by Senan Molony
I went back again, and just as I was going down the last flight of stairs the water was up four steps, and dashing up. I did not go back into the room, because I could not. When I went back toward the room the water was coming up three steps up the stairs, or four steps; so I did not go any farther. I went back on the deck again, and just as I got there, I was looking around to see if I could get any of those lifebelts, and I met a First-Class passenger, and he had two. He gave me one, and fixed it on me.
Then the lifeboats were preparing. There were five lifeboats sent out. I was in the sixth. I was holding the ropes all the time, helping to let down the five lifeboats that went down first, as well as I could.
When the sixth lifeboat was prepared, there was a big crowd of men standing on the deck. And they all jumped in. So I said I would take my chance with them.
Who were they?
Passengers and sailors and firemen, mixed. There were no ladies there at the same time. When they jumped, I said I would go too. I went into the boat. Then two officers came along and said all of the men could come out. And they brought a lot of steerage passengers with them; and they were mixed, in every way, ladies and gentlemen. And they said all the men could get out and let the ladies in. But six men were left in the boat. I think they were firemen and sailors.
I was crying. There was a woman in the boat and she had thrown her shawl over me, and she told me to stay in there. I believe she was Mrs Astor. Then they did not see me, and the boat was lowered down into the water, and we rowed away from the steamer.
The men that were in the boat at first fought, and would not get out, but the officers drew their revolvers, and fired shots over our heads, and then the men got out. When the boat was ready, we were lowered down into the water and rowed away from the steamer. We were only about 15 minutes out when she sank.
What else happened?
One of the firemen that was working on the Titanic told me, when I got on board the Carpathia and he was speaking to me, that he did not think it was any iceberg; that it was only that they wanted to make a record, and they ran too much steam and the boilers bursted. That is what he said.
We sighted the lights of the big steamer, the Carpathia. All the women got into a terrible commotion and jumped around. They were hallooing and the sailors were trying to keep them sitting down, and they would not do it. They were standing up all the time.
When we got into the Carpathia we were treated very good. We got all kinds of refreshments.
Did you feel a shock from the collision when the ship struck?
Yes, I did.
And did that wake you up?
It did. I did not feel any shock in the steamer; only just heard a noise. I heard a kind of a grating noise.
Did you get right out of bed?
Yes, I did.
When you got out, you got into the water? There was water in your compartment in the steerage?
Yes; water was there slightly. There was not very much.
How much?
The floor was only just getting wet. It was only coming in under the door very slightly.
You had two or three boys with you?
Yes; three boys that came from the same place in Ireland.
What became of those other three boys?
I cannot say. I did not see them any more after leaving the room where I parted from them.
They were lost?
Yes, they were lost.
Was there any effort made on the part of the officers or crew to hold the steerage passengers in the steerage?
I do not think so.
Were you permitted to go up to the top deck without any interference?
Yes, sir. They tried to keep us down at first on our steerage deck. They did not want us to go up to the First-Class place at all.
Who tried to do that?
I cannot say who they were. I think they were sailors.
What happened then? Did the steerage passengers try to get out?
Yes, they did. There was one steerage passenger there, and he was getting up the steps, and just as he was going in a little gate a fellow came along and chucked him down; threw him down into the steerage place. This fellow got excited, and he ran after him, and he could not find him. He got up over the little gate. He could not find him.
What gate do you mean?
A little gate just at the top of the stairs going up into the First-Class deck.
There was a gate between the steerage and the First-Class deck?
Yes. The First-Class deck was higher up than the steerage deck, and there were some steps leading up to it, 9 or 10 steps, and a gate just at the top of the steps.
Was the gate locked?
It was not locked at the time we made the attempt to get up there, but the sailor, or whoever he was, locked it. So that this fellow who went up after him broke the lock on it, and he went after the fellow that threw him down. He said if he could get hold of him he would throw him into the ocean.
Did these passengers in the steerage have any opportunity at all of getting out?
Yes, they had.
What opportunity did they have?
I think they had as much chance as the First- and Second-Class passengers.
After this gate was broken?
Yes, because they were all mixed. All the steerage passengers went up on the First-Class deck at this time, when the gate was broken. They all got up there. They could not keep them down.
How much water was there in the steerage when you got out of the steerage?
There was only just a little bit. Just like you would throw a bucket of water on the floor; just very little, like that.
But it was coming in, was it?
Yes, it was only just commencing to come in. Then I went down the second time, to get one of the life preservers, there was a terrible lot of water there, in a very short time.
How much?
It was just about three steps up the stairs, on the last flight of stairs that I got down.
Did you find any people down in the steerage when you went back the second time?
There were a number, but I cannot say how many. All the boys and girls were coming up against me. They were all going for the deck.
Were they excited?
Yes, they were. The girls were very excited, and they were crying; and all the boys were trying to console them and saying that it was nothing serious.
Were you crying at the time?
Not at this time. There was a girl from my place, and just when she got down into the lifeboat she thought that the boat was sinking into the water. Her name was Bridget Bradley. She climbed one of the ropes as far as she could and tried to get back into the Titanic again, as she thought she would be safer in it than in the lifeboat. She was just getting up when one of the sailors went out to her and pulled her down again.
How many people were there in the steerage when you got out of bed?
I cannot say.
Could you see many people around?
Yes, sir; there was a great crowd of people. They were all terribly excited. They were all going for the decks as quick as they could. The people had no difficulty in stepping into the lifeboat. It was close to the ship.
I want to ask you whether, from what you saw that night, you feel that the steerage passengers had an equal opportunity with other passengers and the crew in getting into the lifeboats?
Yes, I think they had as good a chance as the First- and Second-Class passengers.
You think they did have?
Yes. But at the start they tried to keep them down on their own deck.
But they broke down this gate to which you have referred?
Yes, sir.
And then they went on up, as others did, mingling all together?
Yes, they were all mixed up together.
Have you told all you know, of your own knowledge, about that?
Yes.
Were you where you could see the ship when she went down?
Yes,
I saw the lights just going out as she went down. It made a terrible noise, like thunder.
I wish you would tell the committee in what part of the ship this steerage was located.
Down, I think, in the lower part of the steamer, in the after part of the ship, at the back.
That is all. Thank you.
Buckley told the Daily Times on landfall: ‘The lights were kept burning until the ship sank from sight. Men fought with women down in the steerage, and time and again officers would drag men from the boats in order to let women have their places.’
Daniel Buckley is buried in his native Ballydesmond, County Cork. The inscription on his grave reads: ‘Of your charity, pray for the soul of Dannie Buckley, Ballydesmond, who was killed in action in France, on Oct 15th 1918, aged 28 years. Survivor of Titanic.’
Brave Irish American Soldier Second Lieutenant Daniel Buckley
A survivor of the ill-fated Titanic, he volunteered for active service under the stars and stripes in the 69th Irish (Rainbow Division) on American entrance to the war.
He came to France with his regiment in October 1917, saw fighting in several battles, had some miraculous escapes, the same Supernatural power which aided him in the Titanic still appearing to come to his assistance.
He was wounded, though not seriously, in April last, and fell, paying the supreme penalty, fighting under the flag of his adopted country, just previous to the cessation of hostilities. He was a native of Kingwilliamstown, County Cork, where he was extremely popular previous to his departure for the States.
(The Cork Examiner, 15 January 1919)
Buckley had joined the US army in June 1917, reasoning that it was better to choose his unit rather than wait to be conscripted. He wrote home having left his job in a Manhattan hotel: ‘Well mother, I am after volunteering to go with the 69th regiment. The regiment is composed of all Irish fellows, about 2,000 strong … I hope you won’t be vexed, but proud that there is one of the family gone in at least to put some nails in the Kaiser’s coffin.’
He trained at Camp Mills in Long Island and arrived in France that fall with Company K of the 165th US infantry. His early letters complained of overcharging by locals – ‘they think we must be all millionaires when we come from the US’ – while adding that he had little of his $15 a month pay left having contributed $6.70 to an insurance scheme. He also arranged for much of the pay to be channelled directly to his family.
He was soon in the trenches, and though censorship meant he could not describe military activity, wrote glowing generalised accounts: ‘We had some great battles with the huns, but they run away when they see an American bayonet shining in the sunlight.’
Reality intruded, and he sustained some wounds which he passed off with brief references. A letter written on captured German paper related the death of a friend, Jack Reardon. ‘He was a fine fellow and loved by all his pals as he was full of life. God have mercy on his soul. I hope he is better off, as this is a rough life over here. He was not killed instantly, but died in hospital. I have had some narrow escapes myself, but thanks to God I have been lucky so far …’
His last letter was written on 9 October 1918, six days before his death:
My dear mother,
I am writing you a few lines hoping you are well, also Nonie, Julian, Jack and Neal, also all in Kingwilliamstown.
I wrote a couple of weeks ago and did not get a chance since, as we are very busy drawing the huns back on all fronts. I believe the war will soon be over, as the Germans are getting a great licking.
I received the medals you sent me, also the cigarettes, but only 15 packets were left. I was glad to get them as I was at the front then. At present I am behind the lines a little way and the music of our big guns is ringing all around. Last Sunday we attended Mass in the woods, + as Father Duffy says, with the music of the cannon to take the place of the organ.
I hope you receive the allotment as it will soon be five months due, as it started June 1st. Tell Nell Herlihy I received her letter + will write later as I get no paper at present. This is a wild place and all towns are in a level with the ground. I got a cold already and I hope we will be out of here before winter.
I will close now and say Good Bye, Good luck to all at home.
Your fond son,
Pvt Daniel Buckley.
Dannie Buckley was reported shot dead by a sniper while helping to retrieve wounded, somewhere on the Meuse-Argonne front.
He was initially interred in France, his remains only returning to Ireland in the spring of 1919 for burial in ‘sweet’ Kingwilliamstown. It was the first time he had been back since 1912 – and the locals standing in the graveyard noted that the surrounding fields were indeed ‘white with daisies’.
Jeremiah Burke (19) Lost
Ticket number 365222. Paid £6 15s.
Boarded at Queenstown. Third Class.
From: Ballinoe, White’s Cross, Upper Glanmire, County Cork.
Destination: Mrs Burns, 41 Washington Street, Charlestown, Massachusetts.
Jeremiah Burke is the passenger fabled to have thrown a despairing message in a bottle from the decks of the sinking Titanic. Miraculously, the bottle washed up on the shoreline just a short distance from his home in Ireland just over a year later.
The message contains an unclear date which could variously be 10, 12 or 13 April 1912. The Titanic struck the berg at 11.40 p.m. on 14 April. Interestingly, an article in the Irish News, published on 20 April 1912, observed that very few authentic messages from shipwrecks had ever come to safety and ‘very many … are cruel hoaxes’.
Jeremiah’s grieving family believed the message found by a coachman on the shore at Dunkettle, close to their home, was authentic. The message reads: ‘From Titanic. Good Bye all. Burke of Glanmire, Cork’. Kate Burke, his mother, recognised her son’s handwriting. She announced that the bottle was the same holy water bottle she had given to her boy on the day of his departure.
Jeremiah Burke was only 19, and stood six feet two inches in his stockinged feet. He was the youngest of seven children who had all worked on the 70-acre family farm, and stated on embarkation that he was an agricultural labourer.
Two of his sisters had previously emigrated to the US and he was resolved to join them when a letter arrived from Charlestown with money for his passage. His cousin Nora Hegarty, from neighbouring Killavarrig, decided to accompany him on the expedition to America.
Jeremiah’s father William drove the cousins to Queenstown in his pony and trap. He reported seeing them making friends with another intending passenger, a piper identified as Eugene Daly. He survived, while both Jeremiah and Nora drowned.
More Cork Victims
The sympathy of the people of Cork will go out in full measure to the parents of Miss Nora Hegarty of Killavallig, Whitechurch, and Mr Jeremiah Burke, of Upper Glanmire, both of whom were only 19 years of age and who lost their lives in the Titanic disaster.
They left Queenstown full of hope for a bright and happy career in the United States. They were seen off by a number of relatives and friends and with them they cheerfully discussed their future prospects, but alas their young hopes and schemes were doomed by cruel disappointment.
They were both very popular in the Glanmire and Whitechurch districts and the shock which their death occasioned was general and acute. Their parents and relatives will have the sympathy of all in the great sorrow into which they have been plunged.
(The Cork Examiner, 27 April 1912)
Then in early summer 1913, the Royal Irish Constabulary contacted the family with the news that a man walking his dog had picked up the message in a bottle at Dunkettle, where the river in Glanmire meets the Lee and flows to the sea. The note is now on public display at the Queenstown Experience visitor attraction in Cobh.
His grandniece has said: ‘The bottle and note were all his mother had, and in a way it was like a tombstone. He wouldn’t have thrown away a bottle of holy water his mother gave him. There was an element of panic t
o it.’
Last Hour Messages
The possibility that messages from some of the people left on the doomed Titanic may have been committed to the deep is discussed … Such notes, enclosed in bottles, may have been thrown overboard; and if so, their chances of being found are a hundred times better than those of any messages ever given to the sea. The US cruiser [sic] MacKay-Bennett is only one of the many ships that will be sent specially to search the scene of the shipwreck, and the possibility of salvaging something from the wreckage is certain to draw many Newfoundland fishing boats to the spot.
It is of course true that very few authentic messages from wrecks have ever come to safety. Very many that were first reported turned out to be cruel hoaxes. The bottle-messages that purported to come from the Yongala, which went down off Queensland, and from the Allan liner Huronian, which was lost in the North Atlantic, and from the Waratah, whose fate was never known, were all discovered to be false.
One of the few cases that were considered authentic was the bottle-message that was found some time after the Bay of Bengal sailed from England, saying that she had been wrecked almost immediately after putting to sea. Nothing more was ever heard of this ship.
(Irish News, 20 April 1912)
The theme of the ship that sailed and was never seen again has always had a horrible fascination. The White Star steamer Naronic was built in 1892 and was described as the finest and safest vessel ever launched.
She left Liverpool for New York on 11 February 1893, and then disappeared forever. But six weeks afterwards a champagne bottle was found on the beach at Ocean View, Virginia, containing a letter alleged to have been written by John Olsen, a cattleman on board.
‘The Naronic is fast sinking. It is such a storm that we cannot live in the small boats. One boat with its human cargo has already sunk. We have been struck by an iceberg in the blinding snow. The ship has floated for two hours. It is now 3.20 in the morning, and the deck is level with the sea.’ That is all we have ever heard of the Naronic.
