocrat [White Star Line Managing Director
J. Bruce Ismay]. He approached
one of the ladies and said, "Madam, we have the situation under perfect
control. Blankets have been cut
up, and we are having clothes made.["] "Cutting up blankets would
not soothe their tortured minds." Then
and there, we were more determined, and a notice was posted that the hours of
eleven to one and three to six the committee would be in the dining-salon.
During those hours, the survivors came in twos and fours and poured out
their grief and story of distress. Between
flows of tears, they unburdened their sorrows, that lay like a weight upon
their breasts. The gratitude
shown by those people and the evidence that the great mental strain they were
under was partly relieved when they knew that some one was interested in their
welfare, was proof conclusive to the committee that they were working along
the right lines, regardless of how the doctor felt in the matter, feeling that
he was voicing only the sentiment of the secluded autocrat, as a number of
these foreign women of the first and second class were told that now they had
no funds their arrival in American would be under the Alien Law.
They were terrified at their being subject to such humiliation.
They were fully convinced that such was not the case that they would be
provided with means and transportation. They
arose and said their loads one was then and there lifted [sic], and their
minds were very much relieved.
Another instance when the ladies were made to feel
that they were overstepping their bounds in their endeavor to relieve the
situation for those people, was when the resolutions were read. They were told emphatically it was an absolute affront to the
owner and manager who was on board. We
replied we were only compelled to do what he had neglected as his duty.
If this interest had been shown by him, it would have placed him in a
very different light than that of doing as he did, concealing himself behind
closed doors, to the exclusion of everyone.
The contrast was extremely noticeable, as he was the most conspicuous
figure on the Titanic before she went down.
He was six feet tall, and of the Orinental [sic] type, with manner of
pacing the deck with an expression of intensity of purpose and determination,
he had always been in extreme evidence. Assuming
this attitude at this time was extremely ridiculous.
In passing up the stairs at noon, on the day we
were rescued, two tall men stood aside for me to pass. Looking up, I saw the face of the man and his friend who had
told me to get my life-preserver, and who later put me into the boat, when I
was walking away on the Titanic. Putting
out my hand, it is needless to say how profuse I was in expressing my
gratitude. I asked to whom I was
indebted for my life and safety. He
handed me their cards, reading "Calderhead and Bough, buyers for Kimball
Brothers, New York.["] They
stated that, in seeing the distress of many women who were bereft of their
husbands and some who had perished, it made them feel exceedinly [sic]
embarrassed, and their attitude in keeping out of sight other than when they
came to the dining-salon for meals, was that of men feeling that their lives
being saved was somewhat of a stigma, and the worn expression of their faces,
as though they continually asking [sic] themselves the question, what woman's
place in the lifeboat did they fill, and in an apologetic manner they told how
inadvertently they caught the last boat being lowered half-empty.
They told me of the navigation laws restricting men from the boats when
women and children were on board. I
replied that such must have been the ancient law, and now that equal rights
existed, truly all should be relieved, as I chance; [sic] that their
conscience on that score should be relieved, as I was a living evidence of
their thoughtfulness to womankind, as at the time they placed me in the boat,
I had no intention of getting off, but was most concerned in knowing what was
taking place on the other side of the steamer, and marveling all the while at
the clumsiness of the crew in letting down the lifeboats, comparing the
discipline of what I had seen in my travels on German liners, where a daily
drill of military tactics in handling lifeboats took place.
It was truly shown at the time that the crew of the Titanic were
amateurs in comparison to what I had seen on a German ship on the China Seas,
when we encountered the outer forces of a typhoon that set us aground until
the tide took us out to the rescue of those floating around in the wreckage of
a submerged tramp steamer. The
comparison seemed crude indeed, as there was no organization or discipline
shown at the time, though it was known, as soon as she struck the high iceberg
and when riding over the submerged one, the bottom of the boat was ripped off,
as immediately trunks began to float about in the hold and an officer was seen
dragging at the mailbags a few minutes after she struck, giving them time to
realize the worst had happened
CONTINUED
ON SEVENTH
PAGE.
Go back to top
FULL STORY
OF TITANIC'S
TRIP
CONTINUED
FROM FIFTH PAGE.
and for the crew to be at their posts.
On the contrary, it was plain to be seen that, of
the seventy stewards who were saved, none attempted to warn those in the
staterooms of their danger.
One of the heroes on board was the
eighteen-year-old son of the Thayers of Philadelphia.
He and his father, after having taken an affectionate farewell of his
mother, after placing her in the lifeboat, while waiting on the deck of the
Titanic, plunged off. While
swimming he was drawn twice under the keel by the suction.
In his struggle, he grasped hold of the collapsible boat and was among
those who were rescued. He was on
board the Carpathia when his mother was hoisted from the lifeboat.
She was under the impression that both her husband and son had perished
on the Titanic, but, to her supreme joy, she was clasped in her son's arms.
In her great thankfulness in having one spared her, for the rest of the
voyage not more than a few minutes at a time would she permit him to be
separate from her.
The attitude of the men who were rescued was indeed
pathetic. each and all seemed as
though they were trying to efface themselves, when they were encountered
passing to and fro. It was
noticed how they all tried to explain how it came about like a miracle that
their lives were saved, with an expression of apology, as though it were a
blight on their manhood. One man
displaying an order he had demanded from the officer when asked to get in the
lifeboat half-filled with women that he might row, all stating that they took
the boats when there was no one around to get in.
The third day on the Carpathia I talked at great
length with one of the officers of the Titanic, who had had in his command
five lifeboats he having the one that went back and rescued those on the
collapsible. In talking it over,
he stated that they saw to it that, among those who were saved would not be
any of the rich nabods, [sic] again reiterating the same, adding, "We saw
to it that they would take their chances with good men." While preening his feathers over this fact, he stated that
there was one who got through without the officers knowing it.
He later displayed his weapon, and told how with that, he made one who
persistently attempted to get in the boat with his wife, he was told in the
strong expletive of the masculine lexicon to "chase himself around the
deck." He stated the only
thing he regretted was the oaths he had used towards the ladies in the boats.
(The End.)