Today the question is being asked, ‘Would the Titanic disaster be so discussed had it not been for the great wealth gathered there?’ It surely would be, for at a time like this wealth counts for nothing, but man’s philanthropy, man’s brains, man’s heroism, count forever. So many men that stood for the making of a great nation, morally and politically, were swept away by the sinking of that big ship. That is why, day after day, the world goes on asking the why of it all. Had a kind Providence a guiding hand in this? Did our nation need so mighty a stroke to prove that man had grown too self-reliant, too sure of his own power over God’s sea? God’s part was the saving of the few souls on that calmest of oceans on that fearful night. Man’s part was the pushing of the good ship, pushing against all reason, to save what? – a few hours and lose a thousand souls – to have the largest of ships arrive in port even a few hours sooner than anticipated. Risk all, but push, push on, on. The icebergs could be avoided. Surely man’s experience ought to have lent aid, but just so surely it did not.
In years past a tendency to live more simply away from pomp and display led to the founding of our American nation. Now what are we demanding today? Those same needless luxuries. If they were not demanded they would not be supplied. Gymnasiums, swimming pools, tea rooms, had better give way to make space for the necessary number of lifeboats; lifeboats for the crew, also, who help pilot the good ship across the sea.
Sitting by me in the lifeboat were a mother and daughter (Mrs. Hays and Mrs. Davidson). The mother had left a husband on the Titanic, and the daughter a father and husband, and while we were near the other boats those two stricken women would call out a name and ask, ‘Are you there?’ ‘No,’ would come back the awful answer, but these brave women never lost courage, forgot their own sorrow, telling me to sit close to them to keep warm. Now I began to wish for the warm velvet suit I left hanging in my cabin. I had thought of it for a minute, and then had quickly thrown on a lighter weight skirt. I knew the heavier one would make the life-preserver less useful. Had I only known how calm the ocean was that night, I would have felt that death was not so sure, and would have dressed for life rather than for the end. The life-preservers helped to keep us warm, but the night was bitter cold, and it grew colder and colder, and just before dawn, the coldest, darkest hour of all, no help seemed possible. As we put off from the Titanic never was a sky more brilliant, never have I seen so many falling stars. All tended to make those distress rockets that were sent up from the sinking ship look so small, so dull and futile. The brilliancy of the sky only intensified the blackness of the water, our utter loneliness on the sea. The other boats had drifted away from us; we must wait now for dawn and what the day was to bring us we dare not even hope. To see if I could not make the night seem shorter, I tried to imagine myself again in Japan. We had made two strange night departures there, and I was unafraid, and this Atlantic now was calmer than the Inland sea had been at that time. This helped a while, but my hands were freezing cold, and I had to give up pretending to think of the dawn that must soon come.
Two rough looking men had jumped into our boat as we were about to lower, and they kept striking matches, lighting cigars, until I feared we would have no matches left and might need them, so I asked them not to use any more, but they kept on. I do not know what they looked like. It was too dark to really distinguish features clearly, and when the dawn brought the light it brought something so wonderful with it no one looked at anything else or anyone else. Some one asked: ‘What time is it?’ Matches were still left; one was struck. Four o’clock! Where had the hours of the night gone? Yes, dawn would soon be here; and it came, so surely, so strong with cheer. The stars slowly disappeared, and in their place came the faint pink glow of another day. Then I heard, ‘A light, a ship.’ I could not, would not, look while there was a bit of doubt, but kept my eyes away. All night long I had heard, ‘A light!’ Each time it proved to be one of our other lifeboats, someone lighting a piece of paper, anything they could find to burn, and now I could believe. Someone found a newspaper; it was lighted and held up. Then I looked and saw a ship. A ship bright with lights; strong and steady she waited, and we were to be saved. A straw hat was offered (Mrs. Davidson’s); it would burn longer. That same ship that had come to save us might run us down. But no; she is still. The two, the ship and the dawn, came together, a living painting. White was the vessel, but whiter still were those horribly beautiful icebergs, and as we drew nearer and nearer that good ship we drew nearer to those mountains of ice. As far as the eye could reach they rose. Each one more fantastically chiselled than its neighbor. The floe glistened like a never-ending meadow covered wth new-fallen snow. Those same white mountains, marvellous in their purity, had made of the just ended night one of the blackest the sea has ever known. And near them stood the ship which had come in such quick response to the Titanic’s call for help. The man who works over hours is always the worthwhile kind, and the Marconi operator awaiting a belated message had heard the poor ship’s call for help, and we few out of so many were saved.
From the Carpathia a rope forming a tiny swing was lowered into our lifeboat, and one by one we were drawn into safety. The lady pulled up just head of me was very large, and I felt myself being jerked fearfully, when I heard some one say: ‘Careful, fellers; she’s a lightweight.’ I bumped and bumped against the side of the ship until I felt like a bag of meal. My hands were so cold I could hardly hold on to the rope, and I was fearful of letting go. Again I heard: ‘Steady, fellers; not so fast!’ I felt I should let go and bounce out of the ropes; I hardly think that would have been possible, but I felt so at the time. At last I found myself at an opening of some kind and there a kind doctor wrapped me in a warm rug and led me to the dining room, where warm stimulants were given us immediately and everything possible was done for us all. Lifeboats kept coming in, and heart-rending was the sight as widow after widow was brought aboard. Each hoped some lifeboat ahead of hers might have brought her husband safely to this waiting vessel. But always no.
I was still so cold that I had to get a towel and tie it around my waist. Then I went back to the dining-room and found dear little Louis,8 the French baby, lying alone; his cold, bare feet had become unwrapped. I put a hot water bottle against this very beautiful boy. He smiled his thanks.
Knowing how much better I felt after taking the hot stimulant, I tried to get others to take something; but often they just shook their heads and said, ‘Oh, I can’t.’
Towards night we remembered we had nothing – no comb, brush, nothing of any kind – so we went to the barber-shop. The barber always has everything, but now he had only a few toothbrushes left. I bought a cloth cap of doubtful style; and felt like a walking orphan asylum, but very glad to have anything to cover my head. There were also a few showy silk handkerchiefs left. On the corner of each was embroidered in scarlet, ‘From a friend.’ These we bought and we were now fitted out for our three remaining days at sea.
Patiently through the dismal, foggy days we lived, waiting for land and possible news of the lost. For the brave American man, a heart full of gratitude, too deep for words, sends out a thanksgiving. That such men are born, live and die for others is a cause for deep gratitude. What country could have shown such men as belong to our American manhood? Thank God for them and for their noble death.
EMERGENCY BOAT NO. 19
No disorder in loading or lowering this boat.
Passengers: Lady Duff Gordon and maid (Miss Francatelli).
Men: Lord Duff Gordon and Messrs Solomon and Stengel.
Total: 5.
Crew: Seamen: Symons (in charge), Horsewell. Firemen: Collins, Hendrickson, Pusey, Shee, Taylor.
Total: 7.
Grand Total: 12.
Incidents
G. Symons, A.B. (Br. Inq.):
Witness assisted in putting passengers in Nos. 5 and 3 under Mr. Murdoch’s orders, women and children first. He saw 5 and 3 lowered away and went to No. 1. Mr. Murdoch ordered another sailor and five fir
emen in. Witness saw two ladies running out of the Saloon Deck who asked if they could get in the boat. Murdoch said: ‘Jump in.’ The officer looked around for more, but none were in sight and he ordered to lower away, with the witness in charge. Before leaving the Boat Deck witness saw a white light a point and a half on the port bow about five miles away.
Just after boat No. 1 got away, the water was up to C Deck just under where the ship’s name is. Witness got about 200 yards away and ordered the crew to lay on their oars. The ship’s stern was well up in the air. The foremost lights had disappeared and the only light left was the mast light. The stern was up out of the water at an angle of forty-five degrees; the propeller could just be seen. The boat was pulled away a little further to escape suction; then he stopped and watched.
After the Titanic went down he heard the people shrieking for help, but was afraid to go back for fear of their swarming upon him, though there was plenty of room in the boat for eight or a dozen more. He determined on this course himself as ‘master of the situation.’10 About a day before landing in New York a present of five pounds came as a surprise to the witness from Sir Cosmo Duff Gordon.
The President: You state that you were surprised that no one in the boat suggested that you should go back to the assistance of the drowning people?
Witness: Yes.
The President: Why were you surprised?
Witness: I fully expected someone to do so.
The President: It seemed reasonable that such a suggestion should be made?
Witness: Yes; I should say it would have been reasonable.
The President: You said in America to Senator Perkins that you had fourteen to twenty passengers in the boat?
Witness: I thought I had; I was in the dark.
The President: You were not in the dark when you gave that evidence.
Witness said he thought he was asked how many people there were in the boat, all told.
The Attorney General: You meant that the 14 to 20 meant everybody?
Witness: Yes.
The Attorney General: But you know you only had twelve all told?
Witness: Yes.
The President: You must have known perfectly well when you gave this evidence that the number in your boat was twelve. Why did you tell them in America that there were fourteen to twenty in the boat?
Witness: I do not know; it was a mistake I made then and the way they muddled us up.
The Attorney General: It was a very plain question. Did you know the names of any passengers?
Witness: I knew Sir Cosmo Duff Gordon’s name when we arrived in America.
The Attorney General: Did you say anything in America about having received the five pounds?
Witness: No, sir; and I was not asked.
The Attorney General: You were asked these very questions in America which we have been putting to you today about going back?
Witness: Yes, sir.
The Attorney General: Why did you not say that you heard the cries, but in the exercise of your discretion as ‘master of the situation’ you did not go back?
Witness: They took us in three at a time in America and they hurried us through the questions.
The Attorney General: They asked you: ‘Did you make any effort to get there,’ and you said: ‘Yes; we went back and could not see anything.’ But you said nothing about your discretion. Why did you not tell them that part of the story? You realized that if you had gone back you might have rescued a good many people?
Witness: Yes.
The Attorney General: The sea was calm, the night was calm and there could not have been a more favourable night for rescuing people?
Witness: Yes.
The testimony at the American Inquiry above referred to, because of which this witness was called to account, follows:
G. Symons, L.O. (Am. Inq., p. 573):
Mr. Symons: I was in command of boat No. 1.
Senator Perkins: How many passengers did you have on her?
Mr. Symons: From fourteen to twenty.
Senator Perkins: Were they passengers or crew?
Mr. Symons: There were seven men ordered in; two seamen and five firemen. They were ordered in by Mr. Murdoch.
Senator Perkins: How many did you have all told?
Mr. Symons: I would not say for certain; it was fourteen or twenty. Then we were ordered away.
Senator Perkins: You did not return to the ship again?
Mr. Symons: Yes; we came back after the ship was gone and saw nothing.
Senator Perkins: Did you rescue anyone that was in the water?
Mr. Symons: No, sir; we saw nothing when we came back.
Witness then testified that there was no confusion or excitement among the passengers. It was just the same as if it was an everyday affair. He never saw any rush whatever to get into either of the two boats. He heard the cries of the people in the water.
Senator Perkins: Did you say your boat could take more? Did you make any effort to get them?
Mr. Symons: Yes. We came back, but when we came back we did not see anybody or hear anybody.
He says that his boat could have accommodated easily ten more. He was in charge of her and was ordered away by Officer Mudoch. Did not pull back to the ship again until she went down.
Senator Perkins: And so you made no attempt to save any other people after you were ordered to pull away from the ship by someone?
Mr. Symons: I pulled off and came back after the ship had gone down.
Senator Perkins: And then there were no people there?
Mr. Symons: No, sir; I never saw any.
C.E.H. Stengel, first-class passenger (Am. Inq., p. 971):
There was a small boat they called an Emergency boat in which were three people, Sir Duff Gordon, his wife and Miss Francatelli. I asked to get into the boat. There was no one else around that I could see except the people working at the boats. The officer said: ‘Jump in.’ The railing was rather high. I jumped onto it and rolled into the boat. The officer said: ‘That’s the funniest thing I have seen tonight,’ and laughed heartily. After getting down part of the way the boat began to tip and somebody ‘hollered’ to stop lowering. A man named A.L. Soloman also asked to get in with us. There were five passengers, three stokers and two seamen in the boat.
Senator Smith: Do you know who gave instructions?
Mr. Stengel: I think between Sir Cosmo Duff Gordon and myself we decided which way to go. We followed a light that was to the bow of the ship…. Most of the boats rowed toward that light, and after the green lights began to burn I suggested that it was better to turn around and go towards them. They were from another lifeboat. When I got into the boat it was right up against the side of the ship. If it had not been, I would have gone right out into the water because I rolled. I did not step in it; I just simply rolled. There was one of the icebergs particularly that I noticed – a very large one which looked something like the Rock of Gibraltar.
The Duff Gordon Episode
Charles Henricksen, leading fireman (Br. Inq.):
When the ship sank we picked up nobody. The passengers would not listen to our going back. Of the twelve in the boat, seven were of the crew. Symons, who was in charge, said nothing and we all kept our mouths shut. None of the crew objected to going back. It was a woman who objected, Lady Duff Gordon, who said we would be swamped. People screaming for help could be heard by everyone in our boat. I suggested going back. Heard no one else do so. Mr. Duff Gordon upheld his wife.
After we got on the Carpathia Gordon sent for them all and said he would make them a present. He was surprised to receive five pounds from him the day after docking in New York.
Hendricksen recalled.
Witness cross examined by Sir Cosmo Duff Gordon’s counsel.
What did you say about Sir Cosmo’s alleged statement preventing you from going back?
Witness: It was up to us to go back.
Did anyone in the boat say anything to you about going back?
&
nbsp; Witness: Lady Duff Gordon said something to the effect that if we went back the boat would be swamped.
Who was it that first said anything about Sir Cosmo making a presentation to the crew?
Witness: Fireman Collins came down and said so when we were on board the Carpathia.
Before we left the Carpathia all the people rescued were photographed together. We members of the crew wrote our names on Lady Duff Gordon’s life-belt. From the time we first left off rowing until the time the vessel sank, Lady Duff Gordon was violently seasick and lying on the oars.
Titanic: A Survivor's Story Page 17
