Voices from the Titanic (52 page)

One of the crew, who has crossed the Atlantic many times, was openly incredulous regarding the story that some well-known ocean gamblers escaped in women's clothing, which they had bought from stewards, but he admitted that men of that class were on board the
Titanic
, and expressed surprise to find them afterwards on the
Carpathia
.

A
Mercury
reporter had a chat with Mr B. Thomas, one of the stewards, who was allotted to No. 15 boat, on the starboard side – the last of the odd numbers. ‘I was lying awake in my bunk,' he said, ‘when the ship struck. She struck gently, and I thought so little of it that I was going to sleep again.'

He declared that, although he had spent many years in the Atlantic service, he had never seen so much ice as he did on that morning when daylight came. He laughingly described an incident in his boat. A lady – a second-class passenger – complained of the lack of room, and grumbled almost all the way to the
Carpathia
. If she realized her good fortune in being saved, she did not show it.

He endorsed the statement made by others that some of the officers made sure of order by firing their revolvers over the heads of the people. Just after one of the boats was launched, the officer in charge said: ‘If anyone disobeys me I will shoot.'

Mr Frank Prentice, assistant storekeeper of the
Titanic
, seen yesterday, admitted that he had had a really miraculous escape. With nine of his companion storekeepers, he clambered in the poop after having done everything possible to assist the passengers. Some he supplied with lifebelts, and a number he handed into the lifeboats. Among them was Mrs Clarke, who expressed a hope that she would meet him again. Little did either anticipate the startling circumstances in which her wish was to be gratified.

When once the lifeboats were away, Mr Prentice proceeded right aft, and clambered on to the stern, which already was lifting out of the water preliminary to the final plunge. He described the scene as being awe-inspiring, all the people on deck clambering one after another away from the advancing waves.

When at length he realized that there was no hope of safety from the fast sinking vessel, he decided to plunge into the sea, and he calculated that he must have jumped over 100 feet, the three propellers of the ship being then well out of the water. He had a lifebelt around him, and being a powerful swimmer quickly came to the surface and found in his vicinity nearly 100 of the crew and passengers swimming for their lives. He shouted to them, inquiring for a close companion called Ricks, who he knew was not a good swimmer. Ricks eventually came to his side and he encouraged him for some time to swim with him, but like many others he disappeared, being overcome by the extreme cold and exhaustion, following a long exposure to the water.

Mr Prentice explained that, during the time he was in company with the swimmers, they encouraged one another by shouts, and advised each other to keep in close company. So swiftly was the number reduced, however, that he decided to swim away on his own, and he advised Ricks to follow his example. Had the latter done so, he would probably have been saved, as very soon he came in contact with a quantity of wreckage. Then, with deck chairs and cushions, he made a sort of frail raft, and on this he supported himself, swimming whenever it was necessary to keep himself warm, as the icy waters were even more terrible than the cries of his drowning friends, harrowing as they were to his feelings.

After being over four hours in the sea, he was picked up and taken aboard one of the lifeboats, in which, strangely enough, Mrs Clarke was seated. This lady took off her coat and wrapped him in it, while others assisted to restore him to animation.

Mr Prentice emphasizes the wonderful presence of mind that prevailed amongst the ship's officers, mentioning that just before he left Mr McElroy, the purser, to go on deck to see about the boats he had been engaged in provisioning, Mr McElroy inquired if anything had been locked up below, meaning the store rooms, thus indicating that he had no idea how seriously the ship had been injured.

One of the stewards, Mr A. J. Littlejohn, who lives at Cheshunt, Herts, was one of those who escaped in a lifeboat in which there were about fifty people, and in the course of a conversation about the accident he expressed the opinion that if it had not been a fine night with a smooth sea not a single soul would have survived. He explained that the boats were lowered from a tremendous height, and only in smooth seas would it have been possible to do such good work as was done on the
Titanic
.

Before any of the crew more than necessary for the management of the boats clambered in, all the passengers on A deck, on the starboard side, where No. 13 lifeboat was situated, had been accounted for. The women and children were at first dealt with, and then several male passengers were taken on board. It was after this, when there was no one present but members of the crew, that one of the officers directed them to take their seats and to row away.

At this stage she had not listed, but she was beginning to go down by the head. The B deck ports forward were underwater, the result being that the third-class passengers in the steerage, who were accommodated under, were hurrying up, carrying with them their boxes, baggage, and lifebelts. They had not stopped to put on the last-mentioned. Many of the stewards, Mr Littlejohn admitted, looked on amused at the scenes, being firmly under the impression that the ship was unsinkable, and some regarded the whole procedure and the launching of the boats as a huge joke. Many of the crew were convinced that it was only an emergency boat drill, and it was some time after that they recognized that the responsible officers had come to the conclusion that the
Titanic
was doomed.

Amongst the steerage passengers there was a state of affairs bordering on panic. Moaning and weeping piteously, they hurried through the alleyways that led to the third-class promenade deck, and it was a long time before the water got there; not, in fact, until the poop had risen in the air.

Once the water touched the boilers the end of the
Titanic
was not long delayed. Immediately after the collision with the iceberg – within two or three minutes – the engines were stopped, and there arose the sound of the escaping steam. But what was more alarming was the inrush of water, which caused the hissing in the machinery. There was an early explosion, which led to the fracture of the main fabric of the vessel, and a few minutes after the bow portion disappeared. Then the machinery took charge, and within another twenty minutes the great vessel had passed from view.

Mr Littlejohn mentioned that when he came up on deck the first time he found broken ice to the depth of two feet in the forward well-deck, this showing that the berg was above the surface of the water. He added that on the arrival of the
Carpathia
the stewards resumed their normal occupation and assisted in looking after the passengers who had been rescued.

With reference to the experiences on the
Carpathia
, it was generally agreed amongst the stewards that Mr Bruce Ismay did not appear during the voyage and that he kept himself in the cabin and was under medical treatment. It is asserted that he refused to take food, and that the only thing he consumed until he reached New York was water.

In the course of conversations yesterday morning our representatives gained some additional information of interest. One of those, a waiter named Percy Keene on the ill-starred ship, described the collision as being violent enough to awaken everyone in the
Titanic
who was asleep, though it partook of the nature of a prolonged trembling such as he had before experienced at sea when a vessel had shed a propeller. That that was the case was generally believed in the ‘glory hole', a central suite used by the stewards' mess, in which is a winding staircase leading to the top deck.

Presently, he said, the engines, which had at once slowed down, entirely stopped and they were never restarted.

Capt. Smith went to the bridge, closed the watertight doors and sent for Mr Andrews, designer of the vessel. Together they went below to the scene of the damage and found many of the fore-holds full of water. The extent of the ripping of plates was such as to convince the captain of the seriousness of the damage, and he communicated this to Mr Bruce Ismay, whom he joined on the bridge.

Steps to secure safety were quietly proceeded with from that moment, though the stewards had the greatest difficulty to persuade many of the souls on board to leave their state rooms, the women being especially loath to get up.

Mr Keene said he had come to the conclusion that the high loss of life among the female passengers of the third class was due to their lack of knowledge as to how to reach the boat deck. Many of them must have become hopelessly lost in the hull of the leviathan when her doom became obvious. Fright and hopelessness doubtless accounted for many.

There were no end of small rafts secured, he added, but in the darkness it was very difficult to make effective use of them. The handling of the collapsible boats was also hampered by the night. ‘Many, many more would have been saved if daylight had come soon after the accident. We should have been able to open the lower gangways and pass the people down by rope ladders, but that was impossible in the prevailing blackness.'

Shortly before the special train steamed out of the docks, two of the stewardesses who are returning to their homes – Mrs Gold and Mrs Martin – granted a brief interview, in which they narrated their experiences. They were first-class stewardesses on the
Titanic
, and were both saved in No. 11 boat. They had been old ‘shipmates', having sailed together in the
Olympic
and the
Adriatic
whilst earlier in their careers they were both on the
Cedric
, of the same line.

On deck, they continued, the bandsmen were playing ‘ragtime' music as the crew were getting out the boats, and it was a noteworthy fact that so interested and engrossed in their duty were these gallant musicians that they would not stop playing to put on the lifebelts which were brought to them. The ladies put on their own belts, yet were laughing and joking all the time, considering they were obeying orders which were part of drill. When ordered to the boats, though, they began to realize otherwise.

In No. 11 boat there were seventy-five people, sixty-two being women. After pulling away from the side of the
Titanic
it was found two German males had concealed themselves in the boat before she was lowered. They were found under the seats, and one of them refused to come out, wrapping Mrs Gold's skirts around him for warmth. One of the crew prodded him several times with an oar yet failed to induce him to budge an inch. His compatriot did take his share of work at the oars, but the skulking fellow was permanently idle – except when he was once heard counting out his money!

She confirmed the statement that it was a brilliant, starlit night, and Mrs Martin said she was almost the only woman insufficiently robed. At first she was little inconvenienced, but when the breeze sprang up they had the greatest difficulty in keeping up the circulation in the icy cold.

Mr Bruce Ismay helped all he could to get the women into the boats. He implored one group of stewardesses to take their place with the others. The reply was: ‘But we are only stewardesses, sir!' when he said: ‘You are women; please get in at once,' and he insisted on their doing so. ‘We saw him later on when he was sitting on the gunwale of one of the last boats to leave. He had nothing on but his pyjamas and an overcoat and was blue with the cold.'

Mrs Gold said they did not sight the
Carpathia
until just before the sun was rising. One of the sailors caused the only laugh that was heard in the boat when, as a bird rose from the water, he facetiously said: ‘I like a bird that sings in the morning.'

Mrs Gold said the behaviour of the older children in the lifeboat was splendid, and they were a great consolation to the women. Other people, she continued, were Mrs A. Ryerson, of Philadelphia, and her two daughters. Mr Ryerson was a victim and went down with the ship. They had been coming over from Europe in consequence of a cablegram received announcing that one of the sons of Mr Ryerson had been killed in a motor accident.

Another of the women passengers in this lifeboat was a Portuguese bride on her honeymoon, whose husband was lost. A pathetic scene was witnessed in the early morning when the
Carpathia
appeared in sight. The bride was full of joy in the belief that it was still the
Titanic
, and that the husband, consequently, was yet safe. When she was disillusioned her grief was something terrible to witness. She broke down and cried piteously, being quite inconsolable.