Voices from the Titanic

by Geoff Tibballs

  The grief of Mrs Futrelle was pitiful in the extreme when she learnt of the probable death of Mr Futrelle.

  Not one of the survivors from the Titanic had a more heartbreaking tale. Surrounded by loving friends she told part of the terrible story.

  Five times Mrs Futrelle was thrust into the lifeboat by her husband. Each time she returned crying that she wanted to die with him. Mr Futrelle finally induced her to remain in a lifeboat after explaining to her that he had on a life saving jacket and would take a chance of being rescued from the icy water.

  Alone, he told her, he would be able to keep himself afloat but that with her in his arms both would surely be drowned.

  The scene which took place as I sat in the room with Mrs Futrelle was most pathetic. There was not a dry eye in the room.

  In the arms of her woman friends who sought to console her, Mrs Futrelle between hysterical sobs gasped out parts of the story of that horrible night. This is the story that Mrs Futrelle told me:

  When the smash came Jack had retired. I was taking a bath. There was a frightful concussion. There was a rush of feet from every part of the boat.

  There were screams of fright from the women. The terrible crashing sound as the ship struck the iceberg cannot be portrayed in words.

  Jack sprung from his bed. I think it was about 10.30 when we struck the iceberg. He told me to dress as quick as possible and that he would go out on deck and find out what had happened. He was only half dressed when he left the state room.

  When he returned within a few moments, I saw in his eyes that something terrible had happened. He was white and trembling a little, but cool.

  ‘Come, dear,’ he said. ‘Come with me.’

  With his arm around me we went out on deck. The scene was terrible. Women were screaming and clinging to the men. At this time the lights had not gone out.

  The officers and crew were at their posts with drawn revolvers. Every effort was made to quiet the panic-stricken thousands. The officers shouted above the din that there was nothing to fear.

  The half light showed the shadow of an iceberg. It seemed to me that the great ship had broken in two.

  I don’t know how long a time elapsed before the lifeboats were lowered, but it could have been but a short while after the boat struck.

  The men in the first cabin, following the instructions of the officers, stood back and made way for the women and children. Oh, but they were brave! Knowing that they were going to their death, they smiled and assured their women, who were clinging to them in an agony of fear, that all would turn out right and urged them to get into the lifeboats.

  The crew of the ship were urging all the men to put on life jackets.

  When the rush of the men from the steerage came it was different. The men in the steerage poured up on the deck and fought like demons to get in the lifeboats. Oh, it was awful.

  I will not attempt to quote Mrs Futrelle’s description of her parting with her husband. It was a story of heroism, sacrifice and love for woman that deserves to go down in history.

  Mrs Futrelle broke down completely when telling of her separation from Jack. She said that all about her, women were clinging to their husbands.

  Mrs Futrelle was mercifully saved for a few hours from the terrible scenes which took place about her. The sea was alive with human beings crying for assistance. Great cakes of ice floated on the water and the intense cold killed many. ‘When the dawn broke,’ said Mrs Futrelle, ‘I noticed that there were four women aboard and some men from steerage.’

  Then came one of the most horrible experiences which could befall a human being. Mrs Futrelle told of seeing a man floating near the boat whom she thought was her husband. The man was encased in a life jacket. Urged by Mrs Futrelle the crew of the boat moved in the direction of the floating body.

  She called out to the man, ‘Jack, Jack,’ and stretched out imploring hands. For an instant she was possessed of the wild hope that it might be her husband. Even to have secured his dead body would have been consolatory.

  The boat pulled alongside of the man. It was not Jacques Futrelle.

  To what depth of agonized disappointment Mrs Futrelle was plunged can only be imagined by one who heard her tell her heartbreaking story. The man was pulled aboard. Life was not extinct and an effort was made to resuscitate him. The effort was fruitless. The man died and his body remained in the boat with the terrified woman.

  (Boston Post, 19 April 1912)

  Returning to America on the Titanic following his wedding in France, forty-nine-year-old Dr Henry W. Frauenthal and his new bride, Clara, were two of the lucky ones. But the suffering he had witnessed would continue to haunt him.

  When the ship first struck, none of us dreamed of the danger we faced. All who had been asleep after the first rush to the decks returned to their cabins to dress.

  When the word came that we were sinking and the lifeboats were ordered over the side, the panic was fearful. From all sides came shrieks and groans and cries, and it seemed as if all the devils of hell had been let loose.

  Just now I am so thankful to be alive that my appreciation of the horror is dulled. I am only afraid that when I recover from the first shock it will all come back to me again, and I would rather have gone down with the boat, I think, than have to live over again, even in my imagination, the last few minutes of that fearful night.

  I would rather have stayed, too, than know that women went down with the Titanic, but I swear we thought every woman on the ship had been placed safely in the boats. It was ‘women first’ with all of the men, and at least it seemed as if the decks had been cleared of them, for not one was to be seen save those already lowered. Then the officers ordered the men to leave the sinking vessel and we left for the boats, not knowing, any one of us, I think, how many of our fellow men we were leaving behind as prey to death.

  (US press, 19 April 1912)

  Parisian passenger George Rheims had travelled first-class on the Titanic from Southampton to New York with his brother-in-law Joseph Loring. Rheims relived the sinking in a letter to his wife, dated 19 April 1912, in which he claimed to have witnessed the suicide of First Officer William Murdoch.

  I dined with Joe Sunday evening and went up to my cabin to go to sleep around 11 p.m. I felt, being in the front part of the ship, a strong shock and heard a noise that sounded like steam escaping, it was dreadful. I thought we had an accident in the engine. After one fourth of an hour there was an announcement informing us that we had collided with an iceberg but that there was no danger and we should all go back to sleep!!! Since I noticed that the ship wasn’t listing I thought nothing of it. Soon after Joe came to join me and we stayed together until the end. Around 11.30 all passengers left their cabins. The ship tilted more and more. An officer came to tell us to put on our life jackets. You can well imagine how this news affected me!

  I went down to my cabin to put on some warm clothing and my life jacket. Joe did the same and rejoined me on the boat deck, where by now a crowd of people gathered. We started lowering the lifeboats down in the ocean – sixteen lifeboats for 3,000 people. The men were forbidden to use the lifeboats. A few men – traitors – did not hesitate to jump into the lifeboats just the same. In general the people’s attitude was admirable. It took one and a half hours for all sixteen lifeboats to be lowered. A few of them were only half full. While the last boat was leaving, I saw an officer with a revolver fire a shot and kill a man who was trying to climb into it. As there remained nothing more to do, the officer told us, ‘Gentlemen, each man for himself, goodbye.’ He gave a military salute and then fired a bullet into his head. That’s what I call a man!!!

  We were about 1,500 people left on board without any means of escape. It was death for us all. I can not convey how calm everyone was. We said goodbye to all our friends and everyone prepared himself to die properly. Joe took both my hands and said, ‘George, if you survive, look after my babies. If I live you will not have to worry about Mary.’ I did not lose on
e second of composure and had decided to jump overboard to save myself by swimming. I can not describe the unbelievable things I saw at that moment. Suddenly the ship started nosediving and I was thrown to the deck by an explosion. I found myself entangled in chairs and ropes. I was able to free myself. Joe wanted to go back in the rear of the ship. I told him it would mean death and that he should follow me. He told me that he could not swim well enough. Then I took my momentum and jumped overboard. The fall seemed endless, then suddenly icy cold and a long plunge down into the ocean. When I came up again I started swimming vigorously to get away from the ship fearing that I would be dragged down with it. It was frightfully cold. Suddenly I saw the Titanic going straight down with horrible explosions and piercing screams. All the passengers were pressed against the railing like flies. There was a big whirlpool swirling movement, then silence. Suddenly there were pitiful pleas that I will never forget. It was all those who were able to float crying for help. It was atrociously grim, mysterious – supernatural. This lasted for half an hour, then all was quiet. The poor people went down.

  I swam alone in the night, when at a distance I noticed a raft, half sunk and filled with men. It took me I suppose fifteen minutes to reach it. At first they refused to let me come aboard, but I was able to persuade them after all. I stood up on the raft. We were about twenty men and women, with icy water up to our thighs. We had to balance ourselves to avoid capsizing. I stayed six hours in my underwear, shaking with cold. Twice I thought of throwing myself into the ocean and each time the thought of you held me back. I regained courage and resumed – I don’t know how – my efforts to stay on the raft. What a horrible night! We had to push back about ten poor people who wanted to climb aboard. We were filled to the limit. During the night eight people died from cold or desperation. I am sparing you the details for they are too frightful. I had the pleasure to be able to save a poor man, father of nine children, who asked me to give him a picture of myself with a dedication fit for the King of England. At 8.00 in the morning a lifeboat from the Titanic came to pick us up and took us aboard the Carpathia. They took marvellous care of us.

  I had some trouble walking, my feet being frostbitten. I think that a little rest of a few days will do me a lot of good.

  I affirm that I am a little tired. You must not hold it against me for ending this letter so abruptly.

  WHITE STAR LINE WELCOMES INQUIRY, SAYS MR FRANKLIN

  A tense feeling of expectancy pervaded the city, especially downtown all morning yesterday, and the officials of the White Star Line showed the great strain under which they are suffering in their every word and motion. From earliest dawn till the actual word came that the Carpathia had been sighted at Sandy Hook rumours ran rife that she would be delayed possibly till this morning, because of the rain and the fog that had settled over the harbour in the forenoon.

  Vice-President Franklin of the White Star Line declared all day that he had no direct communication from the Carpathia, but through the Cunard Line he received one or two messages indicating that the ship was making her way right along and that he expected her to reach Sandy Hook by seven o’clock and her dock some time between nine and ten. The event proved that he was right and that the prognosticators of delay were wrong.

  Mr Franklin admitted that he had received during the day personal messages from J. Bruce Ismay, managing director of White Star Line. It was learnt that one of these messages dealt with the engaging of rooms at the Ritz-Carlton for Mr and Mrs Ismay. Mr Franklin said that he was sure Mr Ismay was under the deepest distress because of the disaster, but he denied a rumour that Mr Ismay was mentally unbalanced.

  ‘We will know nothing till the ship docks,’ said Mr Franklin, ‘concerning the condition of her passengers. As a precautionary measure we have ordered several ambulances and we have also retained physicians and taken all other measures for the relief of any sick, injured or destitute aboard the Carpathia. There must be some, but we have no specific news of any.

  ‘The White Star Line,’ added Mr Franklin, ‘finds itself in a very unpleasant situation owing to what we consider unfair and unjust criticism. We have given the Press every atom of information we have been able to get just as soon as we could get it. Yet we are constantly accused of holding back important news. We are doing all we can to relieve the situation. Yet one would think to read the papers, that we are acting in a cruel and high-handed manner towards the survivors.

  ‘I wish to say that the White Star Line, so far from trying to escape any government inquiry, courts and solicits such an inquiry by both the US and British governments. These inquiries cannot be too broad for us, and if they result in the adoption of any measures calculated to prevent the recurrence of such a disaster as the Titanic’s loss the White Star Line will be only too thankful that such has been the outcome.

  ‘Mr Ismay will not shirk his duty, nor will any other officer at the company. All the information the Senate committee seeks will be cheerfully afforded and we will co-operate in every way with the committee.’

  A report was current that J. P. Morgan had intended to return to New York on the Titanic’s maiden trip, but had changed his mind some weeks ago. Henry C. Frick and Mrs Frick had engaged state rooms but owing to an accident to Mrs Frick in Europe the state rooms were transferred to Mr Morgan, who later cancelled the engagement, so ran the report. The story could not be verified at the White Star offices.

  (New York World, 19 April 1912)

  BOATS FOR 1,178 MR BUXTON’S STATEMENT IN THE COMMONS

  A clear statement on the number of boats and life-saving appliances carried by the Titanic was made yesterday in the House of Commons by the President of the Board of Trade in answer to questions.

  ‘Coming to the actual facts of the case,’ said Mr Buxton, ‘the present rule of the Board of Trade with regard to shipping of 10,000 tons and upwards requires a minimum boat accommodation of 9,625 cubic feet (that is, sixteen boats under davits with a capacity of 5,500 cubic feet and an addition of 75 per cent, in the shape of other boats, rafts, etc). This would provide for about 960 persons.

  ‘The Titanic actually carried sixteen boats under davits, with accommodation for 990 persons, and four Engelhardt boats accommodating 188 persons in addition. That is, altogether, accommodation for 1,178 persons. Besides these, there were 48 lifebuoys and 3,560 lifebelts.

  ‘The total number of passengers and crew which the vessel was certified to carry was 3,547, and on the recent voyage the actual number on board when the vessel left Queenstown was 2,208.’

  Mr Buxton began his statement by explaining that the Board of Trade were empowered by Sec. 427 of the Merchant Shipping Act, 1894, to make rules for life-saving appliances on British ships, and Sec. 428 required owner and master to give effect to the rules.

  The rules now in force were originally drawn up in 1890, and revised in 1894 and subsequently, and prescribed a scale indicating the minimum number of boats to be provided in accordance with the gross tonnage of the ship.

  The highest provision made in this scale was for vessels of 10,000 tons and upwards. In view of the increased size of modern passenger steamers the Board of Trade early last year referred to the Advisory Committee on Merchant Shipping the question of the revision of the rules, and in particular the provision to be made in the case of steamers of very large size.

  After considering this report, together with the views of their expert advisers, the Board of Trade were not satisfied that the increased provision recommended by the Advisory Committee was altogether adequate. After additional investigations and tests in regard to the best type and proportions of lifeboats, the Board within the last few days referred the question back to the Committee for further examination.

  Boats For All Unnecessary

  He did not desire to forecast in any way the result of the inquiry which would be held into the loss of the Titanic, or any modification of policy that might be necessitated by the finding of that inquiry or by the new situation created by the present d
isaster. He wished the House, however, to understand quite clearly that up to the present it had never been the intention of the Board of Trade regulations, and so far as he knew it had not been suggested by any responsible expert authority, that every vessel, however large and however well equipped as regarded watertight compartments, should necessarily carry lifeboats adequate to accommodate all on board.

  (Daily Graphic, 19 April 1912)

  ‘TO MY FELLOW SUFFERERS’

  Touching Message From The Wife Of The Captain

  The following message from Mrs E. J. Smith, widow of Captain Smith, was posted at Southampton yesterday afternoon.

  ‘To my poor fellow sufferers: My heart overflows with grief for you all, and is laden with sorrow that you are weighed down with this terrible burden that has been thrust upon us.

  ‘May God be with us and comfort us all. – Yours in deep sympathy, Eleanor Smith.’

  (Daily Graphic, 19 April 1912)

  WEEPING CROWDS BESIEGE PIERS

  Friends of Steerage Survivors Learn Record Was Not Kept

  Another drama of sorrow, rage and despair was enacted around the Cunard dock yesterday, where Thursday night the pier groaned beneath the weight of grief and joy when the rescue ship Carpathia brought Titanic survivors to land.

  It was the relatives and friends of the steerage passengers of the wrecked liner who haunted the pier yesterday. The night previous while loved ones of those on the first and second cabin list of the Titanic were given passes to the pier and permitted to strain their hearts for those succoured from the leviathan that was, a pitiful crowd of poorly dressed men, women and children from the East Side pleaded and stormed behind police lines for the same privilege. They were denied access to the pier. Those whom they sought to see were hurried off to hospitals, Salvation Army homes, the Municipal Lodging House, and missions. Not a glimpse did they get of anxious loved ones.

  When the last of the survivors had been taken off and the pier was cleared, this crowd of the disappointed invaded the dock. Then it was that officials remembered that in the hurry and excitement of the landing no record had been kept of where the steer-age passengers were sent. Grief-stricken men and women poured out their hearts in protestation and appeal, but officials could give them no news of their loved ones.