The Band That Played On (26 page)

Rostron had to decide whether to head for the nearest land or head back to New York. “There was talk of turning back to Halifax, a run of about 36 hours,” wrote Katherine Hurd, “but this plan was abandoned, I think because of the icebergs which were unusual in size and number for that latitude and time of year.” Rostron chose the safest option, New York, and later that day Cottam sent a list of all survivors to officers on the
Olympic
, who would then pass them to White Star in New York. This was the first time that anyone on land had any inkling of the extent of the disaster. None of the musicians was on this list.

On the night of April 14, Martha Woodward woke in her bed in Headington, Oxford, convinced something had happened to her son Wes. At least, this was the story passed down in the family. As with all tragedies of this nature, the tales of warnings offered beforehand, sensations felt during, and visitations experienced afterward, have to be listened to with skepticism. A Scottish Salvation Army captain would later swear that on the fourteenth he was tending to a dying orphan girl who told him that she could see a big ship sinking with a person called Wally playing the violin coming toward her. Unknown to the child, the captain had apparently known Wallace Hartley as a boy.

The first that Britain knew about the sinking came from the evening editions of newspapers on Monday, April 15, when the story was that all had been rescued. On Tuesday, April 16, the news was bleaker. “Disaster to
Titanic
on Her Maiden Voyage” was the headline in the
Daily Sketch
with news inside that 655 were known to have been saved but 1,700 lives were feared lost. The next day it was 1,500 lost with 868 saved.

Part of the problem for the newspapers and for White Star was that no one was certain that the
Carpathia
was the only ship carrying survivors. There were vague hopes that other ships in the vicinity had rescued people. Then on April 18 came the news from White Star in Liverpool that the captain of the
Olympic
had announced: “Please allay rumours that
Virginian
has any
Titanic
passengers. Neither has the
Tunisian
. Believe only survivors on
Carpathia
.” As the
Daily Sketch
put it: “The worst fears have now received official confirmation.”

For the families of the musicians, the wait for final confirmation was tormenting. Hope was continually interrupted by grief and then grief was temporarily interrupted by hope. On April 17 the
Dumfries Standard
reported that among those on the
Titanic
was “Mr John Hume, son of Mr Andrew Hume, music teacher, George Street, Dumfries.” It added, “No news has yet been received as to whether he is among survivors.” The next day Andrew Hume visited the White Star Line office in Liverpool to find out what had happened. On April 20 the newspaper wrote: “Fears regarding the fate of Mr. John Hume, Dumfries . . . have now been practically confirmed.” The next day a memorial service was held for him at the Congregational chapel he’d attended as a boy.

It was also on April 20 that Charlie Black sent handwritten letters to each set of parents announcing the loss of their sons.

It is with great sadness that I have to give you the painful news of the death of your son in the wreck of the White Star Line steamer
Titanic
this past Monday April 15th. During the time that he was employed by us we have been in every way extremely satisfied with him both for his musical talent and his excellent character. It may be a comfort for you to know to know that he died a hero having had the courage to play as the ship sank. His name has been published today in all the newspapers where he is considered to be a hero. I would be grateful if you could acknowledge receipt of this letter. I share in your grievous loss and send you my sincerest sympathy.

Ronald and Amy Brailey had been distraught at hearing no news whatsoever about their only son but then were told that he had survived. They sent a telegram to Teresa Steinhilber in Southport saying there was “no cause for despair.” A few hours later they discovered that the report was wrong. Their son Theo was not among the survivors. They sent a second telegram telling Teresa of his death. She reacted so badly to the news that her parents sent her to Southport Convalescent Home to recover from the shock.

Letters and cards began pouring into the homes of the musicians’ bereaved families. Ronald Brailey published a letter of thanks in the spiritualist magazine
Light
in which he quoted from Shakespeare’s
Troilus and Cressida
:

Permit me to ask that the many correspondents who have sent to our home their sympathies over our great, great loss, will accept this acknowledgement, as it is impossible for me to reply to them individually. Truly we have found that “one touch of nature makes the whole world kin,” for from all over the British Isles we have received letters filled with expressions of deepest sympathy. The writers are of all shades of religious belief, and out of the oneness of hearts they have poured balm upon our sorrow for the physical loss of our earthly light and joy.

Soon after the sinking was confirmed, White Star contracted the Commercial Cable Company to collect any passengers’ bodies floating in the Atlantic. The CS
Mackay-Bennett
, one of its ships used to lay and repair transatlantic telegraph cables, was converted into a floating morgue for the task. On April 17 it set out from Halifax, Nova Scotia, with a search crew, hastily built coffins, an Anglican priest, an embalmer, and a team of undertakers. The job was to bring back as many bodies as possible for identification and burial.

Once the debris field was reached, search parties went out in small cutters and hauled the bodies aboard with nets and poles. On April 22 cable engineer Frederick Hamilton wrote in his journal:

We steamed close past the iceberg today, and endeavored to photograph it, but rain is falling and we do not think the results will be satisfactory. We are now standing eastwards amongst great quantities of wreckage. Cutter lowered to examine a lifeboat, but it is too smashed to tell anything, even the name is not visible. All round is splintered woodwork, cabin fittings, mahogany fronts of drawers, carvings, all wrenched away from their fastenings, deck chairs, and then more bodies. Some of these are fifteen miles distant from those picked up yesterday.

In seven days they found 306 bodies, far more than they had anticipated, and 116 of these were buried at sea because of lack of identification. All of the bodies were numbered, were cataloged by description and personal effects, and had tags attached to their toes. Only three of the musicians were found and, although their numbers are close together, suggesting they were found near each other, they would appear to have been picked up on three consecutive days—Hume on April 23, a day that Hamilton described as full of “rain and fog”; Clarke on April 24, which was “cold, wet, miserable and comfortless”; and Hartley on April 25. It was a harrowing job for the seamen. As Hamilton reflected, “Even the most hardened must reflect on the hopes and fears, the dismay and despair, of those whose nearest and dearest, support and pride, have been wrenched from them by this tragedy.”

Body number 193 was Jock Hume. He was judged to be around twenty-eight (actual age twenty-one); had light, curly hair; was five feet nine inches; and weighed 145 pounds. He’d been wearing a light raincoat, a purple muffler, and his bandsman’s suit. He appeared to have lost his socks and shoes and was wearing a silver watch. In his pockets were a cigarette case, an empty purse, a knife with a carved pearl handle, a mute, a brass African Royal Mail button, and an English lever watch. When these items were sent back to his parents, they were valued by the postal service as being worth $5 (Canadian).

Body number 202 was Fred Clarke. His estimated age was thirty-five (actual age twenty-eight) and he had black hair and no marks on his body. He was wearing a gray overcoat and gray muffler over his uniform. His socks were green, and he wore an initialed gold ring on one finger, a gold watch on his wrist, and a crucifix around his neck. In his pockets were a diamond pin, keys, a knife, a sovereign case, a pocketbook, a memo book, and eight shillings in cash.

Wallace Hartley was body 224. He looked to be twenty-five (actual age thirty-three), had brown hair, and was wearing a brown coat over his uniform. On his feet were green socks and black boots. On one of his fingers was a diamond solitaire ring. In his pockets were a gold fountain pen (initialed); a silver cigarette; a silver matchbox given to him by the staff at Collinson’s Café in Leeds; a nickel watch on a gold chain; a gold cigar holder; a collar stud; a pair of scissors; an insignia cut from an old uniform; German, English, American, and French coins; a key; the letter from his friend Bill; and a telegram sent to him on board the
Titanic
. The earliest reports specifically noted that he was found with “his music case strapped to his body” and that “this will be forwarded to the White Star Company” (
Daily Sketch
, May 3, 1912, and other papers). This item, however, which presumably contained his violin, was never listed among the effects signed for by his father and its disappearance has long puzzled
Titanic
historians.

The items found on their bodies offer a tantalizing snapshot of the three musicians but raise as many questions as answers. Jock Hume’s purple muffler and light raincoat suggests someone more concerned with appearance than comfort and warmth, an impression that confirms what is already known about him. But was the African Royal Mail button taken from a previous uniform, and did it mean that he had also traveled to Africa? Was the mute from his violin or another instrument?

Were Fred Clarke’s notebooks connected with his work or were they personal journals? His mother signed for them, but no one in the family knows what happened to them. Tantalizingly someone wrote the word
Communicate
beneath the typewritten list of his effects and then wrote two names and addresses: Grechten Bechtel of Stapleton, New York, and Thomas Graham of Chryston, Glasgow. These must have been names found in the memo book that the medical examiner felt should be contacted. Grechten Bechtel was the maiden name of an American girl who by 1911 was married and living in New Brighton on the Wirral, but who later moved back to America. Was Clarke planning to visit her or stay with her family in Stapleton on Staten Island?

Wallace Hartley’s belongings indicate his senior position—plenty of gold, silver, and diamonds—but was the loose change his collection of tips for the night? The varieties of currencies suggest so, because, as far as we know, he had never traveled to France or Germany. The fact that he had almost exactly twice as much sterling as Clarke may indicate that they’d already carved up the evening’s earnings in accordance with the contract signed with Charlie Black—one portion to each bandsman and two to the leader. If this was so, the bandsmen could have made £2 a crossing, the bandleader £4, which, taken over a month, would far exceed their wages.

Hartley and Clarke were easy to identify because they had items bearing either their names or initials. Clarke had a business card with his old address in Lowther Street, Liverpool, scored through and his new address, 22 Tunstall Street, added in pen. Hume had no such clues and so a photograph was taken of him in his coffin and sent to the White Star Line for identification. On July 16, Harold Wingate of White Star in New York wrote to Nova Scotia’s deputy provincial secretary, Frederick F. Mathers, saying: “Our Southampton office has been able to identify no. 193 as John Law Hume a bandsman of the
Titanic
from the photograph. We expected this body to be identified as the uniform and effects indicated that it was one of the bandsmen.”
¹

Next of kin were given the choice of having their loved ones buried in Canada after the
Mackay-Bennett
arrived back on April 30 or having the body returned. A letter from the White Star Line auctioned in 2002 revealed that at least one of the passenger’s relatives was asked to pay £20 to ship a body back to England. The letter read in part: