Voices from the Titanic

by Geoff Tibballs

  Once the water touched the boilers the end of the Titanic was not long delayed. Immediately after the collision with the iceberg – within two or three minutes – the engines were stopped, and there arose the sound of the escaping steam. But what was more alarming was the inrush of water, which caused the hissing in the machinery. There was an early explosion, which led to the fracture of the main fabric of the vessel, and a few minutes after the bow portion disappeared. Then the machinery took charge, and within another twenty minutes the great vessel had passed from view.

  Mr Littlejohn mentioned that when he came up on deck the first time he found broken ice to the depth of two feet in the forward well-deck, this showing that the berg was above the surface of the water. He added that on the arrival of the Carpathia the stewards resumed their normal occupation and assisted in looking after the passengers who had been rescued.

  With reference to the experiences on the Carpathia, it was generally agreed amongst the stewards that Mr Bruce Ismay did not appear during the voyage and that he kept himself in the cabin and was under medical treatment. It is asserted that he refused to take food, and that the only thing he consumed until he reached New York was water.

  In the course of conversations yesterday morning our representatives gained some additional information of interest. One of those, a waiter named Percy Keene on the ill-starred ship, described the collision as being violent enough to awaken everyone in the Titanic who was asleep, though it partook of the nature of a prolonged trembling such as he had before experienced at sea when a vessel had shed a propeller. That that was the case was generally believed in the ‘glory hole’, a central suite used by the stewards’ mess, in which is a winding staircase leading to the top deck.

  Presently, he said, the engines, which had at once slowed down, entirely stopped and they were never restarted.

  Capt. Smith went to the bridge, closed the watertight doors and sent for Mr Andrews, designer of the vessel. Together they went below to the scene of the damage and found many of the fore-holds full of water. The extent of the ripping of plates was such as to convince the captain of the seriousness of the damage, and he communicated this to Mr Bruce Ismay, whom he joined on the bridge.

  Steps to secure safety were quietly proceeded with from that moment, though the stewards had the greatest difficulty to persuade many of the souls on board to leave their state rooms, the women being especially loath to get up.

  Mr Keene said he had come to the conclusion that the high loss of life among the female passengers of the third class was due to their lack of knowledge as to how to reach the boat deck. Many of them must have become hopelessly lost in the hull of the leviathan when her doom became obvious. Fright and hopelessness doubtless accounted for many.

  There were no end of small rafts secured, he added, but in the darkness it was very difficult to make effective use of them. The handling of the collapsible boats was also hampered by the night. ‘Many, many more would have been saved if daylight had come soon after the accident. We should have been able to open the lower gangways and pass the people down by rope ladders, but that was impossible in the prevailing blackness.’

  Shortly before the special train steamed out of the docks, two of the stewardesses who are returning to their homes – Mrs Gold and Mrs Martin – granted a brief interview, in which they narrated their experiences. They were first-class stewardesses on the Titanic, and were both saved in No. 11 boat. They had been old ‘shipmates’, having sailed together in the Olympic and the Adriatic whilst earlier in their careers they were both on the Cedric, of the same line.

  When the alarm, or the first idea of alarm, came to us, said one, we were sleeping. We received the notification with much amusement, and quite ignored what we thought was a joke. We were advised to get up and put our lifebelts on, but we did not stir. It was only when Mr Andrews, one of the principals of Messrs Harland & Wolff, the builders of the ship, came to us and told us to hurry up on deck that we began to realize the urgency of the situation.

  On deck, they continued, the bandsmen were playing ‘ragtime’ music as the crew were getting out the boats, and it was a noteworthy fact that so interested and engrossed in their duty were these gallant musicians that they would not stop playing to put on the lifebelts which were brought to them. The ladies put on their own belts, yet were laughing and joking all the time, considering they were obeying orders which were part of drill. When ordered to the boats, though, they began to realize otherwise.

  GERMANS HIDE IN A BOAT

  In No. 11 boat there were seventy-five people, sixty-two being women. After pulling away from the side of the Titanic it was found two German males had concealed themselves in the boat before she was lowered. They were found under the seats, and one of them refused to come out, wrapping Mrs Gold’s skirts around him for warmth. One of the crew prodded him several times with an oar yet failed to induce him to budge an inch. His compatriot did take his share of work at the oars, but the skulking fellow was permanently idle – except when he was once heard counting out his money!

  The first boat to leave the ship was full of firemen, but that was because few ladies were willing to go, and it was imperative to fill the boats. The other members of the crew saved were those required to man the boats and those who saved themselves at the last moment by jumping overboard to chance being able to float until picked up. Many more could have been saved if the imminence of the danger had been realized at the time of the first alarm.

  Why so many ladies hung back at first, said one of the stewardesses, was because the experience presenting itself was an awesome one, the mere act of getting into the boats being a difficult one, and the long lowering in the water presenting terrifying prospects.

  She confirmed the statement that it was a brilliant, starlit night, and Mrs Martin said she was almost the only woman insufficiently robed. At first she was little inconvenienced, but when the breeze sprang up they had the greatest difficulty in keeping up the circulation in the icy cold.

  Mr Bruce Ismay helped all he could to get the women into the boats. He implored one group of stewardesses to take their place with the others. The reply was: ‘But we are only stewardesses, sir!’ when he said: ‘You are women; please get in at once,’ and he insisted on their doing so. ‘We saw him later on when he was sitting on the gunwale of one of the last boats to leave. He had nothing on but his pyjamas and an overcoat and was blue with the cold.’

  Mrs Gold said they did not sight the Carpathia until just before the sun was rising. One of the sailors caused the only laugh that was heard in the boat when, as a bird rose from the water, he facetiously said: ‘I like a bird that sings in the morning.’

  We didn’t talk very much, she added, and almost the only sounds we had to attract our attention were the cries of the babies in the boat. This was, of course, after we had heard the last of the despairing shrieks of those who went down in the liner and those were left swimming in the water when she disappeared.

  Mrs Gold said the behaviour of the older children in the lifeboat was splendid, and they were a great consolation to the women. Other people, she continued, were Mrs A. Ryerson, of Philadelphia, and her two daughters. Mr Ryerson was a victim and went down with the ship. They had been coming over from Europe in consequence of a cablegram received announcing that one of the sons of Mr Ryerson had been killed in a motor accident.

  PORTUGUESE BRIDE’S GRIEF

  Another of the women passengers in this lifeboat was a Portuguese bride on her honeymoon, whose husband was lost. A pathetic scene was witnessed in the early morning when the Carpathia appeared in sight. The bride was full of joy in the belief that it was still the Titanic, and that the husband, consequently, was yet safe. When she was disillusioned her grief was something terrible to witness. She broke down and cried piteously, being quite inconsolable.

  ‘The steerage matron, Mrs Wallis,’ continued one of the stewardesses, ‘refused to leave her room when summoned to do so. She disregarded all warnings,
and said, “I am not going on deck. I am quite safe here.” ’

  Another person who refused to leave her bedroom was the second cabin stewardess, Mrs Snape, a young widow, of Southampton, twenty-one years of age. She leaves a little girl. She was seen busy tying on lifebelts on her passengers, and as she did so she wished them all ‘Goodbye’. She refused suggestions that she should hurry to deck herself, telling some of the passengers and the stewardesses that she did not expect to see them again.

  CAPTAIN’S LAST WORDS

  C. Maynard, aged thirty, who was a cook on the Titanic, was picked up from the bottom of a collapsible boat, to which he had clung for several hours, with many other survivors of the tragedy.

  I was asleep at the time of the disaster, said Maynard, but the shock which aroused me was not a serious one. The engines stopped suddenly, but they never went astern. Aroused from my sleep, I went to the top deck, and was told off with others to No. 4 boat. Then I was ordered to one of the lower decks to open the windows to let the passengers get in. After this had been done I went back on the boat deck to find all the lifeboats had been launched, only a few collapsible boats being left.

  By this time the Titanic was down by the stern and was rapidly sinking. Then I saw Captain Smith on the bridge. A rush of water washed me overboard, and as I went I clung on to one of our upturned boats. There were some six other men clinging to the woodwork when we were in the water. I saw Captain Smith washed from the bridge, and afterwards saw him swimming in the water. He was still fully dressed, with his cap on his head. One of the men clinging to the raft tried to save him by reaching out a hand, but he would not let him, and called out, ‘Look after yourselves, boys.’ I do not know what became of the captain, but I suppose he sank.

  We were clinging to the upturned boat for two or three hours before we were picked up by one of the lifeboats just before daybreak.

  Thomas Threlfall, a leading stoker, states that he was off duty at the time of the collision and in his bunk. When he got on deck about midnight Second Engineer Everitt told him to get all the men below. He went below to section No. 4, and took on with the stoking.

  I had ten firemen and four trimmers under me, he continued, and we had to look after five double boilers with thirty fires; that is, fifteen fires in each stokehold. I don’t mind telling you that it did not feel nice going down below because we knew that a bad accident had happened, but every man Jack of my gang went on with his work and never murmured. The engineers were running about a lot, and this made things look black, but my men went on with the stoking until about 1.30 a.m.

  Then we were warned that the end was close at hand, and we were ordered to come on deck. All the fires had been drawn, and what trouble there was with the boilers must have been caused when steam had been largely reduced.

  The fourth funnel of the Titanic was chiefly a ventilating shaft, and was used to carry off the vapours and steam from the kitchens of the ship. It contained a winding staircase, by which there was communication between the stokehold and the topmost deck.

  CHIEF CONSTABLE’S TRIBUTE

  Presiding at a meeting in Ebenezer Church last evening, the Chief Constable of Plymouth (Mr J. D. Sowerby) paid a warm tribute to the survivors who came to England on the Lapland.

  On Sunday he said he spent eight hours in the Great Western Docks assisting others to make as comfortable as possible the rescued members of the Titanic’s crew. He conversed with many, and was impressed by the different views expressed. One of the seamen told him that he was in the sea for two and a half hours. His hands had swollen in the icy water to three times their ordinary size, and just before he was picked up he had almost abandoned hope. The survivor added that he trembled at the thought of going to sea again; whilst another man, taking quite a different view, said, ‘Well, you know, a thing like this only happens once in a thousand years.’

  (Western Daily Mercury, 30 April 1912)

  THE ENGINEERS STOKER’S THRILLING STORY

  One of the most interesting of survivors, a leading stoker, or ‘captain stoker’, who was on duty in the stokehold in the very bowels of the ship at the time she struck the iceberg, and who stayed there facing death until driven out by the inrush of water, tells a graphic story. He is a fine, stalwart North of England man, says the Manchester Guardian, who has stoked many of the White Star liners across the Atlantic. He is Mr H. G. Harvey, son of the late Mr J. Thompson Harvey, of Belfast. This is the first account from the stokehold to be published. He said:

  I am a leading fireman, and I was on the eight to twelve o’clock watch, so I was on duty when the collision with the iceberg occurred. There were three stokeholds in the Titanic built athwart ship, and there would be 83 men in that watch – namely 54 stokers, 23 coal trimmers, and six leading firemen. Eight of us out of the 83 are now alive. Two of them were detained to give evidence in New York; the others are here. The rest of the 83 were drowned. There were thirteen men working in my section; two of those thirteen were saved. We were working away, and thinking our watch was nearly up, when all of a sudden the starboard side of the ship came in on us. It burst in like big guns going off, and the water came pouring in. It swilled our legs, and we made a dash into the next section and slammed the watertight door to, quick. There was no time to waste. My section was about one-third of the ship’s length from the bows, and we found that the whole of the starboard side was smashed in as far aft as our section. Well, we got into the next section aft, and there we stayed, for being on the watch it was our business to stay. I did not think, and nobody thought at the time, that the Titanic could sink.

  Not a Man Saved

  There was a poor fellow named Shepherd, an engineer, who joined at Southampton, whose leg was broken. When the side was stove in we carried him into the pump-room near our section, and there he lay with his broken leg, cursing because he was unable to be of any further assistance. There would have been time at first to carry him up if we had thought the ship would sink. I don’t know whether he was carried up afterwards, but at any rate we know he was not saved, for there were thirty-six engineers aboard, and not a man of them was saved. They talked in America of millionaire heroes, but what of the engineers? They stuck to their work to the last, and went down with the ship. They kept the engines going until three minutes before the Titanic went out of sight. They were the heroes, I think. Those who in the ordinary way would have gone off duty stayed on the couple of extra hours, and they died like men.

  Some time after I and my chaps got into the next section most of the stokers were sent up on deck, but I went up and brought twenty of them down again to keep the boilers going. Afterwards they were sent up again, and three engineers and I had orders to stop where we were. The engineers were there to work the section pumps to try to pump the water out of the section from which we had been driven. Harvey was the engineer in charge of us. Wilson was the second, and Shepherd was the third. While we were there the electric lights went out, and I was sent creeping along the alleyway to fetch some lamps. When I got back the lights were on again, and we found they had been switching from the main dynamos to the emergency dynamos, which were situated in the fourth funnel, which was a dummy funnel. So we had light again, and we stuck to the job. Then all of a sudden the water came with a rush into where we were.

  How it came in I don’t know, but in it came and Harvey, the engineer, said to me, ‘Get up on deck.’ I was nearly swilled off my feet, but I managed to get out, and I reached the deck beneath the boat deck. I knew then that the ship must sink, for the forecastle head was under water, but men were leaning up against the saloon walls smoking cigarettes, and no one seemed alarmed. I dared not say what I believed for fear of causing panic. When I got on the deck a lifeboat was hanging from the davits, and the boatswain, who knew me, as I had sailed with him in other ships before, said to me, ‘You go in this boat and pull an oar.’ I took his orders, and got in as she swung from the davits. When they had lowered us I had to cut the ropes, as she was so crowded I coul
d not free her otherwise. It was No. 13 lifeboat, and we had in her sixty women, eight other men, and two little babies, one two months and the other ten months old. One of the men was one of the lookout men. He is now in New York. The women were of all kinds – Irish emigrants, Scandinavians, and others. I had to take charge of the boat and steer, as most of the men were stewards, and knew little about boat work. It was bitterly cold, and one of the women, seeing how cold I was at the tiller, wrapped her cloak round me. I should have been glad to pull an oar.

  Bravery of Women

  The two babies were wrapped in blankets, and they both survived, poor little things. Those women were brave, if you like. They never cried, although most of them had husbands in the ship, and man, I tell you, when the ship sank and the moans of the drowning came over the water, one of those women began right away to sing a hymn. It was this: ‘Eternal Father, Strong to Save.’ She sang it out so that the other women should not listen to those pitiful moans, and we all joined in and sang. It was only the moaning of the hundreds who were being chilled to death in the icy water. It was too cold for them to be able to shout. Well, it was ten minutes past one when I entered the boat, and we had to row away for fear the boat might be sucked down. We rowed away, and we watched the Titanic until she sank. She looked like a great lighted theatre floating on the sea. We saw her head sink until her stern was right out of the water with the propellers in the air. Then she broke in half, the weight of the half out of the water being too great a strain, I suppose. The after end sunk down level with the water for a few moments, and then as the water rushed in it went down at an angle again and slid down gently beneath the waves. We were too far off to see any of those who jumped into the water, and our boat was too full for us to dare to go back. Most of those who jumped into the sea died within a quarter of an hour, for the awful moaning ceased after that. We saw nothing but ice and dead bodies.