Voices from the Titanic (45 page)
Read Voices from the Titanic Online
Authors: Geoff Tibballs
Eugene P. Daly, the rescued steerage passenger, was playing the bagpipes in the third cabin to the amusement of his fellow passengers shortly before the iceberg was struck. Daly says he was just about to retire when the impact startled him. He grabbed some clothing and started for the deck. Stewards went through the steerage and reassured the passengers, saying there was no danger.
Most of the women believed these statements, said Daly, until it was too late. That is why so many of the women in the steerage were drowned. When they finally realized that the ship was sinking they tried to reach the boats, but could not get through the crowd of other frightened passengers.
I managed to don a life preserver and, failing to get a seat on a lifeboat or on a raft, jumped overboard and struck out just before the ship sank. The water was icy and for the first few minutes I thought I could not survive the cold shock. I do not know how long I was in the water when I caught the edge of a life-raft or collapsible boat already crowded. It upset, but the people in it did not drown. Some of them scrambled back while others, including myself, were dragged into a lifeboat containing women and a few men. My sufferings in the lifeboat were intense until we reached the
Carpathia
where we were made comfortable.
Here I am now, stripped of every worldly possession, including my beloved bagpipes, my baggage and £98 sterling which I saved in fourteen years in anticipation of spending the rest of my days in the United States.
Daly is living with friends at No. 901 Dean Street, Brooklyn. Secretary Adamson gave Daly a note to those in charge of the mayor's relief fund at the headquarters of the American Red Cross Society at No. 1 Madison Avenue.
Robert Hopkins, the sailor of the
Titanic
, was also referred to the fund managers. He was assigned by a superior officer to get into one of the boats whose occupants all were women and to help handle the boat. He says that when he put off from the sinking
Titanic
he was under orders to steer a course towards lights which were burning on the distant horizon.
âWe all believed that those lights came from the
Frankfurt
but she was steaming away. We found out when we tried to row towards her,' said Hopkins.
Hopkins is one of the White Star crew who refused to sail back to England by company's orders. He said he had to quit the company and expected therefore no relief from that quarter. Hopkins threw some additional light on the so-called âmillionaires special' lifeboat, which was one of the first boats to leave the
Titanic
. This boat, Hopkins said, contained Sir Cosmo Duff Gordon, Lady Duff Gordon, a man who was indicated as a millionaire and only ten others, including a few women. The millionaire, according to Hopkins, who received the story afterwards from fellow crew members, offered to do handsomely by the crew in the boat if they âput right away from the
Titanic
', although there was plenty of room for others.
The crew did as requested by the millionaire, continued Hopkins, and after they had boarded the
Carpathia
the millionaire gave each of the
Titanic
's crew who had handled his boat a cheque for five pounds upon Coutts's Bank. If anybody can get hold of one of these cheques the identity of the millionaire will be established.
(
New York World
, 22 April 1912)
Band Conductor's Favourite Hymn
Mr Wallace Hartley, the conductor of the
Titanic
's orchestra, was well known in Leeds, where for several years he was connected with local orchestras.
âA splendid musician he was,' said one of his former colleagues to the
Daily Sketch
, âand a better fellow you could not meet in a day's march. He was one of the best.'
Apparently Mr Hartley had a presentiment that one day he would meet his end at sea, and it may have been no sudden inspiration that led him at the last moment to direct his orchestra to play âNearer, My God, To Thee.'
On one occasion he discussed the subject with Mr E. Moody, of Leeds, who played in the orchestra conducted by Mr Hartley on the
Mauretania
.
I do not know what made me say it, said Mr Moody, but one night when Hartley and I were walking round the
Mauretania
's deck together I suddenly asked, âWhat would you do, old chap, if you were on board a liner that was rapidly sinking?'
âI'd get my men together and play,' he replied without hesitation.
âWhat would you play?' I asked.
âWell,' he said, âI don't think I could do better than play âO God our help in ages past' or âNearer, My God, To Thee'. They are both favourite hymns of mine, and they would be very suitable to the occasion.'
(
Daily Sketch
, 22 April 1912)
The shortest ocean route from Northern Europe to North American ports lies past Cape Race, the extreme point which Newfoundland pushes in southerly direction into the sea. This route lies across the Grand Banks. Cape Race is a terrible danger to navigation. It makes the current tricky, it creates fogs to entrap the unwary mariner into its deadly embrace. Past Cape Race there come from the north in the spring the wandering icebergs, and the great floes which sweep in fog or darkness across the ocean routes sending the big liner and the small tramp with relentless impartiality to their doom.
From August 15 to January 14, before the ice begins to break off from the Greenland ice cap and float across the high roads of the Atlantic, the big steamers are able to cut the corner of Cape Race pretty closely, and shorten their distance from Queenstown to New York or Montreal by several hundred miles. They make almost a straight line from the south of the Cape, across the Grand Bank to New York; or rounding the Cape to the north-west make the Gulf of St Lawrence between Newfoundland and Nova Scotia.
When the northern sun gains strength and begins to send the ice down, then the big steamers have to look out, and instead of steering within 300 miles of Cape Race they clear the Grand Banks altogether, and take a course more southerly by 250 miles or so.
In fifty years something like a hundred ocean-going vessels have been lost in the dangerous seas off Cape Race. The Newfoundlander, wrote Mr P. McGrath in an article in
Pearson's Magazine
some time ago, âcounts on a few wrecks every year to help him to maintain his family.' The tramp steamers, which often run risks to make a short and economic passage and pass the Cape and its 500 miles of ice-infested seas too closely, have suffered tremendously in risking too short a course across that part of the North Atlantic.
The recognized âsafety' highways of the sea more than 300 miles south of Cape Race were fixed by the shipping companies in consultation many years ago, and have been found in ordinary practice to be safe enough. But Nature is unreliable. Though the average limit of the field ice is north of the summer course, an early spring, or an unusually warm season now and then carries the bergs further to the south before they dissolve in the warm currents of the Gulf Stream and across the summer course. The captain of the
Titanic
had evidently recognized that this is a bad season for ice, for he was apparently steering some 30 miles south of his normal course, though he dared not steam so far south as to get on the eastward route. (The westward route is nearly 60 miles north of the eastward route, the object being to avoid the danger of collision between vessels steaming in opposite directions.) That the allowance was not enough is proved by the terrible disaster which has just shocked the civilized world.
It is a profound misfortune that, knowing that the ice had appeared earlier this year, the Atlantic lines did not immediately change the ocean routes, as they have decided to do since the
Titanic
went down. The new routes agreed upon will take the steamers about 200 miles further south of the old summer routes, and quite out of the danger zone, even allowing for early and exceptional ice seasons in the North Atlantic. The new course, it is confidently predicted, will be quite outside the extreme limit of drift ice, and at no part of the journey across the ocean will any ship be within sight of ice.
It is obvious that the lengthening of the journey from Great Britain to North America means an additional expense to the shipping companies. This is the price which will be paid, necessarily and cheerfully, for absolute safety from ice.
(
Liverpool Evening Express
, 22 April 1912)
Titanic
Survivor, Daughter and Austrian Friend Saved From Ocean Grave
When Frank Korun, one of the
Titanic
survivors, stepped from the Burlington train at 10 o'clock, Monday night, with his little daughter, Amie, clasping his hand, there were awaiting him a happy family group of his wife and four other children, and the moment that he reached the platform they surrounded him and the little girl and an affectionate reunion ensued, warming all that saw it. The stalwart Austrian was deeply affected by the warm greeting and as for little Amie, she knew how much better it was to be in her mother's arms than on the crowded boat in the Atlantic, dodging ice floes and freezing in Christmas temperature.
With Mr Korun was a fellow Austrian who was with the party that came over on the
Titanic
and who was also saved from the wreck. These wended their way to the Korun home a happy group, once more reunited after an experience that comes to but few.
When Mr Korun was seen this forenoon by a representative of the
Republican Register
, he was still suffering from the effects of his experiences, and evidently had sustained an attack of delirium from which, however, he is recovering. âI feel it in my head,' he said, in broken English, and he put his hand on his forehead. He was just out of the hospital in New York where, with his daughter, he spent over two days. A number crowded around to hear his story which was all the more dramatic as, owing to his scanty knowledge of English, it had to be told in fragments.
With only the suit of clothes he now has on, he made his escape. The $700 that he received from the rent of his land near Krom, Austria, all in cash, and all his belongings in his trunk valued at $150 are at the bottom of the Atlantic. The company paid his fare to Galesburg for the misfortune left him without a cent.
I was a third class passenger and sleeping in a room at the rear of the boat, he remarked. With me were my little girl, and also my brother-in-law, John Markum [sic], who was coming to this country to get work, and who left his wife and five children in Austria.
The man's voice grew soft and tremulous as he thought of the wife and five children across the waters. He then produced a rude drawing of the big ship, to show where his room was, not far from the rear of the boat. The damage he indicated to the front end and side of the vessel.
I was fast asleep when the ship hit the iceberg, he continued. So were the rest in my room. I got up and dressed in the suit I have on and my little girl put on her dress. I put on a life preserver and the rest of our party did the same. It was about 11 o'clock when someone woke us up. When we got to the top I could see that the forward end of the boat was sinking down and that there was quite a decline that way. There was a lifeboat lowered and I think that was the last one put down. They put my little girl down first, letting her down with a rope. Then they let me down. I do not know why they did this â perhaps it was because it was the last boat and there was still room for somebody. When I got into the boat I found that I was the only man there. All the rest were women and children. Of course the sailors were in the boat to pull it. I think that I was the last man to get off the ship. There were fifty-two people in the boat. There were seven babies in the company. Thirty passengers were on it.
At a quarter to one o'clock, when we were about 300 feet from the steamship, it sank. Its forward end went down and it seemed to raise right in the air and dive.
At this point Mr Korun took his drawing and lifted it up straight to indicate the position of the ship when it took the plunge.
I heard two big booms, he continued. I think it was the boilers exploding. I did not see the ship break in two. An awful scene followed, people drowning and crying for help. I shall never forget the sight. I did not feel the suction from the ship when it went down.
Then for four and a half hours we were in the boat. The sea was smooth but it was full of chunks of ice, some small and some large. It was cold like Christmas and we shivered from it. My little girl was in the same boat and was very brave. I tried to keep her warm.
What became of my brother-in-law? I do not know. He went on top too, but I lost sight of him. You could not see much there. He went down with the ship.
(
Galesburg Republican Register
, 23 April 1912)
âMoney is pouring in.' This announcement, made at the Mansion House last night, supplements the news that the Lord Mayor's fund for sufferers by the
Titanic
disaster has now reached over £100,000.
This huge total is an effective illustration of the full realization by the charitable public of the effect of the disaster. But more is required to meet the needs of the widows and fatherless and other sufferers by the wreck, and there is no doubt that it will be forthcoming.
Elsewhere the relief funds are being liberally supported. At Southampton last night the Mayor's fund had reached £12,380. Liverpool, New York and other cities in the United Kingdom, the United States and Canada are raising funds for the same noble purpose. Altogether it is estimated that over £150,000 has already been willingly subscribed.
(
Daily News
, 23 April 1912)
Mrs Astor has told her experiences, bit by bit â because she is not yet strong enough to speak for any length of time â to her relatives in New York.
