Titanic, First Accounts

by Tim Maltin

  But if safety is assured by fixing the steamship lane further south, even much further south, so that an extra day is taken for the passage, let it be done. Only the speed maniac will grumble, and public opinion will soon rise up and tell such a man he is a public offense and a danger to all who travel, whether by sea or by land. We must not forget the effect, largely unconscious, no doubt, which this demand for saving an extra day or hour has on the policy of those engaged in catering to the traveling public.

  The protection of a searchlight is two-fold—the ability to sweep the sea for many hundreds of yards ahead and discern anything afloat and the utility of searchlight flashes as signals to other ships. The vessel that was only five miles away when the Titanic struck could not fail to have returned when a powerful searchlight lighted her up and so made known the Titanic’s distressed condition.

  I do not say, however, that an iceberg is an easy thing to detect, even with a searchlight, but it would seem quite possible to see a berg quite far ahead to avoid it. I suppose no one has any doubt that the Titanic would be safe now had there been a searchlight fitted on her. The conditions for its use were ideal that night.

  The provision of sufficient boats to enable each passenger to claim a seat is an elementary precaution. It should be compulsory on the steamship companies to assign a numbered place in a particular boat to each passenger. Passenger drills with the crew assigned to each boat should also be compulsory. There would be no necessity for the enforcement of the unwritten law of “women and children first,” for all would have a place. The forcing apart of wife from husband, the painful scenes of parting such as the Titanic witnessed, would not be possible.

  But the provision of lifeboats is not alone a remedy. In some conditions it would be the poorest of safeguards. Remember that when we embarked from the Titanic the climatic conditions were such as are found only in many years, perhaps—an absolutely calm sea. No wind, an unclouded sky—ideal conditions for transferring closely packed boatloads of people from one vessel to another. Given a rough sea, combined with the lack of knowledge of seamanship evident in the crew of most of the boats that were afloat, and the number who handed in their names on board the Carpathia would have to be halved or divided by even a larger figure than two.

  Is the increase in the size of a ship in itself any precaution against sinking? I venture to think not, except in a sinister way—that in the event of collision with a smaller ship the larger one is more likely to come off the better. On the other hand, I think it may be a positive danger. Every student of mechanics knows that the striking impact of a moving body is determined by its momentum, and the formula M = m × v is a statement of the principle that the momentum of a body is equal to the product of the mass into the velocity. Now the larger “m” is, the greater the momentum, even if “v” remains the same, or even if “v” is sensibly reduced and “m” is large the momentum may still be enormous.

  It is related that in the early days of the Peninsular wars English soldiers would see spent cannon balls rolling comparatively slowly toward them, and, stopping down to stop them, would find themselves deprived of their hands. What they could do with a cricket ball could not be done with a cannon ball rolling at perhaps a much less speed.

  When the Titanic struck “m” was the highest yet attained in any age, and “v” was very high, although not the highest known; but, undoubtedly, m multiplied by v for the Titanic at the moment of striking, was the greatest possible for any of them afloat on the sea. Could any form of construction provide against such a force of impact? Could any plates be made strong enough to resist that terrific shock? I think not.

  We are told that it would have been better had we headed straight for the berg and collided head on instead of having the side cut open. Probably it would, but even then would anything stand the shattering destruction behind that mass of 60,000 tons moving at 25 miles an hour? I do not know, but I think not. Certainly not unless passengers’ boats are to be built as ironclads are, with protective armor.

  Would it be possible to have a cruising lightship in iceberg regions, fitted with every possible signal apparatus—Marconi system, searchlight and flashlight, submarine signaling, to give warning to every ship approaching such regions of the position of icebergs, their probable direction and amount of daily drift. It might at least be worth considering, at the iceberg season and be paid for internationally.

  But each of these precautions is useless if our other precaution be avoided—that of reducing speed in dangerous conditions. Look at the formula again—when “v” is zero, M = m × o, which is M = o; the striking impact is nil; “m × o” is the only real safeguard there is: the other things are good, but they are not even necessary in dangerous conditions. M × v = o for every ship afloat. You cannot eliminate “m” from the formula—that is constant—but you can make “v” anything you like from the highest speed your boilers are capable of down of zero. I wonder how it would be to display on the bridge of every ship the following notice: “M = m × v. Where ‘v’ is 25 knots the force of impact of this vessel is — thousands foot-tons. Where ‘v’ is zero, the force of impact is nil.” Not that every officer does not know this, but the reminder might be useful.

  Having considered the precautions that may be adopted for the future, let us now consider the conditions in which the Titanic and her passengers and crew were found from the moment of collision until they were picked up by the Carpathia or perished in the icy, cold water of the mid-Atlantic. If there is any responsibility to be fixed, let us see if we can discover where. It will help every Captain and officer and passenger in the future to know who or what is to blame for the Titanic sinking on her maiden voyage.

  Now in analyzing the facts as presented to us, it must, of necessity, be that some questions to which we would like a reply cannot at this time be answered. Some of those who could answer are, alas, no longer here, and some are silent because officialdom sets a seal on their lips. But I do not think there are many such questions. The facts are too well known and public opinion is too much aroused to permit retention of much information that will be for the common good.

  Let us take the officials one by one—the order of taking them is purely for convenience, and see what circumstances, if any, point to the fixing of responsibility for the disaster.

  First Officer Murdoch.—He was on duty on the bridge at the time of collision and had been for some time previously. He was not responsible either for the speed of the ship nor for the course that it was taking. The lookout says he warned him of icebergs some time before the collision but got no reply; if so, this was negligence, but he is not here to give evidence on his own behalf.

  Is the lookout an unbiased witness? I think not. Is it conceivable that any officer who was not mad or intoxicated (and this is ample evidence that the chief officer was active in getting away lifeboats subsequently—I saw him doing so—and he was neither of these) would disregard such a warning? Suppose the chief officer were here and said “I never had the slightest warning from the crow’s nest of any iceberg until just before the collision.”

  His statement would be at least as reliable as that of the lookout. It is said: “No wonder he shot himself.” But did he? And if he did, was it because he had deliberately neglected a precaution that would endanger his own life and that of thousands of others. I cannot think it possible.

  It is said, too, that when he did see the berg he should have headed for her; that the glancing blow cut her open in the most vulnerable place. But what a choice to have to make! How many men would have the courage to head for the berg when every instinct told them to turn the ship away—even supposing it was not the best thing to turn her away! I cannot see how he is to blame.

  As commander the Captain is responsible directly for the course and the speed. Whoever else is on board and however much other officers might tender their advice to him, he alone is responsible for the conditions u
nder which the ship is running, and at first sight it seems difficult to see how he can escape responsibility for the disaster. But here we must be cautious.

  Did he do anything which was in defiance of all custom in running his ship at full speed through the iceberg region? Did he do anything that has not been done by many Captains for years past? (I do not say every Captain, but many Captains of fast mail-passenger steamers.) Did he defy and outrage all precedent in not slowing down? I think the answer to all these is “No.”

  I suppose it is difficult for a landsman to estimate the probabilities of collision with an iceberg in mid-ocean. He is apt to magnify them far too much. The sea is wide, the ship is small in comparison, and the chances of collision with anything but the largest iceberg (which ours was probably not) are very small. I do not wish to seem to take away any responsibility that should be laid on Captain Smith, but as he is not here to defend himself, let us all see that no undeserved censure be meted out to him. He took the risk which many other Captains have taken. What the chances were in taking the risk no man can say, but in his case the awful thing happened that should never have happened. In the case of all other Captains who have taken a similar risk it did not happen. If he is to be blamed it seems they are all equally blamable for the disaster, for he took the same risk as they did—no more or no less. Remember how the fastest boats are timed to run: “Leave New York Wednesday, dine in London the following Monday,” and it is done.

  Now there must be times when fog and icebergs are dangerous factors, but do the vessels slow down much? My information is that they do not, but if I am wrong, then it will be very easy to give particulars that such and such a boat on a certain date was so many hours or days late because of reduced speed through fog and icebergs. Extracts from ships’ logs can be cited, &c. The following was told me by an experienced traveler:

  We left Southampton by a boat timed to do the journey to New York in seven days. From the moment of leaving Queenstown to docking at New York there was fog except for the brief space of half an hour, and they did the journey in some hours over the seven days.

  If such experiences are uncommon, and if the best boats do not take risks, then let us hear that it is so, and the public will rejoice to know. It will not be so in the future, I am convinced, but for the sake of Captain Smith it seems important to know what the custom has been, for if he has taken a risk many take, the responsibility for such loss of life is fixed on a common system, to which many owners and Captains have agreed, perhaps unconsciously. If he took an uncommon and extraordinary risk, then it seems he is largely to blame.

  From another point of view, do not let us magnify the seeming enormity of running full speed in iceberg regions. I am informed by a very experienced officer that the movements of icebergs are most unaccountable. A ship will hear that bergs are ahead in a certain latitude and longitude, and on reaching the position no trace of them can be seen. Perhaps a warm current has swept around them and melted them. Again, news will be heard of a ship ahead with no mention of icebergs, and presently in the same position the ship following will sight numbers of them. I am told there is no question concerning navigation so uncertain as the diagnosis of the presence of icebergs. Cold air is a factor, but cold winds blow across from Labrador, and, on the other hand, a single berg large enough to sink a ship does not necessarily create a cold atmosphere.

  Low temperature is another factor, but here again an uncertain one. Look at the map and see how the cold current running down from Labrador meets the warm Gulf Stream; as they meet they do not mingle, nor do the run necessarily side by side; it is a common thing for them to interlace and run in streaks. Interlace the fingers of the hands, and it gives an elementary idea of how the temperature of the water may vary. The thermometer may read something like this as the vessel runs across these streaks: Thirty-five degrees, 60 degrees, 34 degrees, 59 degrees, and so on, all within a few miles.

  From what has been said in some sections of the press, it would seem as if the boat was deliberately run through a locality in which it was certain an iceberg was floating in a particular position and no precautions were taken to avoid such a position—in fact, that the utmost criminal negligence was observed; but to say so is to become hysterical. What seems likely is that the risk was taken which it is a frequent custom to take, and the unusually southern position of the field and bergs as well as the large number of the latter, united to increase enormously the probabilities of collision.

  So that if you blame Captain Smith you must blame a large number of other people. Shall you blame Captain Rostron of the Carpathia, who “knew icebergs were there but went ahead at full speed, stopped at 4:10 because of iceberg ahead,” and when the day dawned icebergs were around his ship and on every part of the horizon? He must have been near them many times in the night. He took the risk in a splendid cause, and no one is more grateful to him than I am that he did so, and never did a day dawn with greater rejoicing for me than when I climbed aboard his ship. But he did take the risk. I admit there is no comparison between the reasons why he took the risk and why Captain Smith took his, but after all Captain Rostron had his own ship and passengers to consider, and he could not take too great a risk; the fact that he took it at all means it was not considered to be such a danger as we, who have known only the abnormal and not the normal result of taking the risk, might suppose.

  I do not think anyone can say Capt. Smith can be held solely responsible.

  Not many men have had to undergo such a castigation at the hands of the press as Mr. Ismay. He has been called an arrant coward for leaving at all. He should have sunk with the boat in company with the Captain and Chief Officer. He was responsible for the speed, the course, the whole accident, in fact—and then in a moment of danger he ran away. The equipment was faulty and the White Star Line is responsible for criminal negligence and damages can be recovered from it. The Captain was apparently completely under Mr. Ismay’s thumb and had to do as Mr. Ismay told him.

  All this and more has been leveled at Mr. Ismay. It may be true in part, but is not very likely to be true in toto; it may not be true at all. He says he left in a boat when there were no other women passengers near. This is corroborated by witnesses and is extremely probable. The dimensions of the ship were huge. The number on the first-class deck at any time would be small compared with the deck space, and it is exceedingly probable it was as he said. The evidence of Mr. Lightoller is that the Chief Officer bundled Mr. Ismay into a boat. It seems a very natural act for an officer of the line to perform toward the head of the line. The officer would have a natural anxiety to save his chief, the one who directed mainly the policy of the line.

  I left in boat 13, when a call for ladies had been made three times and not answered and no ladies were visible, and was then invited to enter the boat. Mr. Ismay left under very similar circumstances. It is said that as managing director he should have remained and gone down, but I think it is quite a debatable point. If he had interfered in the navigation, control and conduct of the ship. Yes. If he had insisted on certain conditions of speed. Yes. If he had insisted on any other rights than those of any other passenger. Yes. But did he do all these things? He says he did not, and I do not know that any strong evidence has been brought forward to disprove his statement.

  After all, what are the probabilities? He says he had the information which the Captain and all other officers had about the icebergs, and adds he would not dream of suggesting to an officer of Captain Smith’s experience what should be done. That sounds reasonable. He was not a navigator, and he could not suggest. He might express a wish to go fast and Captain Smith in the relation of an official to a managing director might desire to comply with such a wish, and might be unconsciously—or even consciously—swayed to take a greater risk than he would have done if Ismay were not there. But here we are on the delicate ground of surmise as to what passed in Captain Smith’s mind—and that we shall never know.
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  In weighing Mr. Ismay’s responsibility, the difficult question has to be considered as to how far a managing director who knew nothing of navigation could influence a Captain of the line whose duty it was to know everything about navigation and thereby to control absolutely the lives of the thousands of people committed to his care without a suggestion of advice from anyone not a navigator. It does not seem likely Capt. Smith would be so influenced, but I admit the possibility and there it must be left. It is no more than a possibility, and should there be no evidence to the contrary, we ought to assume that the course and speed were controlled by Capt. Smith. There is Mrs. Ryerson’s testimony, but this Mr. Ismay denies absolutely.

  Let us remember Mr. Ismay as being questioned not by marine experts, but by men who know nothing of the sea—and less than nothing, when he is asked whether the watertight compartments were a refuge for passengers. One rather gets the impression that Mr. Ismay was prejudged before he went to the inquiry. If so, he has not been fairly treated and we must give him absolute justice.

  The Cedric messages again have been read as showing an attempt on the part of Mr. Ismay to escape inquiry, but this can be dismissed on two grounds—first, that Mr. Lightoller now accepts responsibility for sending them and would not have dreamed of sending them had he known there was to be an inquiry in America; and, secondly, Mr. Ismay knew it was quite impossible to avoid an inquiry. He knew perfectly well that he would have to stand up before marine and other experts in London and be subject to the most rigid cross-examination, and he knows today that he will still have to do it.

  The White Star Line has been criticized for not planning the boat equipment properly or for sending her to sea before her full equipment was on board.