Voices from the Titanic (11 page)

It was Sunday evening, a starry night and calm. There was an exceptional bill of fare on the evening dinner. We were all in evening dress and the ladies wore many a jewel. Music went on as usual. I dined with Mrs Markland Molson, Mr and Mrs Allison and their little girl. Everything was exceptionally bright. Then I went to the smoking room and met Mr Beattie, a partner of Hugo Ross, of Winnipeg, formerly of Toronto. I also met Mr McCarthy of the Union Bank of Vancouver, and a financial man from Toronto. Talk was unusually bright. That was about 11 o'clock. Then I said, ‘Good night, I am going to turn in.'

I had just reached my berth, when I heard a dull thud. It was like a collision and I didn't think it serious. That's extraordinary, I thought, and went up to see. I ran upstairs and on the way met a friend who laughingly said that we had struck an iceberg and we went up on deck. There we found that we had struck aft of
the bow about 75 feet from the point and had scraped along the starboard side. We saw ice falling on us. The berg was about 70 feet high. As the berg passed the portholes it alarmed the women in the berths.

The passengers came on deck one by one, some in pyjamas, some in evening gowns. They were not yet much alarmed. I went inside and spoke with my friend Molson. Mr Hugo Ross was sick in bed. Then I got in touch with Charles M. Hays and Thornton Davidson, a son-in-law of Mr Hays. Then four of us, Mr Hays, Mr Molson and Mr Davidson, went up to see the ice.

I then for the first time saw she was listing. This was about fifteen minutes after the strike. Then I noticed that all the people were putting on lifebelts, and for the first time it looked serious. I went inside, threw off my dress suit, put on my warmest clothes and my steward, a very nice fellow, helped me to put on my life preserver. I never saw him again.

I took three oranges and a pearl pin. There was $200,000 of stocks and bonds, all my jewellery and presents for my daughter Jessie and family in the berth, but I did not touch them.

It was rather sad to turn and leave the cheery room I had occupied – cosy, large and comfortable as it was.

(
Halifax (Nova Scotia) Evening Mail
, 19 April 1912)

There is a clock face in the stokehole and the red light goes up for ‘Stop'. I was talking to Mr Hesketh, one of the engineers, when the red light came up, and I shouted, ‘Shut all the dampers.' That order was obeyed, but the crash came before we had them all shut.

There was a rush of water into my stokehole. We were standing on plates about six feet above the tank tops, and the water came in about two feet above the plates. Together with Mr Hesketh, I jumped through the doorway into No. 5 section. The watertight door between the sections was then open, but it shut just as we jumped through. This door is worked from the bridge. I do not know whether any more men in my stokehole were saved. The water was coming in fast enough through the side of the ship to flood the place.

Shortly afterwards the order came from the engine room to send all the stokers up. Most of them went up, but I was told to remain with the engineers to do any errands. Mr Harvey, Mr Wilson, Mr Shepherd (of the engineers' staff) and I waited in No. 5 section.

Mr Harvey told me to send some firemen for some lamps. Just as we got the lamps the electric light came on again. They must have been changing the dynamos over. Mr Harvey told me to fetch some firemen to draw the furnaces. I fetched about fifteen firemen, and they drew the thirty furnaces in the section. That occupied about twenty minutes. I looked at the gauge and found there was no water in the boilers. The ship, in blowing off steam, had blown it out.

Mr Harvey told me to lift the manhole plate, which I did, and then Mr Shepherd, hurrying across to do something and not noticing the plate had been moved, fell down and broke his leg. We lifted him up and laid him in the pump-room. About a quarter of an hour after the fires were drawn there was a rush of water. Mr Shepherd ordered me up the ladder.

(British Inquiry, 7 May 1912)

I opened the forepeak storeroom. Me and the storekeeper went down as far as the top of the tank and found everything dry. I
came up to ascertain where a hissing sound was coming from. I found it was the air escaping out of the exhaust of the tank. At that time the Chief Officer, Mr Wilde, put his head around the hawse pipe and says: ‘What is that, Hemming?' I said: ‘The air is escaping from the forepeak tank. She is making water in the forepeak tank, but the storeroom is quite dry.' He said, ‘All right,' and went away.

Me and the storekeeper went back and turned into our bunks a few minutes. Then the joiner came in and he said: ‘If I were you, I would turn out, you fellows. She is making water, one-two-three, and the racket court is getting filled up.'

Just as he went, the boatswain came, and he says: ‘Turn out, you fellows, you haven't half an hour to live.' He said: ‘That is from Mr Andrews. Keep it to yourselves, and let no one know.' That would be a quarter of an hour from the time the ship struck.

(US Inquiry, 25 April 1912)

The collision woke me up. It was a sound that I thought seemed like the ship coming to an anchor. It gave just a little vibration. I was about half awake and half asleep. I had a look around and I could not see anything and could not hear any noise, so I went back to the room and sat down and lit my pipe. I thought that nothing had really happened, that perhaps it might have been a dream, or something like that.

A few minutes afterwards I thought I had better start dressing, as it was near my watch, so I started dressing, and when I was partly dressed Mr Boxhall (the Fourth Officer) came in and said there was water in the mail room.

I said: ‘What happened?'

He said: ‘We struck an iceberg.'

So I put a coat on and went on deck, and saw the men uncovering the boats and clearing them away. I walked along to the after
end of the boat deck and met Mr Moody, the Sixth Officer. I asked him if he had seen the iceberg. He said no. But he said: ‘There is some ice on the forward well deck.' So to satisfy my curiosity I went down there myself.

I saw a little ice there. Then I went further, to the forecastle head, to see if there was any damage there. I could not see any at all. On my return, before emerging from under the forecastle head, I saw a crowd of firemen coming out with their bags of clothing.

I said: ‘What is the matter?'

They said: ‘Water is coming in our place.'

I said: ‘That is funny.' I looked down No. 1 hatch and saw the water flowing over the hatch. I immediately went to the boat deck and assisted in getting boats uncovered and ready for swinging out.

(US Inquiry, 23 April 1912)

At 7.30 p.m., as usual, my husband and I went to dinner in the café. There was a dinner party going on, given by Mr Ismay to the captain and various other people on board ship. This was a usual occurrence of the evening, so we paid no attention to it. The dinner did not seem to be particularly gay. While they had various wines to drink, I am positive none were intoxicated at a quarter of nine o'clock when we left the dining room. There was a coffee room directly outside of the café in which people sat and listened to the music and drank coffee and cordials after dinner. My husband was with some friends just outside of what I know as the Parisian Café. I stayed up until 10.30, and then went to bed. I passed through the coffee room, and Mr Ismay and his party were still there. The reason I am positive about the different time is because I asked my husband at the three
intervals what time it was. I went to bed, and my husband joined his friends.

I was asleep when the crash came. It did not awaken me enough to frighten me. In fact, I went back to sleep again. Then I awakened again because it seemed that the boat had stopped. About that time my husband came into the room. Still I was not frightened, but thought he had come in to go to bed. I asked him why the boat had stopped, and, in a leisurely manner, he said: ‘We are in the north and have struck an iceberg. It does not amount to anything, but will probably delay us a day getting into New York. However, as a matter of form, the captain has ordered all ladies on deck.'

That frightened me a little but, after being reassured there was no danger, I took plenty of time in dressing, putting on all my heavy clothing, high shoes, and two coats, as well as a warm knit hood. While I dressed, my husband and I talked of landing, not mentioning the iceberg.

I started out, putting on my life preserver, when we met a steward who was on his way to tell us to put on life preservers and come on deck. However I returned to the room with the intention of bringing my jewellery, but my husband said not to delay with such trifles. However I picked up two rings and went on deck.

After getting to the top deck, the ladies were ordered on Deck A without our husbands. I refused to go, but, after being told by three or four officers, my husband insisted and, along with another lady, we went down. After staying there some time with nothing seemingly going on, someone called saying they could not be lowered from that deck for the reason it was enclosed in glass. That seemed to be the first time the officers and captain had thought of that, and hastened to order us all on the top deck again. There was some delay in getting lifeboats down – in fact, we had plenty of time to sit in the gymnasium and chat with another gentleman and his wife. I kept asking my husband if I could remain with him rather than go in a lifeboat. He promised me I could. There was no commotion, no panic, and no one
seemed to be particularly frightened. In fact, most of the people seemed interested in the unusual occurrence, many having crossed fifty and sixty times. However I noticed my husband was busy talking to an officer he came in contact with. Still I had not the least suspicion of the scarcity of lifeboats, or I never should have left my husband.

(US Inquiry, 20 May 1912)

When I felt the shock I got up. I went to the port and opened it. It was bitterly cold. I looked out and saw nothing. It was very dark. I got back into my bunk again. Presently two or three people came along and said she had struck an iceberg, and some of them went and brought pieces of ice along in their hands. I thought at first it was the propeller gone, the way she went. I lay there for about twenty minutes, and in the meantime the steerage passengers were coming from forward, coming aft, carrying life belts with them. Some of them were wet. Still I did not think it was anything serious, and I lay there for a little while longer when the head waiter came down – Moss, his name was – and said we were all to go on deck and to put on some warm clothing before we went up, as we were liable to be there some time. With that, I think almost everybody in the ‘glory hole', as we call it, got dressed and went on deck. I just put on things to keep me warm, because I did not think it was anything serious.

We went up the midship companionway, up to the top deck, and met Mr Dodd (the chief second steward) on D deck. He told us to go forward to the saloon and see if there was anyone about. If there was, we were to order them up on deck and collect the lifebelts and bring them up to the deck cloakroom.

I went forward but did not see anyone around there. So I came back and got seven life belts on my way up. When I got on deck, I adjusted preservers on people that hadn't got one. I put one
on myself. Everybody was moving around in a most orderly manner. There did not seem to be any excitement. In fact, a lot of ladies and gentlemen there were just treating it as a kind of joke.

(US Inquiry, 25 April 1912)

We were in our state room when the word was passed for all passengers to put on life preservers and go on deck. This order followed within a few seconds after the ship struck. We did not realize the seriousness of the crash, thinking some slight trouble had happened to the engines. Even when the order was brought to us to put on life preservers and come on deck we still failed to realize the situation.

As we went on deck we passed groups of men and women who were laughing and joking. When we reached the main deck, forward, and saw the lifeboats being swung overboard the seriousness of the matter began to dawn on us. Then came the command: ‘Women and children first.'

When the passengers saw the seriousness with which the officers and crew went about their business they began to realize that something terrible had happened and began to make their way towards the lifeboats.

Colonel Astor and Mrs Astor were standing near us. When the men of the
Titanic
came to her and told her to get into a lifeboat she refused to leave her husband's side. Then I was asked
to enter one of the boats. My husband told me to go but I did not want to leave him. He reassured me, saying the danger was not serious and that he would follow after me in a short time. Still I could not believe that everything was as he said. I felt that if I left him something terrible would happen. The officers told me I would have to get into a lifeboat. My husband told me to and finally I was led to the side and lowered into a boat. They put me in a collapsible boat. I was one of three women in the first cabin in the thing; the rest were steerage people. Major Butt helped those poor, frightened steerage people so wonderfully, tenderly and yet with such cool and manly firmness. He was a major to the last.

When the order came to take to the boats he became as one in supreme command. He was a man to be feared. In one of the earlier boats fifty women, it seemed, were about to be lowered, when a man, suddenly panic-stricken, ran to the stern of it. Major Butt shot one arm out, caught him by the neck, and jerked him backward. His head cracked against a rail and he was stunned.

‘Sorry,' said Major Butt, ‘but women will be attended to first or I'll break every damned bone in your body.'

Mrs Astor had left her husband and had been placed in another boat. As I was being lowered over the side, I saw my husband and Colonel Astor standing together. Jacques Futrelle was standing near them. My husband waved his hand. That was the last I saw of him.