Titanic, First Accounts

by Tim Maltin

  Then we men strolled up just above to the smoking room and had been seated only a few minutes when there came a heavy grinding sort of shock beginning far ahead of us in the bows and rapidly passing along the ship and away under our feet. Everyone sprang up and ran out through the swing doors astern.

  A man in front of me called out that he had seen an iceberg towering fifty feet above the deck, which was 100 ft above the sea, and passing away astern. This was the explanation.

  I went with a Swedish friend whose acquaintance I made on board, Björnström Steffanson of the Swedish Embassy in Washington. We sought out the lady who had been recommended to my care, Mrs. Churchill Candee, who was returning from Paris to see her son after an aeroplane accident.

  We found her and I took her up on to the A deck to see how things were going. We found the engines stopped and the officers and crew making preparations to lower the boats. The officers were assuring everyone that there was no danger to life, but that the ladies were to be put into the boats as a precautionary measure.

  We continued our walk awhile, and then I saw passengers coming up with life belts on. I got Mrs. Candee’s tied on to her and then went off to my room and got on mine and brought away an extra one which I soon gave to some scared person who had none. Bjornstrom and I took Mrs. Candee up to the upper A deck where the boats were hung and we put her safely with a rug into the first boat, which gradually was filled with women and children and a few of the crew were put in, three I think, and a youth with a broken arm.

  Not enough men were put into the first boats really. We then bade her a cheery good-bye and told her we should help her onboard again when the ship had steadied herself. She wanted us to come too but we laughed this off.

  We then went and helped with several more life boats, bundling in the women and children. Meanwhile several gentlemen were standing calmly by and looking on. Several men crept into these few boats, as it came out, and they give fatuous explanations how they came to do so. They were forced in by zealous friends against their own wish, and so on.

  The calm courage of the passengers was most inspiring. Many women refused to leave without their husbands. Björnström and I took many of them at their husbands’ desire and bodily chucked them into the boats. Eventually all the lifeboats on the port side were launched, and while the crew were putting a big Berthon collapsible boat on the davits he and I went down to the lower deck and around to look for stray women.

  We found three ladies close together and then we rushed them into a boat on the starboard side by sheer bluff. We shouted our way through the press; “Make way for ladies!” and then we hoisted them up, one of us on each side, and giving them a final heave in they had to go, head over heels. We then turned our attention to a boat ready on the starboard side, where there was shouting going on.

  We saw the first officer twice fire a pistol in the air ordering a crowd of the crew out of the boat. We ran in and helped bundle the men out onto the deck and then we got a lot, about ten, Italian and other foreign women into that boat and when we saw it was being safely lowered we went away and made a final search on the deck below.

  The electric lights were beginning to turn red and not a soul was to be seen on the whole deck of 160 yards. The thick glass windows were all closed and Björnström said to me: “I think we may now make a try for ourselves.” I replied: “All right.”

  We walked along through an open door beyond the glass windows, where there was an open gunwale. Looking out we saw the sea pouring over the bows and through the captain’s bridge. Just opposite us was the collapsible boat which we had seen being hooked onto the last davits on the port side. She was being lowered into the sea and hung about nine feet away from us. I said: “Let’s make a jump for it! There is plenty of room in her bows!” Björnström replied “Right you are!”

  We skipped on the gunwale, balanced ourselves for a moment and leaped into the air. He landed fair and square into the boat. I landed on my chest and caught hold with my hands on the gunwale and slipped off backward. I hauled myself up with my arms and got my right foot over the gunwale.

  Björnström said, “All right, I’ve got you,” and levered me up by my right foot. But that time my left leg was in the sea, so it was a near thing.

  The water was pouring in through the door we had just walked through. It rose so rapidly that if we had waited another minute we should have been pinned between the deck and its roof. We first hauled in another man passenger who was in the sea, and then I climbed over a number of women and children and got out two oars. Björnström took one, I took another, a steward got another and another man took the fourth.

  I handed him a rowlock so that he could steer and we began to pull like the deuce to get clear of the ship, which I knew was doomed; but I was anxious to get away from the suction when the big ship when under. I never pulled harder in my life. About thirty women and children were in the boat, with only three oars to pull. However we got away from her and got clear, but only about 150 yards, when I saw the monster take a huge tilt forward and her stern came clean out of the water at least eighty feet.

  Lights were still burning and she settled forward still further, then stopped for about thirty seconds. Suddenly, with a terrific roar, like thousands of tons of rocks rumbling down a metal chute, she plunged bodily down, head first. Every light went out and the roaring went on for about a minute.

  Then arose the most fearful and bloodcurdling wail. It was awful. One thousand seven hundred men in the dark, going down amid that ghastly turmoil! I can never forget it.

  We continued our course, for it would have been sheer madness to have returned and tried to pick up any more. It would have meant all of us perishing.

  The sea was as smooth as a pond or none of us would be alive. The Titanic struck at 11:45 p.m. on a starry, clear night. She sank finally at 2:22 a.m. I believe seventeen boats got away. I was in the seventeenth.

  It got colder and colder. Fortunately I had on my fur coat and under that my dress clothes. The only thing I saved was my money. I worked all through the excitement with Björnström at my side. We spoke with strong authority and people simply stood aside and made way for us when we came up with women in tow. It was remarkable!

  There were scenes of magnificent unselfishness and devotion; women who absolutely refused to go without their husbands; dozens of husbands who simply obeyed orders and remained silent and quiet on deck while their wives were put into safety. In particular a very handsome old gentleman, Mr. Isidor Straus, and his wife were there and declined to be separated and when we suggested that so old a man was justified in going into the boat that was waiting, Mr. Straus said: “Not before the other men.”

  His wife tightened her grasp on his arm and patted it and smiled up at him and then smiled at us.

  In our boat we floated around for a long time in the dark, the cries getting fainter and fewer in the distance. Then a boat with an officer came along and he gave us orders for us to form a string by making fast our painter’s head and tail, so as to make a more conspicuous mark on the ocean for a passing ship to see. This we did and it gave us something to do.

  After a while orders were given to lighten the officer’s boat, so that he could go and help some poor wretches on an upturned boat, which by now was faintly visible in the distance. We got seven more into our already pretty full boat, but we could stand them upright. Other boats got others, and the officer went away with his sail up and got in about twenty shivering men who had been balancing themselves for over three hours up to their ankles on an upturned collapsible boat. Think of it!

  Faint streaks of light began in the east by this time and I saw a breeze coming towards us, which was a serious matter in our heavily loaded condition. I advised throwing off the painter and keeping her head into the sea. This was done. The wind continued to freshen.

  Looking around, I saw about twenty icebergs
that looked like photographs of the Antarctic expedition. The whole horizon was snow—the edge of a floe, which turned out to be at least forty miles long and yet our lookout on the Titanic had seen nothing and we had been going full speed ahead all through the night.

  Then I saw a rocket and a little later the lights of a steamer coming our way. This cheered us mightily, as you may imagine. Very slowly she seemed to come on, picking her way through the ice. Eventually she slowed down and then stopped and we saw boats about her sides and I understood that our first boatloads were being taken aboard.

  The officer in the sailboat bore down on us and seeing we were being rather roughly knocked about by the sea, gave us a tow, but started away from the steamer and we then saw he was making for another set of unfortunates, who were standing up, apparently in the water. They were a party of fourteen or so, among them a black haired woman and two corpses.

  The living having been taken aboard, we wore around and made for the ship, the breeze freshening all the while. It seemed a very long time, but eventually we came alongside the Carpathia on her way with a crowd of tourists on their way to Gibraltar. Getting under the lee side, we made fast and soon had the women hoisted in a sling, and then we men clambered stiffly up the rope ladders.

  Stewards steered us to the dining saloon, where hot brandy and water and biscuits awaited us. Seven hundred, about, were saved out of, I believe, 2,500.

  Everything possible has been done on board to make us comfortable, and nothing could exceed the kindness the passengers on the Carpathia showed to the shivering people who came up out of the sea. I was given a sofa in the first officer’s cabin. We had fogs nearly all the time since we were rescued and our speed was therefore moderate.

  This general description will serve to show that the behavior of the American and English passengers and of the whole crew was admirable with very few exceptions.

  HUGH WOOLNER

  Margaret Brown,

  Newport Herald,

  MAY 28 & 29, 1912

  A special boat train (train deluxe) from Paris reached Cherbourg at 5 p.m. April 10th. When we arrived, no steamer in sight. She was late, having met with some difficulty in leaving the docks at Liverpool. We all boarded the tender that was waiting to convey 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 in a running sea we were 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 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 room. The electric heater and warm covering were found too comfortable to be deserted even for the many course dinner, 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 deck 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 sway-back steamer chairs uncomfortable.

  The last half-hour lapsing between the first and second gongs, when all take their exercise before descending to 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 marvels, 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 were passed.

  Sunday services were held at ten-thirty, quite one-half of the passengers attending. Later the passengers went outside to 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 brides, 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 has founded the Bucknell University of Philadelphia, and Dr. Brew of Philadelphia, who had done much in scientific research. During our conversation that I 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.

  Anxious to finish a book, I stretched on the brass bed at the side of which was a lamp. So completely absorbed in my reading, I gave little thought to the crash that struck at my window overhead and threw me to the floor. Picking myself up I proceeded to see what the steamer had struck. On emerging from the stateroom, I found many men in the gangway in their pajamas, whom I had overheard a few moments before entering their staterooms saying 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 kimonos. All seemed to be quietly listening, thinking nothing serious had occurred, 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 my book, presently I saw the curtains moving, but no-one was visible.

  I 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 w
as 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 lifeboats there were being lowered from the falls and were at that time flush with the deck. Madame DeVallier [de Villiers; i.e. Berthe Mayne], 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 at 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 someone to bend to the oars. I placed mine in the rowlocks 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 pull out from the steamer. All the time while rowing we were facing the starboard side of the sinking vessel. By that time E & 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.