The Sinking of the Titanic

by Bruce M. Caplan

  JACQUES FUTRELLE

  Jacques Futrelle was an author of short stories, some of which have appeared in the Saturday Evening Post, and of many novels of the same general type as “The Thinking Machine” with which he first gained a wide popularity. Newspaper work, chiefly in Richmond, VA., engaged his attention from 1890 to 1902, in which year he entered the theatrical business as a manager. In 1904 he returned to his journalistic career.

  HENRY B. HARRIS

  Henry B. Harris, the theater manager, had been manager of May Irwin, Peter Dailey, Lily Langtry, Amelia Bingham, and launched Robert Edeson as a star. He became the manager of the Hudson Theater in 1903 and the Hackett Theater in 1906. Among his best known productions are “The Lion and the Mouse,” “The Traveling Salesman” and “The Third Degree.” He was president of the Henry B. Harris Company controlling the Harris Theater.

  Young Harris had a liking for the theatrical business from a boy. Twelve years ago Mr. Harris married Miss Rene Wallach of Washington. He was said to have a fortune of between $1,000,000 and $3,000,000. He owned outright the Hudson and the Harris theaters and had an interest in two other show houses in New York. He owned three theaters in Chicago, one in Syracuse and one in Philadelphia.

  HENRY S. HARPER

  Henry Sleeper Harper, who was among the survivors, was a grandson of John Wesley Harper, one of the founders of the Harper publishing business. H. Sleeper Harper was himself an incorporator of Harper & Brothers when the firm became a corporation in 1896. He had a desk in the offices of the publishers, but his hand, of late years, in the management of the business had been very slight. He had been active in the work of keeping the Adirondack forests free from aggression. He was in the habit of spending about half of his time in foreign travel. His friends in New York recalled that he had a narrow escape about ten years ago when a ship in which he was traveling ran into an iceberg on the Grand Banks.

  FRANCIS DAVID MILLET

  Millet was one of the best-known American painters and many of his canvasses are found in the leading galleries of the world. He served as a drummer boy with the Sixtieth Massachusetts volunteers in the Civil War, and from early manhood took a prominent part in public affairs. He was director of the decorations for the Chicago Exposition and was, at the time of the disaster, secretary of the American Academy in Rome. He was a wide traveler and the author of many books, besides translations of Tolstoi.

  CHARLES M. HAYS

  Another person of prominence was Charles Melville Hays, president of the Grand Trunk and the Grand Trunk Pacific railways. He was described by Sir Wilfrid Laurier at a dinner of the Canadian Club of New York, at the Hotel Astor last year, as “beyond question the greatest railroad genius in Canada, as an executive genius ranking second only to the late Edward H. Harriman.” He was returning aboard the Titanic with his wife and son-in-law and daughter, Mr. and Mrs. Thornton Davidson, of Montreal.

  CHAPTER V

  THE TITANIC STRIKES AN ICEBERG

  TARDY ATTENTION TO WARNING RESPONSIBLE FOR ACCIDENT—THE DANGER NOT REALIZED AT FIRST—AN INTERRUPTED CARD GAME— PASSENGERS JOKE AMONG THEMSELVES—THE REAL TRUTH DAWNS—PANIC ON BOARD—WIRELESS CALLS FOR HELP

  SUNDAY night the magnificent ocean liner was plunging through a comparatively placid sea, on the surface of which there was much mushy ice and here and there a number of comparatively harmless-looking floes. The night was clear and stars visible. First Officer William T. Murdock was in charge of the bridge. The first intimation of the presence of the iceberg that he received was from the lookout in the crow’s nest.

  Three warnings were transmitted from the crow’s nest of the Titanic to the officer on the doomed steamship’s bridge 15 minutes before she struck, according to Thomas Whiteley, a first saloon steward.

  Whiteley, who was whipped overboard from the ship by a rope while helping to lower a life-boat, finally reported on the Carpathia aboard one of the boats that contained, he said, both the crow’s nest lookouts. He heard a conversation between them, he asserted, in which they discussed the warnings given to the Titanic’s bridge of the presence of the iceberg.

  Whiteley did not know the names of either of the lookout men and believed that they returned to England with the majority of the surviving members of the crew.

  “I heard one of them say that at 11.15 o’clock, 15 minutes before the Titanic struck, he had reported to First Officer Murdock, on the bridge, that he fancied he saw an iceberg,” said Whiteley. “Twice after that, the lookout said, he warned Murdock that a berg was ahead. They were very indignant that no attention was paid to their warnings.”

  A GRAPHIC ILLUSTRATION OF THE FORCE WITH WHICH A

  VESSEL STRIKES AN ICEBERG

  TARDY ATTENTION TO WARNING RESPONSIBLE FOR ACCIDENT

  Murdock’s tardy answering of a telephone call from the crow’s nest is assigned by Whiteley as the cause of the disaster.

  When Murdock answered the call he received the information that the iceberg was due ahead. This information was imparted just a few seconds before the crash, and had the officer promptly answered the ring of the bell it is probable that the accident could have been avoided, or at least, been reduced by the lowered speed.

  The lookout saw a towering “blue berg” looming up in the sea path of the Titanic, and called the bridge on the ship’s telephone. When, after the passing of those two or three fateful minutes an officer on the bridge lifted the telephone receiver from its hook to answer the lookout, it was too late. The speeding liner, cleaving a calm sea under a star-studded sky, had reached the floating mountain of ice, which the theoretically “unsinkable” ship struck a crashing, if glancing, blow with her starboard bow.

  MURDOCK PAID WITH LIFE

  Had Murdock, according to the account of the tragedy given by two of the Titanic’s seamen, known how imperative was that call from the lookout man, the men at the wheel of the liner might have swerved the great ship sufficiently to avoid the berg altogether. At the worst the vessel would probably have struck the mass of ice with her stern.

  Murdock, if the tale of the Titanic sailor be true, expiated his negligence by shooting himself within sight of all alleged victims huddled in life-boats or struggling in the icy seas.

  When at last the danger was realized, the great ship was so close upon the berg that it was practically impossible to avoid collision with it.

  THE LOCATION OF THE DISASTER

  VAIN TRIAL TO CLEAR BERG

  The first officer did what other startled and alert commanders would have done under similar circumstances, that is, he made an effort by going full speed ahead on the starboard propeller and reversing his port propeller, simultaneously throwing his helm over, to make a rapid turn and clear the berg. The maneuver was not successful. He succeeded in saving his bows from crashing into the ice-cliff, but nearly the entire length of the underbody of the great ship on the starboard side was ripped. The speed of the Titanic, estimated to be at least twenty-one knots, was so terrific that the knife-like edge of the iceberg’s spur protruding under the sea cut through her like a can-opener.

  The Titanic was in 41.46 north latitude and 50.14 west longitude when she was struck, very near the spot on the wide Atlantic where the Carmania encountered a field of ice, studded with great bergs, on her voyage to New York which ended on April 14th. It was really an ice pack, due to an unusually severe winter in the north Atlantic. No less than twenty-five bergs, some of great height, were counted.

  The shock was almost imperceptible. The first officer did not apparently realize that the great ship had received her death wound, and none of the passengers had the slightest suspicion that anything more than a usual minor sea accident had happened. Hundreds who had gone to their berths and were asleep were unawakened by the vibration.

  BRIDGE GAME NOT DISTURBED

  To illustrate the placidity with which practically all the men regarded the accident, it is related that Pierre Marechal, son of the vice-admiral of the French navy, Lucien Smith, Paul Chevre,
a French sculptor, and A.F. Ormont, a cotton broker, were in the Cafe Parisien playing bridge.

  The four calmly got up from the table and after walking on deck and looking over the rail returned to their game. One of them had left his cigar on the card table, and while the three others were gazing out on the sea he remarked that he couldn’t afford to lose his smoke, returned for his cigar and came out again.

  They remained only for a few moments on deck, and then resumed their game under the impression that the ship had stopped for reasons best known to the captain and not involving any danger to her. Later, in describing the scene that took place, M. Marechal, who was among the survivors, said: “When three-quarters of a mile away we stopped, the spectacle before our eyes was in its way magnificent. In a very calm sea, beneath a sky moonless but sown with millions of stars, the enormous Titanic lay on the water, illuminated from the water line to the boat deck. The bow was slowly sinking into the black water.”

  The tendency of the whole ship’s company except the men in the engine department, who were made aware of the danger by the inrushing water, was to make light of and, in some instances, even to ridicule the thought of danger to so substantial a fabric.

  THE CAPTAIN ON DECK

  When Captain Smith came from the chart room onto the bridge, his first words were, “Close the emergency doors.”

  “They’re already closed, sir,” Mr. Murdock replied.

  “Send to the carpenter and tell him to sound the ship,” was the next order. The message was sent to the carpenter, but the carpenter never came up to report. He was probably the first man on the ship to lose his life.

  The captain then looked at the communicator, which shows in what direction the ship is listing. He saw that she carried five degrees list to starboard.

  The ship was then rapidly settling forward. All the steam sirens were blowing. By the captain’s orders, given in the next few minutes, the engines were put to work at pumping out the ship, distress signals were sent by the Marconi, and rockets were sent up from the bridge by Quartermaster Rowe. All hands were ordered on deck.

  PASSENGERS NOT ALARMED

  The blasting shriek of the sirens had not alarmed the great company of the Titanic, because such steam calls are an incident of travel in seas where fogs roll. Many had gone to bed, but the hour, 11.40 P.M., was not too late for the friendly contact of saloons and smoking rooms. It was Sunday night and the ship’s concert had ended, but there were many hundreds up and moving among the gay lights, and many on deck with their eyes strained toward the mysterious west, where home lay. And in one jarring, breath-sweeping moment all of these, asleep or awake, were at the mercy of chance. Few among the more than 2,000 aboard could have had a thought of danger. The man who had stood up in the smoking room to say that the Titanic was vulnerable or that in a few minutes two-thirds of her people would be face to face with death, would have been considered a fool or a lunatic. No ship ever sailed the seas that gave her passengers more confidence, more cool security.

  Within a few minutes stewards and other members of the crew were sent round to arouse the people. Some utterly refused to get up. The stewards had almost to force the doors of the staterooms to make the somnolent appreciate their peril, and many of them, it is believed, were drowned like rats in a trap.

  ASTOR AND WIFE STROLLED ON DECK

  Colonel and Mrs. Astor were in their room and saw the ice vision flash by. They had not appreciably felt the gentle shock and supposed that nothing out of the ordinary had happened. They were both dressed and came on deck leisurely. William T. Stead, the London journalist, wandered on deck for a few minutes, stopping to talk to Frank MIllet. “What do they say is the trouble?” he asked. “Icebergs,” was the brief reply. “Well,” said Stead, “I guess it is nothing serious. I’m going back to my cabin to read.”

  From end to end on the mighty boat officers were rushing about without much noise or confusion, but giving orders sharply. Captain Smith told the third officer to rush downstairs and see whether the water was coming in very fast. “And,” he added, “take some armed guards along to see that the stokers and engineers stay at their posts.”

  In two minutes the officer returned. “It looks pretty bad, sir,” he said. “The water is rushing in and filling the bottom. The locks of the water-tight compartments have been sprung by the shock.”

  “Give the command for all passengers to be on deck with life-belts on.”

  Through the length and breadth of the boat, upstairs and downstairs, on all decks, the cry rang out: “All passengers on deck with life-preservers.”

  A SUDDEN TREMOR OF FEAR

  For the first time, there was a feeling of panic. Husbands sought for wives and children. Families gathered together. Many who were asleep hastily caught up their clothing and rushed on deck. A moment before the men had been joking about the life-belts, according to the story told by Mrs. Vera Dick, of Calgary, Canada. “Try this one,” one man said to her, “they are the very latest thing this season. Everybody is wearing them now.”

  Another man suggested to a woman friend, who had a fox terrier in her arms, that she should put a life-saver on the dog. “It won’t fit,” the woman replied, laughing. “Make him carry it in his mouth,” said the friend.

  CONFUSION AMONG THE IMMIGRANTS

  Below, on the steerage deck, there was intense confusion. About the time the officers on the first deck gave the order that all men should stand to one side and all women should go below to deck B, taking the children with them, a similar order was given to the steerage passengers. The women were ordered to the front, the men to the rear. Half a dozen, healthy, husky immigrants pushed their way forward and tried to crowd into the first boat.

  “Stand back,” shouted the officers who were manning the boat. “The women come first.”

  Shouting curses in various foreign languages, the immigrant men continued their pushing and tugging to climb into the boats. Shots rang out. One big fellow fell over the railing into the water. Another dropped to the deck, moaning. His jaw had been shot away. This was the story told by the bystanders afterwards on the pier. One husky Italian told the writer on the pier that the way in which the men were shot down was horrible. His sympathy was with the men who were shot.

  “They were only trying to save their lives,” he said.

  On board the Titanic, the wireless operator, with a lifebelt about his waist, was hitting the instrument that was sending out C.Q.D., messages, “Struck an iceberg, C.Q.D.”

  “Shall I tell captain to turn back and help?” flashed a reply from the Carpathia.

  “Yes, old man,” the Titanic wireless operator responded. “Guess we’re sinking.”

  On the deck where the first class passengers were quartered, known as deck A, there was none of the confusion that was taking place on the lower decks. The Titanic was standing without much rocking. The captain had given an order and the band was playing.

  CHAPTER VI

  “WOMEN AND CHILDREN FIRST!”

  COOL-HEADED OFFICERS AND CREW BRING ORDER OUT OF CHAOS— FILLING THE LIFE-BOATS—HEARTRENDING SCENES AS FAMILIES ARE PARTED—FOUR LIFE-BOATS LOST—INCIDENTS OF BRAVERY— “THE BOATS ARE ALL FILLED!”

  ONCE on the deck, many hesitated to enter the swinging life-boats. The glassy sea, the starlit sky, the absence, in the first few moments, of intense excitement, gave them the feeling that there was only some slight mishap; that those who got into the boats would have a chilly half hour below and might, later, be laughed at.

  It was such a feeling as this, from all accounts, which caused John Jacob Astor and his wife to refuse the places offered them in the first boat, and to retire to the gymnasium. In the same way H. J. Allison, a Montreal banker, laughed at the warning, and his wife, reassured by him, took her time dressing. They and their daughter did not reach the Carpathia. Their son, less than two years old, was carried into a life-boat by his nurse, and was taken in charge by Major Arthur Peuchen.

  THE LIFE-BOATS LOWERED<
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  The admiration felt by the passengers and crew for the matchlessly appointed vessel was translated, in those first few moments, into a confidence which for some proved deadly. The pulsing of the engines had ceased, and the steamship lay just as though she were awaiting the order to go on again after some trifling matter had been adjusted. But in a few minutes the canvas covers were lifted from the life-boats and the crews allotted to each standing by, ready to lower them to the water.

  Nearly all the boats that were lowered on the port side of the ship touched the water without capsizing. Four of the others lowered to starboard, including one collapsible, were capsized. All, however, who were in the collapsible boats that practically went to pieces, were rescued by the other boats.

  Presently the order was heard: “All men stand back and all women retire to the deck below.” That was the smoking-room deck, or the B deck. The men stood away and remained in absolute silence, leaning against the rail or pacing up and down the deck slowly. Many of them lighted cigars or cigarettes and began to smoke.

  LOADING THE BOATS

  The boats were swung out and lowered from the A deck above. The women were marshaled quietly in lines along the B deck, and when the boats were lowered down to the level of the latter, the women were assisted to climb into them.

  As each of the boats was filled with its quota of passengers the word was given and it was carefully lowered down to the dark surface of the water.

  Nobody seemed to know how Mr. Ismay got into a boat, but it was assumed that he wished to make a presentation of the case of the Titanic to his company. He was among those who apparently realized that the splendid ship was doomed. All hands in the life-boats, under instructions from officers and men in charge, were rowed a considerable distance from the ship herself in order to get far away from the possible suction that would follow her foundering.