Titanic's Final Hours

 The White Star Liner "Titanic" sailed from Southampton on her maiden voyage to New York on April 10, 1912. She was the largest ship afloat, and advertised to be the safest.  People believed advertising, helped by the large amount of hype that was published in the newspapers.  

Titanic's builders gave her double bottoms and divided her hull into 16 watertight compartments which most experts believed made her unsinkable.  There was very little fuss and fanfare at the sailing but her departure in England was anything but uneventful.

As the Titanic moved toward the end of the dock, the action of her passing by had sucked her away from the quay of another ship, the "New York," which was moored seaward of Titanic's berth. Sharp cracking sounds were heard as the mooring lines of the New York parted, causing the New York to swing around toward Titanic's bow. It was dragged back to the dock barely in time to avoid a collision.

On board the Titanic were 2,201 men, women and children.  The Empire bedrooms and the Georgian suites in First Class were occupied by many well-known wealthy men and women. Among them was J. Bruce Ismay, the chairman and managing director of the White Star Line, not to be left out of the maiden voyage. Below decks in steerage were 706 immigrants traveling in very crowded conditions many of whom were only comforted by their dreams of a new life in a new land.

Sunday was the Titanic's third day at sea and by all accounts, it was a clear but slightly cold day. In the Marconi Radio cabin, Operator Harold Bride sat with his earphones on but he was distracted because he was working on a list of figures. He didn't stop to answer when he heard the "Californian" summoning the Titanic on the radio.  Their message reported seeing about three icebergs, but Operator Bride did not bother to write it down.

At 1:42 in the afternoon, the Baltic summoned the Titanic on the wireless to warn her of ice on the Atlantic steamer tracks.  Operator Bride took down the message and passed it on to Titanic's Captain E. C. Smith.

Captain Smith walked on the promenade deck, saw Mr. Ismay and handed him the message.  After Ismay read it, he put it in his pocket and went on with his walk.

At dinner that night, it was a gay evening in the dining room. It was bitter cold on deck but the night was clear and calm with stars twinkling in the sky.  On the bridge, Second Officer Lightoller was relieved of his shift by First Officer Murdock at 10 o'clock.  There had been at least five iceberg warnings by then and Titanic's lookouts were told to stay alert.  The officers expected to reach the ice field any time after 9:30pm.

The steerage passengers had gone quiet earlier in the evening. The lights were slowly going out in first-and second-class cabins as most people had gone to sleep.  First Officer Murdock paced the bridge, kept a watch over the water but it remained undisturbed in the still darkness.   

Suddenly at 11:30pm, the ship's bell struck.  High up in the crow's nest, lookout Frederick Fleet strained his eyes as he searched the field ahead of him for the rumored icebergs. But he saw none.

In the Marconi Radio cabin, First Operator Phillips had come to relieve Operator Bride in time to hear the Californian's message chirp into the earphones.  

Californian transmitted: "Say, old man, we are stuck here, surrounded by ice."

Titanic's operator replied:  "Shut up, shut up; keep out. I am talking to Cape Race; you are jamming my signals."

The time was 11:40pm.  Dead ahead, rising out of the dark water was a vast, white monstrous shape directly in Titanic's path.  Lookout Frederick Fleet thought his eyes were deceiving him.  When he saw the iceberg was a reality, he struck three bells - the signal for 'something dead ahead.'   He snatched the phone and called the bridge "Iceberg! Right ahead!"

There was a slight shock and scraping of the ship, then a small list to port.  Slabs and chunks of ice fell on the foredeck. Slowly the Titanic came to a stop.

Captain Smith hurried out of his cabin "What has the ship struck?" he asked.

First Officer Murdock answered "An iceberg, sir. I hard astarboarded her and reversed the engines. I have closed the watertight doors."

A few lights went on in the first and second cabins and a few sleepy passengers looked through their portholes trying to see what was the matter.  One man stopped a passing steward in the hall and asked "Why have we stopped?"

"I don't know, sir, but I don't suppose it is anything much." he answered.

However, far below in the boiler rooms, men could see that the ship's damage was mortal.  

In Number 6 boiler room, water was gushing through a great gash about two feet above the floor plates. The ship was open, exposed to the sea. In just a few seconds, the iceberg's jagged claw had ripped open a 300-foot slash in the bottom of the unsinkable Titanic.

On deck, in corridors, and in staterooms, life slowly erupted again.  Men, women and children woke and asked questions. Orders were given to uncover the lifeboats but the majority of passengers did not know that the Titanic was sinking.

The shock of the collision had been so slight that some passengers were not yet awake.  Captain Smith ran to the door of the Marconi Radio cabin and found Operator Phillips at the radio joined by partly dressed sleepy-eyed Operator Bride watched over his shoulder.

Captain Smith:  "Send the call for assistance!"

Operator Phillips quickly sent "CQD - CQD - CQD - Sinking!"

Miles away, the Carpathia heard the call and sent back a radio message "Coming hard."

The CQD call changed the course of many ships, but not the Californian whose radio operator had just put down his earphones and was climbing into bed for the night.

The sea was surging into Titanic's hull.  At 12:20am, the lifeboats were swung out very slowly because the deckhands were late in reaching their stations.  Up to that point, there had been no boat drill for the crew so they didn't know to which boats they were assigned.

At 12:30am, the order circulated around the ship: "Women and children are to get in the lifeboats."  Stewards woke up passengers.  Life preservers were tied on women and children.  Some of the first and second-class male passengers smirked at their efforts because they believed the ship would never sink. 

At 12:45am, First Officer Murdock ordered Lifeboat Number 7 to be lowered.  The women hung back because they feared the icebergs. There were men who spoke encouraging words to them explaining that it was just "a precautionary measure. We'll see all of you again at breakfast."  

Then Lifeboat Number 8 was lowered, then Number 5, then Number 6.  It didn't go unnoticed that valuable lifeboat space was wasted in the haste to get off the ship; there were only 28 people in one lifeboat that had room for 65 people. 

Flares lighted up the night sky as the band played ragtime.  At 1 a.m. many passengers knew the Titanic was sinking because the lifeboats were more loaded now. Women's sobs filled the night air, many begged to stay with their husbands. Half-filled boats were ordered to come alongside the cargo ports to take on more passengers but the ports were never opened and the boats were never filled.  The water rose higher as passengers made their way to the lifeboats.

At 1:40 a.m., Mrs. Isador Straus was about to enter a lifeboat when she turned back to tell her husband that she had no intention of leaving him on the ship.  "Where you go, I will go." She stayed with him.

John Jacob Astor put his new bride in a lifeboat. As he stepped back, he prepared a cigarette for himself and told her "Goodbye dearie; I'll join you later."

At 2 a.m., as the great ship was sinking, many shrill sounds filled the night as the band played on.  In the Marconi Radio cabin, Operator Bride put a lifejacket around Operator Phillips who was leaning over his key, sending the coordinates over and over again.  "41-46 N, 50-14W. CQD-CQD-SOS."

Captain Smith checked in at the Marconi Radio door to tell the operators that they were relieved of their duty. "You have done your full duty.  You can do no more.  Now it's every man for himself."  He left the cabin and made his way back to the sinking bridge.

At 2:10 a.m., the gymnasium on the boat deck still hosted two gentlemen riding bicycles and another man who was sparring with a punching bag.   The band changed the music from ragtime to "Nearer My God To Thee."  A few male passengers sang the refrains while others knelt on the deck to pray.  The flares were still shooting in the sky, proving the engineers were still on the ship performing their duties.

A shrill scream echoed from a woman who was prepared to jump into the water. She cried out to a throng of men floating in the water below her. "Save me, please save me!"  A man drolly answered "Good lady, only God can save you now."

Bandmaster Hartley watched the water creep up his ankles as he and the eight musicians braced themselves against Titanic's slant. Many survivors later remembered the band's playlists.  

At 2:17 a.m. the Virginian heard a blurred 'CQD" distress call but then it stopped and they heard no more.  As the Titanic's lights start to flicker out, the band members played in darkness as the water lapped at their feet. 

A funnel snapped and crashed into the sea. The ship upended to about 60 degrees.  Down in the engine rooms, the stokers and engineers reeled against hot metal.  Titanic  stood on its end, then it took the plunge, at first slowly sliding to her grave, then more quickly.

Source: YouTube, The Tragedy of the Titanic

By 2:20 a.m, the greatest ship in the world had sunk. There was one long continuous moan as the lifeboats pulled safely away from the sinking ship, the screams of freezing people paddling in the frigid water. The boats were poorly manned, badly equipped, and sparsely loaded with passengers.

At 4:10 a.m., when the Carpathia picked up the first lifeboat of Titanic passengers, they learned that Titanic had sunk.  The cries started to die down as Carpathia's Captain Rostrum prepared the way for 711 survivors. It was too late to save the thousands that could have been saved. As sunrise crested the horizon, Titanic's survivors saw an iceberg floating idly by them, with packed ice jammed about its base and other icebergs heaving slowly nearby.

When the Carpathia's radio operator put on his earphones, he heard that the Californian had been the first to know of Titanic's distress and had been within sight as the Titanic sank.

Source:  "The Sinking of an Ocean Queen" by Hanson W. Baldwin 

Harold Cottam, Carpathia's Wireless Operator

 

The Carpathia rescues Titanic's survivors

It was by accident that Harold Thomas Cottam, the wireless operator on the Carpathia, caught Titanic's "C.Q.D." call.  

"I got Titanic's call at 11:20 o'clock New York Time, last Sunday night.  "Come at once, we've struck a berg. It's a 'C.Q.D.' call, old man."

"The Titanic's operator followed it with his position, which was latitude 41:46 north and longitude 50:14 west.  I asked if I should go to the Captain and tell him to turn back, and Titanic's reply was "Yes! Yes!"

"I went to the bridge and notified First Officer Dean of the call for help. He roused Captain Rostrom who was taking his turn below. He issued orders to turn the ship about immediately.  I hurried back to the cabin and just as I got there, I heard the Titanic working the Frankfort.  Titanic was having trouble in getting the Frankfort's signals because escaping steam and air from the expansion joint were making the signals almost indistinguishable.  I tried to get the Frankfort, for he apparently only got the Titanic's position, but I couldn't raise him. I think I received the C.Q.D. seven to ten minutes after the Titanic struck.

"It was only a streak of luck that I got the message at all, for on the previous night, I had been up until 2:30 o'clock in the morning and the night before that until 3 o'clock, and I had planned to get to bed early that night.  I thought I'd take some general news, as I didn't know how the coal strike in England was going, and I was interested in it.  When I had been taking this for some time, there was a batch of messages coming through for the Titanic from the long distance Marconi wireless station at Cape Cod which transmits the day's news at 10:30 New York time every evening.

"When Cape Cod had been going some time, he started sending a batch of messages for the Titanic, and having heard the Titanic man being pushed with work during the afternoon, I thought I'd give him a hand by taking them and retransmitting them the following morning, as I had nothing much to work on.

"As I was the nearest station to the Titanic, it was more or less my duty to retransmit them to him. When Cape Cod finished, I made up my daily list of communications and reported them to the officer on watch.   On returning to the cabin, I put the telephones on to verify a 'time rush' which I had exchanged with the Parisian early that afternoon.  A 'time rush' is the slang wireless word for the exchange of ship's time which is always made when you encounter another ship to see if your clocks agree. I put the telephones on, and called the Titanic to ask him if he was aware that a batch of messages were being transmitted for him via Cape Cod. And his answer was "Come at once. We have struck a berg."

"Previous to reporting the communication to the bridge, I had been in constant watch, so that I was certain that she must have struck while I was on the bridge, and that was seven to ten minutes before.  After hearing the Frankfort then,  I heard the Olympic calling the Titanic with a service message, and as the Titanic didn't reply, apparently he couldn't hear the Olympic, I said to the Titanic:

"Don't you hear the Olympic calling you? Go ahead and call."

"My wireless wasn't the type that was aboard the Titanic, so my calls would have no effect. The only other ship I heard at this time was the Baltic. She was calling Cape Race.  The Titanic exchanged sundry signals with the Carpathia, but apparently the Olympic and Carpathia were the only ships that heard them.  We steamed with every ounce of speed in us in the direction given by Titanic and we reached the spot before dawn.

"One of the engineers told me that the Carpathia had been making between 17 and 18 knots. Her usual speed is 13 to 14 knots. There was a double watch of men in the engine department and everything that could be done to hasten our arrival at the location of Titanic was being done.

"Around the time we were hearing the Titanic sending her wireless out over the sea in a last call for help.  The one I picked up was sent to the Olympic "We are sinking fast."

"The Frankfort kept calling and asking us what was the matter, but though she must have been nearer to Titanic than we were, she never arrived until after we had picked up the survivors and left to go to New York.  

"The last message from Titanic that I received was:  "Come quick. Our engine room is flooded up to the boilers."

"I answered that our boats were ready and for them to get theirs ready also, and that we were doing our utmost to get there in time.  There was no reply.  It was 11:55 New York time when I got that last signal from Titanic.

"I kept calling to warn them to look out for our rockets, which were being constantly sent up, but I shall never know whether he heard me or not.  From 11:55 until we reached the spot where Titanic foundered, I was listening for a spark from his emergency set, and when I didn't hear it, I was sure that he had gone down.  

"The first sign we got, shortly before dawn was a green light off theport bow of the Carpathia. It was a beacon on one of the small boats, and we knew then that the Titanic had gone, but that there were survivors for us to pick up.  

"I was kept busy in the wireless room for the next few minutes and the first of the rescues that I saw was a boat alongside and the passengers were being hauled aboard.

"Most of them were women and children. Some were crying and they seemed overcome by the calamity. As they were raised to the deck, several of them collapsed.  I saw wood and debris from the Titanic when dawn came, but I did not see a body in the water.  

"Daylight showed that we were right on the scene of the disaster, for there were ten or a dozen boats around us when it became light enough to see, and as rapidlya s possible, their occupants were taken aboard.  We remained near the spot, looking for additional survivors, for about three hours, and convinced that there was no human being alive in the sea of ice, we started for New York."

- The New York Times, April 19, 1912, page 2

Part Two: Story By Harold Bride, Wireless Operator

 

 

Continued from Part One

The Band Plays Rag-Time

"From aft came the tunes of the band. It was a rag-time tune, I don't know what.  Then there was "Autumn." Phillips ran aft and that was the last I ever saw of him alive.

"I went to the place I had seen the collapsible boat on the boat deck, and to my surprise I saw the boat and the men still trying to push it off. I guess there wasn't a sailor in the crowd - they couldn't do it.  I went up to them and was just lending a hand when a large wave came awash of the deck.  The big wave carried the boat off. I had hold of an oarlock and I went off with it. The next I knew, I was in the boat. But that was not all. I was in the boat, and the boat was upside down, and I was under it.

"I remember realizing I was wet through and that whatever happened, I must not breathe for I was under water.  I knew I had to fight for it and I did. How I got out from under that boat, I do not know, but I felt a breath of air at last.  There were men all around me - hundreds of them.  The sea was dotted with them, all depending on their life belts. I felt I simply had to get away from the ship. She was a beautiful sight then.

 

Transcript of above clip:  

"Smoke and sparks were rushing out of her funnel. There must have been an explosion but we had heard none. We only saw the big stream of sparks. The ship was gradually turning on her nose - just like a duck does that goes down for a dive. I had only one thing on my mind - to get away from the suction.  The band was still playing. I guess all of the band went down.

"They were playing 'Autumn' then. I swam with all my might. I suppose I was 150 feet away when the Titanic, on her nose, with her after-quarter sticking straight up in the air, began to settle - slowly."

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Pulled Into a Boat 

"When at last the waves washed over her rudder, there wasn't the  least bit of suction I could feel. She must have kept going just as slowly as she had been.

"I forgot to mention that, besides the Olympic and Carpathia, we spoke (to) some German boat, I don't know which, and told them how we were.  We also spoke (to) the Baltic. I remembered those things as I began to figure what ships would be coming toward us.

"I felt, after a little while, like sinking. I was very cold. I saw a boat of some kind near me and put all my strength into an effort to swim to it.  It was hard work. I was all done in when a hand reached out from the boat and pulled me aboard. It was our same collapsible. The same crowd was on it.

"There was just room for me to roll on the edge. I lay there not caring what happened. Somebody sat on my legs. They were wedged between slats and were being wrenched. I had not the heart left to ask the man to move. It was a terrible sight all around - men swimming and sinking."

"I lay where I was, letting the man wrench my feet out of shape. Others came near. Nobody gave them a hand.  The bottom-up boat already had more men than it would hold and it was sinking.

"At first the larger waves splashed over my clothing. Then they began to splash over my head and I had to breathe when I could.  As we floated around on our capsized boat, I kept straining my eyes for a ship's lights. Somebody said, 'Don't the rest of you think we ought to pray?'  The man who made the suggestion asked what the religion the others were. One was a Catholic, one a Methodist, one a Presbyterian.

"It was decided the most appropriate prayer for all was the Lord's Prayer.  We spoke it over in chorus with the man who first suggested that we pray as the leader. 

"Some splendid people saved us. They had a right-side-up boat, and it was full to its capacity.  Yet they came to us and loaded us all into it. I saw some lights off in the distance and knew a steamship was coming to our aid.

"I didn't care what happened. I just lay and gasped when I could, and felt the pain in my feet.  At last the Carpathia was alongside, and people were taken up a rope ladder. Our boat drew nearer and one by one, the men were taken off it.  

"One man was dead. I passed him and went to the ladder, although my feet pained terribly.  The dead man was Phillips. He had died on the raft from exposure and cold, I guess.  He had been all done in from the work before the wreck came. He stood his ground until the crisis had passed, and then he had collapsed, I guess.  But I hardly thought that then. I didn't think much of anything. I tried the rope ladder. My feet pained terribly, but I got to the top and felt hands reachng out to me.  

"The next thing I knew a woman was leaning over me in a cabin and I felt her hand waving back my hair and rubbing my face.  I felt somebody at my feet and felt the warmth of a jolt of liquor. Somebody got me under the arms and I was hustled down below to the hospital.  That was early in the day I guess. I lay in the hospital until nearly night, when they told me the Carpathia's wireless man was getting queer and asked if I would help out.

"After that I was never out of the wireless room, so I don't know what happened among the passengers. I saw nothing of Mrs. Astor or any of them. I just worked the wireless.  The splutter never died down. I knew it soothed the hurt, and felt like a tie to the world of friends and home.  

"How could I then take news queries?  Sometimes I let in a newspaper to ask a question and got a long string of stuff asking for more particulars about everything.  Whenever I started to take such a message, I thought of the poor people waiting for their messages to go - hoping for answers.  I shut off the inquirers and sent my personal messages.  I felt I did the right thing.

"If the Chester had had a decent operator, I could have worked with him longer, but he got terribly on my nerves with his insufferable incompetence. I was still sending my personal messages when Mr. Marconi and the Times reporter arrived to ask that I prepare this statement.

"There were, maybe 100 (messages) left, I would like to send them all, because I could rest easier if I knew all those messages had gone to the friends waiting for them. But an ambulance man is waiting with a stretcher, and I guess I have got to go with him. I hope my legs get better soon.  

"The way the band kept playing was a noble thing.  I heard it first while we were working the wireless, when there was a rag-time tune, and the last I saw of the band, was when I was floating out in the sea with my left belt on, still on deck playing 'Autumn.'  How they ever did it, I cannot imagine.

"That and the way Phillips kept sending after the Captain told him his life was his own, and to look out for himself, are two things that stand out in my mind over all the rest."

The End

Part One: Story By Harold Bride, Wireless Operator

Harold Bride was the only survivor of Titanic's two wireless operators.  The New York Times reporter who snagged his interview sported quite a feather in his cap but he remained nameless because he did not get a byline on the story.  The reason was because the article already had a byline and was shown under the headlines as "By Harold Bride, Surviving Wireless Operator of the Titanic." 

"This statement was dictated by Mr. Bride to a reporter for The New York Times, who visited him with Mr. Marconi in the wireless cabin of the Carpathia a few minutes after the steamship toucher her pier."

Here are some excerpts:

It begins with:
"In the first place, the public should not blame anybody because more wireless messages about the disaster to the Titanic did not reach shore from the Carpathia.  I positively refused to send press dispatches because the bulk of personal message with touching words of grief was so large.  The wireless operators aboard the Chester got all they asked for. And they were wretched operators.

They knew American Morse but not Continental Morse sufficiently to be worth while.  They taxed our endurance to the limit.  I had to cut them out at last, they were so insufferably slow, and go ahead with our messages of grief to relatives. We sent 119 personal messages today and 50 yesterday.  When I was dragged aboard the Carpathia, I went to the hospital at first. Then somebody brought word that the Carpathia's wireless operator was "getting queer" from the work. They asked me if I could go  up and help.  

"I could not walk. Both my feet were broken or something, I don't know what. I went up on crutches with somebody helping me.  I took the key and I never left the wireless cabin after that. Our meals were brought to us. We kept the wireless working all the time. The Navy operators were a great nuisance. I advise them all to learn the Continental Morse and learn to speed up in it if they ever expect to be worth their salt.  The Chester's man thought he knew it, but he was as slow as Christmas coming.

"We worked all the time. Nothing went wrong. Sometimes the Carpathia man sent and sometimes I sent.  There was a bed in the wireless cabin. I could sit on it and rest my feet while sending sometimes.  

"To begin at the beginning, I joined the Titanic at Belfast. I was born at Nunhead, England, 22 years ago, and joined the Marconi forces last July.  I first worked on the Hoverford, then on the Lusitania. I didn't have much to do aboard the Titanic except to relieve Phillips from midnight until some time in the morning when he was through sleeping.

"On the night of the accident, I was not sending, I was asleep.  I was due to be up and relieve Phillips earlier than usual.  And that reminds me - if it hadn't been for a lucky thing, we never could have sent any call for help.  The lucky thing was that the wireless broke down early enough for us to fix it before the accident happened.  We noticed something wrong on Sunday and Phillips and I worked seven hours to find it.  

"We found a "secretary" had burned out and we repaired it just a few hours before the iceberg was struck. Phillips said to me as he took the night shift "You turn in, boy, and get some sleep, and go up as soon as you can and give me a chance. I'm all done with the work of making repairs.

"There were three rooms in the wireless cabin. One was a sleeping room, one a dynamo room, and one an operating room. I took off my cothes and went to sleep inbed.  Then I was conscious of waking up and hearing Phillips sending to Cape Race. I read what he was sending. It was a traffic matter.

"I remembered how tired he was and I got out of bed without my clothes on to go relieve him. I didn't even feel the shock. I hardly knew it had happened after the Captain had come to  us. There was no jolt whatever.

"I was standing by Phillips telling him to go to  bed when the Captain put his head in the cabin and said "We've struck an iceberg, and I'm having an inspection made to tell what it has done for us. You better get ready to send out a call for assistance, but don't send it until I tell you."  The Captain went away and in 10 minutes, I should estimate the time, he came back.  We could hear the terrible confusion outside, but there was not the least thing to indicate that there was any trouble. The wireless was working perfectly.

"The Captain barely put his head in the door and said "Send the call for assistance!"  Phillips asked "What call should I send?"  The reply was "The regulation international call for help. Just that." Then the Captain was gone.

"Phillips began to send 'C.Q.D.'  He flashed away at it and we joked while he did so. All of us made light of the disaster. We joked that way while he flashed the signals for about five minutes. Then the Captain came back and asked "What are you sending?"  Phillips replied 'C.Q.D.'   The humor of the situation appealed to me. I cut in with a little remark that made us all laugh, including the Captain.  I said "Send 'S.O.S.' It's the new call, and it may be your last chance to send it.'

Phillips with a laugh changed the signal to S.O.S. The Captain told us we had been struck amdiships or just back of amidships.  Phillips told me it was ten minutes after he noticed the iceberg that the slight jolt was the collision's only signal (of what occurred).  We thought we were a good distance away.

"We said lots of funny things to each other in the next few minutes. We picked up first the steamship Frankfurd. We gave her our position and said we had struck an iceberg and needed assistance.  The Frankfurd operator went to tell his Captain.  He came back and we told him we were sinking by the head. By that time we could observe Titanic's distinct list forward.

"The Carpathia answered our signal. We told her our position and said we were sinking by the head. The operator went to tell his Captain and in five minutes he returned and told us the Captain of the Carpathia was putting about and heading for us.

"Our Captain had left us at this time and Phillips told me to run and tell him what the Carpathia had answered. I did so, and I went through an awful mass of people to get to his cabin. The decks were full of scrambling men and women. I saw no fighting but I heard tell of it.

"I came back and heard Phillips giving the Carpathia fuller directions. Phillips told me to put on my clothes Until that moment, I forgot that I was not dressed.  I went to my cabin and dressed. I brought an overcoat to Phillips. It was very cold. I slipped the overcoat upon him while he worked. Every few minutes, Phillips would send me to the Captain with little messages. They were merely telling how the Carpathia was coming our way and gave their speed.  

"I noticed as I came back from one trip that they were putting off women and children into the lifeboats. I noticed that thelist forward was also increasing.  Phillips told me the wireless was growing weaker. The Captain came and told us our engine rooms were taking water and that the dynamos might not last much longer. We sent that word to the Carpathia.

"I went out on deck and looked around. The water was pretty close up to the boat deck.  There was a great scramble aft, and how poor Phillips worked through it, I don't know.  He was a brave man. I learned to love him that night and I suddenly felt for him a great reverence to see him standing there, sticking to his work, while everybody else was raging about.  I will never live to forget the work of Phillips for the last awful fifteen minutes.

"I thought it was about time to look about and see if there was anything detached that would float. I remembered that every member of the crew had a special life belt and ought to know where it was. I remembered that mine was under my bunk. I went and got it, then I thought how cold the water was.

"I remembered I had some boots and I put those on, and an extra jacket and I put that on. I saw Phillips standing there still sending away, giving the Carpathia details of just how we were doing.

"We picked up the Olympic and told her we were sinking by the head and were about all down.  As Phillips was sending the message, I strapped his life belt to his back. I had already put on his overcoat. I wondered if I could get him into his boots. He suggested with a sort of laugh that I look out and see if all the people were off in the boats, or if any boats were left, or how things were.

"I saw a collapsible boat near a  funnel and went over to it. Twelve men were trying to boost it down to the boat deck. They were having an awful time. It was the last boat left. I looked at it longingly a few minutes. Then I gave them a hand and over she went. They all started toscramble in on the boat deck, and I walked back to Phillips. I said the last raft had gone.

"Then came the Captain's voice: 'Men, you have done your full duty. You can do no more. Abandon your cabin. Now it's every man for himself.  You look out for yourselves. I release you. That's the way of it at this kind of a time. Every man for himself.'

"I looked out. The boat deck was awash. Phillips clung on to sending and sending. He clung on for about ten minutes or maybe fifteen minutes after the Captain had released him.  The water was then coming into our cabin.

"While he worked, something happened that I hate to tell about.  I was back in my room getting Phillips's money for him, and as I looked out the door, I saw a stoker, or somebody from below decks, leaning over Phillips from behind.  He was too busy to notice what the man was doing.  The man was slipping the life belt off Phillips's back. He was a big man too. As you can see, I am very small. I don't know what it was I got hold  of. I remembered in a flash the way Phillips had clung on - how I had to fix that life belt in place because he was too busy to do it. 

"I knew that man from below decks had his own life belt and he should have known where to get it. I suddenly felt a passion not to let that man die a decent sailor's death. I wished he might have stretched rope or walked a plank. I did my duty. I hope I finished him, I don't know. We left  him on the cabin floor of the wireless room, and he was not moving."

Continued in Part Two

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New York Times, Front Page - April 19, 1912

Front page, New York Times, April 19, 1912

 

By Friday, the newspapers had more information to report and they used every bit of newspaper space to do it.  The New York Times went for sensationalism by cramming as much information as possible into their big wordy headlines so it would draw people to pay their two cents for a copy.  

The most noticeable draw on the front page was the wireless operator's first hand account (as told to a reporter who interviewed him and Mr. Marconi) when the Carpathia docked. The second draw fed into the controversy about the survival tactics Bruce Ismay used to get off the ship, intimating that other wealthy gentlemen were left behind.

As always, the numbers of survivors and the dead changed with every issue and every newspaper.

The numbers per The New York Times (4-19-1912)

Continue reading:

Part One of Harold Bride's story

Part Two of Harold Bride's story

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Warned by The Mesaba

 Captain Smith had been warned by several ships that there were icebergs on their course, but the first warning came from the Atlantic transport liner Mesaba, who at the time was about 90 miles away when they transmitted their message to Titanic.  The response was a very terse "thanks," so the Mesaba kept on its course.

Source:

New York Times, syndicated to The Times-Tribune, Scranton PA

*****

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Passenger Stories - Francis Davis Millet

Francis D. Millet

Francis Davis Millet, First-Class passenger

Born: November 3, 1848 in Mattapoisett, Massachusetts

Occupation: Author, Painter, Sculptor

Married: Elizabeth Merrill, 4 children

Boarded at: Cherbourg, France

Traveled with: Major Archibald Butt

Ticket #13509, Cost £26, 11s

Cabin: E-38

Died: April 15, 1912, age 63

Body #249, recovered by the Mackay-Bennett 

******

At age 15, Francis Davis Millet served in the Civil War in the 60th Massachusetts Infantry, first as a drummer boy, then as a surgical assistant to his father who was a surgeon. His birthdate was debated until it was revealed in a diary that he kept during his military service which verified an entry on November 3, 1864 that he celebrated his 16th birthday. 

Millet graduated from Harvard with a Master of Arts degree, became a reporter for the Boston Courier and later its editor. During the Centennial Exposition in 1876, he was a correspondent for The Advertiser. His hobby was drawing portraits of friends and after the war, he decided to seriously study art at the Royal Academy of Fine Arts in Antwerp, Belgium. He was awarded a silver medal the first year, and a gold medal in the second year. He traveled often, making his experiences pay him for the pleasure of traveling because he worked for the New York Herald, the London Daily News, and the London Graphic.  

He once said if he didn't have a passion for something, then he did not excel in it. He enjoyed doing things that he was good at, and he was good at the things he enjoyed doing. 

As a correspondent for several publications, he published accounts of his war experiences while under fire in the Russian Turkish war, in addition to writing short stories and doing Tolstoy translations.  He was a decorated artist and sculptor, and his work is on display at the Baltimore Customs House, Trinity Church in Boston, and the Capitol buildings in Wisconsin and Minnesota. He used the color red liberally in his paintings and suggested the reason was due to his exposure to blood during the war.

He was the superintendent of decoration for the Columbian Exhibition at the Chicago World's Fair in 1893.  He traveled widely to work on other worlds' fairs in Vienna, Paris, and Tokyo.  He became one of the founders of the School of the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston and suggested the appointment of its first dean, Emil Otto Grundmann, his old friend from the Royal Academy of Fine Arts in Antwerp, Belgium.

Millet was a close friend of author Mark Twain who was best man at his wedding to Elizabeth "Lily"Merrill in Paris 1879. The couple had four children and his daughter Kate was a frequent model for John Singer Aargeant, a famous portrait artist.

In 1907 Millet designed the Civl War medal for the War Department and the 1908 Spanish Campaign Medal.  In 1910, he was a founding member and vice chairman of the US Commission of Fine Arts until his death in 1912 aboard the Titanic. He was traveling to Washington from France to attend a meeting with President Taft to choose the site and the architect for the Lincoln Memorial. 

Although Millet was married with children, for the majority of his married life, he lived with Major Archibald Butt, White House military aide to US Presidents Roosevelt and Taft.  Though they were nearly 20 years apart in age, Millet had known Butt since his early newspaper days.   

In 1911, Butt bought a mansion at 2000 "G" Street NW in Washington DC and Millet immediately moved in with him.  Though Butt bought the home, their friends referred to it as their home. 

Butt and Millet were famous for their parties that were well attended by Congressmen, Supreme Court Justices and even President Taft. Speculation about their relationship was always implied, but never discussed openly. Butt referred to Millet as "my artist friend who lives with me."

British historian Richard Davenport-Hines wrote in 2012 that the "enduring partnership of Butt and Millet was an early case of 'don't ask, don't tell.'  Washington insiders chose not to focus on their relationship, but they recognized their mutual affection.  They were together in death as they were in life."  

In early 1912, Major Butt's health began to suffer due to the stress of being the middleman of quarrels between Roosevelt and Taft. Millet suggested he take a leave of absence for six weeks. Together Butt and Millet sailed to Europe and spent time in Rome and other countries. In 1912, Butt was 46 years old, Millet was 64.  

As First Class passengers, Butt boarded Titanic in Southampton on April 10, 1912 and Millet, delayed by an appointment, boarded at Cherbourg France later that afternoon.  Butt was popular and well known as a favorite guest at social events.  Millet's career was also renowned when he boarded Titanic. 

Millet didn't think too much of the other people on the ship, according to a letter he mailed in Queenstown, mentioning that there were "a number of obnoxious American women," calling them "the scourge of any place they infest and were worse on shipboard than anywhere else." He also noted that there were many passengers who brought along "their tiny dogs and others who led their husbands around like pet lambs."

Butt's final moments on Titanic had many different versions, some were utterly fantastic and sensational, while other versions revered him for his kindness to departing women and children. Most of the versions were largely unverifiable, however, at lease one woman remembered Millet helping women and children into lifeboats.  

Millet's body was found by the crew of the MacKay Bennett recovery ship whose paperwork identified Millet's body as: 

"No. 249-Male - Estimated Age, 65. Hair - Grey. Clothing - Light overcoat, black plants, grey jacket, evening clothing.  Effects: Gold watch and chain; "F.D.M." engraved on watch, glasses, two gold studs, silver tablet bottle, some money in a gold and silver in a pocketbook."

Millet's body was returned to Boston and he was buried at Saint John's Central Cemetery, in Bridgewater, Massachusetts.

Butt's body was never found. 

In 1913, the Butt-Millet Memorial Fountain was erected in Washington DC in their memory.  Millet's diary is at the Smithsonian Institute in Washington DC. His murals and portraits survive. His essays and short stories are timeless and available at most public libraries.

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Reports From The Carmania and The Niagara

 The steamship "Carmania" of the Cunard Line reached the Port of New York on Monday April 15, 1912 and reported that she had to pick her way through some of the largest and most dangerous ice fields ever encountered by a trans-Atlantic liner.  It took the vessel four hours to pass through one field of ice on Thursday afternoon. 

Captain Dow was continually on the bridge and counted 25 icebergs, the largest he estimated to be 250 feet high.  All of the passengers in the 465 cabins and all of the 993 passengers in steerage crowded the rails to witness the sight. 

The Carmania had been in the field about an hour when the wireless operator picked up a message from the steamer "Niagara" of the French Line, stating that she was having trouble.  

The Carmania came upon the Niagara an hour later to find she had bumped into two small icebergs which punched holes in her hull.  Several of her forward plates had been sprung by the ice, but all were above the water line.  She signaled that she would be able to make it to port under her own steam.

Niagara arrived at the Port of New York with her starboard bow badly crushed. The captain reported that it happened near latitude 41:50. This was four days before the Titanic hit an iceberg in the same region.  

This photograph was taken from the deck of the Niagara at daybreak, a few hours after her collision.

Photo of the icefields, from the deck of the Niagara

Passenger Stories - Anna and Samuel Abelson

Samuel Abelson, Second Class

Born in 1882 in Russia

Occupation: Bookkeeper

Boarded at Cherbourg, France

Ticket #3381, Cost £24

Traveled with wife Anna

Died: April 15, 1912, age 28

Body never recovered

and

Anna Nantes Jacobson Abelson, Second Class 

Born:  September 14, 1883 in Russia

Occupation: Dressmaker

Lifeboat #10

Traveled with husband Samuel Abelson 

Died: January 18, 1972 at age 88 in Florida

*****

Anna and Samuel Abelson spoke no English, only Russian. They had no children. The couple was traveling to New York to visit Samuel's brother but stopped in Paris France to visit Anna's brother. They boarded Titanic at Cherbourg, France as Second Class passengers.    

When Titanic struck an iceberg, the couple was asleep in their cabin when a knock on the door awakened them. A steward was going door to door to tell everyone to put on a lifebelt and go up to the boat deck.

Anna was placed in Lifeboat #10 but Samuel died in the sinking and his body was never recovered.  Once aboard the Carpathia, she received dry clothes, food, and warm beverages. She waited in line to complete the form to send a telegram to her brother in Paris to let him know her status. However, the message was never transmitted because the wireless operators were so overwhelmed with sending so many telegrams.

After Anna arrived in New York, the Hebrew Shelter and Emigrant Aid Society helped her with money and clothing.  

Although Anna Abelson claimed it was too painful to remember that awful night, she managed to tell her story several times to reporters. In May 1962, she told a very heavily embellished (and mostly untrue) story to a reporter at the Herald Statesman about her time on Titanic. She said she had been seasick for most of the trip. On the night of the sinking, she was in bed when there was a knock on their cabin door.  A steward advised them of the situation. She was dressed only in shoes, nightgown and robe, but carried a Titanic steamer rug. 

She said they both went up on deck and the call was for women and children first. Anna said she immediately left her husband's side and jumped off the ship into the icy waters. It was some time later that she was picked up by a passing lifeboat. 

It was more likely that she was pushed into one of the lifeboats.  She said instead of keeping her steamer rug for herself, that she chose to wrap it around two young children who were shivering beside her in the lifeboat.

She also told the reporter she wasn't able to eat the whole time that she was on the Carpathia, a story that changed in 1962. She spoke of the kindness of Carpathia's passengers and how their crew created skirts from blankets to wrap up the survivors who had no clothes.  

When she arrived in New York, she was met by some of her father's friends. She was taken to St. Luke's Hospital in New York City where she was treated for shock, exposure and exhaustion.

Being so seasick and having survived the Titanic disaster, it did not keep Anna Abelson from sailing again in the future. In 1914, Anna sailed to Paris to visit friends and family. She came back to the US in August 1914, sailing on the Rotterdam. 

She traveled to Paris again in the 1920s and again in the 1930s.  She claimed she took her famous Titanic steamer rug with her on all her voyages and wrapped herself in it at night. At home, she said she kept it in her automobile but said she sent it with her brother-in-law when he served in World War I in Europe.

When Anna consulted a law firm about Titanic-related claims, she met her future husband, lawyer Edward Douglas Bolton. They married on July 6, 1920 and made their home in New York. They never had any children. 

Anna was invited to a screening of the film "A Night to Remember" in New York City. She claimed she had been treated like royalty, but said she wasn't able to watch the film. She left before any of the sinking scenes.

In the late 1960's, the Boltons moved to New Smyrna Beach, Florida. In 1970, a reporter for the Orlando Sentinel interviewed Anna and again she told the same exaggerated story of how she came to be picked up by a lifeboat after jumping into the icy water. She lied by saying she was a new 16-year old bride, despite the fact that she was born in 1883 and was 28 years old in 1912.  She never spoke about their activities while they were on the luxury liner.  She also completely left out that her husband perished in the disaster, focusing only on herself. When the reporter asked about her occupation, she again overstated it by saying she was "the leading dressmaker in New York in 1912." 

Anna and Edward Bolton were married for 52 years. Anna died on January 18, 1972 and her husband followed her on December 7, 1972.

In later years, Anna said she couldn't bear to think about the events of that night because it was so painful, even though she had given fabricated stories to the Red Cross and at least two newspapers.

The Red Cross notes:

"Husband drowned, wife rescued, there are no children. Samuel was a 30-year old bookkeeper and Anna was a 28-year old dressmaker.  Anna will be living with her husband's brother in New York City.  She suffered temporary disability due to exposure, but is now able to support herself by her trade. The property loss was more than $4,000. She received about $250 in relief money from the Red Cross and other agencies."

In October 1912, Anna Abelson received $1,405 for the claim she filed for the loss of her husband and belongings.

Further Reading:

Father Browne

Crew Stories - Archie Jewell, Lookout

False Reports of the Numbers

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Notable First Class Passengers

Most of the First Class passengers on the Titanic were wealthy, certainly wealthy enough to afford the price of a ticket which varied from $2,000 to as much as $5,000 for luxurious private accommodations.

Charlotte Drake Cardeza, a widow and heiress to a textile mill, bought First Class accommodations for herself (cabin B-51), her 37-year old son Thomas Martinez Cardeza (cabin B-52), his valet Louis Lesueur (cabin B-101), and her maid Miss Annie Moore Ward (cabin B-53) for the seven day voyage.  The cost was £512, 6s 7d -which converted to about $2,600 US ($69,000 in 2020 dollars).  


Most First Class passengers expected to spend their time exclusively in the company of other First Class passengers.  Third Class (steerage) passengers were confined to the lower section of the ship separated by locked gates.   Second class passengers enjoyed their own amenities on a separate deck.

First Class had its own shuffleboard and game room, a heated salt water indoor swimming pool (there was no pool on the top deck like modern day ships), a private dining room, several private day rooms and card rooms, 10 to 13 course dinner menus, room service, afternoon tea served in their own tea room, a separate cafe serving breakfast and morning tea.

Tea Time! (colorized from a 1912 photograph)

Some, but not all, suites had heaters, fireplaces, card tables, dining sets, parlor settees, and writing desks.

First Class dining room. Notice the ornate wall and ceiling panels

The First Class dining room was very impressive with hand carved wall and ceiling panels and modern furniture.  Dinner was always a long evening, serving more than ten courses. Champagne and cocktails were complimentary. 

Menus for First Class Passengers

There were 39 private suites with a price tag of over $5,000 per suite. There were 325 First Class passengers on board – 175 men, 144 women and 6 children. 

Of the 325, there were 202 First Class survivors – 57 men, 140 women and 5 children. 

NOTABLE FIRST CLASS PASSENGERS

John Jacob Astor IV 

The most notable passenger was John Jacob Astor IV was a lieutenant colonel during the Spanish American War, a real estate mogul, an investor, and inventor. He and a cousin built a famous hotel in New York City - the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel.  He did not survive the sinking.

Madeleine Astor

John Jacob Astor was accompanied by his new wife, Madeleine Talmage Astor, who was five months pregnant with their child. They were returning home after a five-month honeymoon.  Most society matrons were not very accepting of their marriage due to the age gap.  He was 47, she was 19.  











 

After the sinking, Mrs. Astor gave birth to a son in August 1912 and named the child John Jacob Astor V.  According to John Jacob Astor's will, his wife Madeleine was forbidden to remarry if she wanted to keep the $5 million that he left her from the Astor fortune.  However, love won out and she married twice more causing her to lose control of the fortune which reverted to Astor's other children. Madeleine died in 1940 at the age of 46.

Dorothy Gibson, actress

Silent film actress Dorothy Gibson, who survived the sinking, made a film about two weeks after the disaster. In the film, she wore the same clothes she had worn while she evacuated the ship to the lifeboats.  She died in 1946 at the age of 56.

 

 

Margaret Brown

Mrs. Margaret Tobin Brown (Molly) was the 44-year old ex-wife of real estate mogul J. J. Brown who gave her a large divorce settlement. She survived the sinking and became forever known as "the Unsinkable Molly Brown."   She died in 1932 at the age of 65.

Benjamin Guggenheim

Benjamin Guggenheim was the fifth of seven sons of Meyer Guggenheim who made his money in mining. He was married but he and his wife lived separate lives. He kept an apartment in Paris France. He also had a mistress, actress Leontine Aubart, with whom he was traveling on Titanic. The party also included his valet and her maid. Benjamin Guggenheim and his valet died in the sinking, both women survived.

Isidor and Ida Straus

Isidor Straus was a co-owner of Macy's department store and a Democratic Congressmen in New York's House of Representatives. He was traveling with his wife Ida. Isidor was offered a seat in a lifeboat but he refused until all women and children were evacuated from the ship. When Ida was urged to get in a lifeboat, she refused because her husband would not go with her. They both died in the sinking. Isidor Straus's body was recovered but Ida Straus's body was never found.

Colonel Archibald Gracie IV

Colonel Archibald Gracie IV was a wealthy real estate mogul and author of books on the Civil War. He was on vacation and returning home on Titanic. He was responsible for helping many survivors to get in lifeboats. He survived the sinking, wrote a book "The Truth About Titanic" later retitled "A Survivor's Story" but died six months after the disaster from diabetes, which was aggravated by exposure and frostbite from spending hours in icy water waiting to be rescued.

George D. Widener

George Dunton Widener was owner of the Philadelphia Traction Company (PTC), the bus service in the city of Philadelphia. He also sat on the board of directors of several banks and The Academy of Fine Arts. He was traveling with his wife, her maid, his son, and valet. The men drowned, the women survived.

Major Archibald Butt

Major Archibald Butt was a former American newspaperman and US Army officer. He was the military aide to President Theodore Roosevelt and President Taft. He was on a six week vacation traveling with friend and housemate Francis Davis Millet. He helped many survivors to get off the ship, but he died in the sinking with his friend Millet. Both bodies were recovered and returned to their families for burial.

Charles Melville Hays

Charles Melville Hays was the President of Grand Trunk Railway. He was traveling with wife Clara, his daughter, son-in-law, a maid, a secretary, and a valet. The men died in the sinking.  Hays' body was recovered by the CS Minia and buried in Montreal Canada.

John Borland Thayer II

John Borland Thayer II was Vice President of the Pennsylvania Railroad for nearly 30 years. He was traveling with wife Marian and his son Jack. His daughter Florence Thayer Cumings traveled separate from them and shared a cabin with her husband John Bradley Cumings.  

Both John Borland Thayer II and John Bradley Cumings died in the sinking. Marian, Florence, and Jack survived.  In 1940, Jack published 500 copies of a pamphlet for family and friends titled The Sinking of the S. S. Titanic which was instrumental to explorer Robert Ballard in locating the shipwreck.

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