Voices from the Titanic (10 page)

We started from Cherbourg on the evening of the tenth, proceeding to Queenstown, at which port we arrived about noon of the eleventh, and, after a delay of about 45 minutes, continued on our voyage. From the time of leaving Queenstown until the time of the accident, the trip was remarkably smooth and it was very bright and sunny except for about half an hour of fog on one occasion.

The vessel on the first day out from Queenstown, that is from noon of the eleventh to noon of the twelfth, made, it was reported, 494 miles. On the second day, from noon of the twelfth to noon of the thirteenth, about 519 miles, and on the third day, from noon of the thirteenth to noon of the fourteenth, 546 miles.

The general impression prevailing aboard the vessel was that the speed on the fourth day would be better than that shown on any preceding day and that we would arrive in New York
sometime on Tuesday afternoon. The impression also prevailed among the passengers that the course of the vessel was more southwest than due west, the supposition being that this was to avoid fog. On Sunday, the day of the accident, the weather was particularly beautiful; there were no clouds, the sea was smooth and the temperature very moderate throughout the day.

After dinner in the evening and until about 10 p.m. we were seated in the lounge on the dining room saloon deck listening to the music. About the time stated we went to one of the upper decks, where Mr Warren wanted to take a walk, as was his custom before retiring. He did not, however, as the temperature had fallen very considerably and the air was almost frosty, although the night was perfect, clear and starlit.

We retired about 10.30, ship's time, and we went to sleep immediately. About 11.45, ship's time, we were awakened by a grinding noise and the stoppage of the vessel. Our room was on the starboard side of deck D, about 30ft above the water and in line with the point of impact.

I arose immediately, turned the lights on and asked Mr Warren what terrible thing had happened. He said, ‘Nothing at all,' but just at that moment I heard a man across the corridor say, ‘We have certainly struck an iceberg.'

I then asked Mr Warren to go and see what was the matter. He first started out partly dressed, but decided to dress fully before going out, after doing which he went to one of the corridors and returned in a very few minutes with a piece of ice, saying it had been handed him as a souvenir.

By that time, I had dressed and had laid out the lifebelts but Mr Warren said there was absolutely no danger and that with her watertight compartments the vessel could not possibly sink and that in all probability the only effect of the accident would be the delaying of our arrival in New York three or four days.

We felt, however, too restless to remain in our room, so went out in the corridor again and talked with both the employees of the vessel and passengers. The general opinion prevailing was
that there was no danger except for the expression on the part of one man who stated that the water was coming in below forward.

Following this, we then went to our rooms, put on all our heavy wraps and went to the foot of the grand staircase on D deck, again interviewing passengers and crew as to the danger. While standing there one of the designers of the vessel rushed by, going up the stairs. He was asked if there was any danger but made no reply.

But a passenger who was afterwards saved told me that his face had on it a look of terror. Immediately after this the report became general that water was in the squash courts, which were on the deck below where we were standing, and that the baggage had already been submerged. Just at this point a steward passed, ordering all to don life belts and warm clothing and go to the boat deck at once, saying that this move was simply a precautionary measure.

According to my impression, the time was about 45 minutes after the accident. We went back to our room for a third time, seized the life belts and hastened to a point two decks above, where an officer assisted in adjusting our life belts.

We saw in front of the purser's office ship's papers and valuables laid out, and I asked if we could take anything with us, but was told not.

Continuing up to the boat deck we tried to get out to the port side, but we were unable to open the door. Noticing the starboard door standing open we went out that way. The boat deck was the top deck of the vessel, uncovered and only a few houses on it, such as contained the gymnasium.

At the time we reached this deck there were very few passengers there, apparently, but it was dark and we could not estimate the number. There was a deafening roar of escaping steam, of which we had not been conscious while inside.

The only people we remembered seeing, except a young woman by the name of Miss Ostby, who had become separated from her father and was with us, were Mr Astor, his wife and
servants, who were standing near one of the boats which was being cleared preparatory to being lowered. The Astors did not get into this boat. They all went back inside and I saw nothing of them again until Mrs Astor was taken onto the
Carpathia
.

We discovered that the boat next to the one the Astors' boat had been near had been lowered to the level of the deck, so we went towards it and were told by the officer to get in. I supposed Mr Warren had followed, but saw when I turned that he was standing back assisting the women.

People came in so rapidly in the darkness that it was impossible to distinguish them, and while I did not see him again, I thought that he also was in, as there seemed to be still room for more when the boat was lowered.

There were, according to my recollections, either 35 or 36 people in the boat, and I was not aware that Mr Warren was not with us until we were afloat and his name was called with no response.

(
Portland Oregonian
, 27 April 1912)

At that time my husband and I were walking up and down the promenade deck, which as I recollect it, was the deck below the hurricane deck, and it was while we were walking up and down this deck that we first noticed these seamen taking the temperature of the water. My husband was a sailor all his lifetime, and he told me all about it, and it was from that that I knew what they were doing. I could see what they were doing.

My husband retired at about nine o'clock that evening, and I retired about 10.30. Elmer Taylor, one of the passengers who went over with us on the steamer, told me afterwards, when we were on the
Carpathia
, that at the time I retired that night he noticed the boat was going full speed. I had not retired long when I was suddenly awakened by the thumping of the boat. The engines stopped suddenly. This was about 11.30. Captain Crosby got up, dressed, and went out. He came back again and said to me, ‘You will lie there and drown,' and went out again. He said to my daughter: ‘The boat is badly damaged, but I think the watertight compartments will hold her up.'

I then got up and dressed, and my daughter dressed, and followed my husband on deck. When she got up on deck, the officer told her to go back and get on her life preserver and come back on deck as soon as possible. She reported that to me, and we both went out on deck where the officer told us to come. I think it was the first or second boat that we got into. I do not recollect other boats being lowered at that time. This was on the left-hand side where the officer told us to come, and it was the deck above the one on which our state rooms were located: our state rooms were located on the B deck, and we went to the A deck where the officer and lifeboat were.

(US Inquiry, 17 May 1912)

The voyage from Queenstown was quiet and successful. We had met with very fine weather. The sea was calm and the wind was westerly to south-westerly the whole way. The temperature was very cold, particularly on the last day. In fact, after dinner on Sunday evening it was almost too cold to be on the deck at all. I had been in my berth for about ten minutes when at about 11.40 p.m. I felt a slight jar. Then soon afterwards there was
a second shock, but it was not sufficiently large to cause any anxiety to anyone however nervous they may have been. The engines, however, stopped immediately afterwards. At first I thought that the ship had lost a propeller. I went up on deck in my dressing gown, and found only a few people there, who had come up in the same way to inquire why we had stopped, but there was no sort of anxiety in the mind of anyone. We saw through the smoking-room window that a game of cards was going on and I went in to ask if the players knew anything. They had noticed the jar a little more and looking through the window had seen a huge iceberg go by close to the side of the boat. They thought we had just grazed it with a glancing blow, and the engines had been stopped to see if any damage had been done.

None of us, of course, had any conception that she had been pierced below by part of the submerged iceberg. The game of cards was resumed and, without any thought of disaster, I retired to my cabin to read until we went on again. I never saw any of the players or the onlookers again.

A little later, hearing people going upstairs, I went out again and found that everybody wanted to know why the engines had stopped. No doubt many of them had been awakened from their sleep by the sudden stopping of a vibration to which they had become accustomed during the four days we had been on board. Naturally, with such powerful engines as the
Titanic
carried, the vibration was very noticeable all the time, and the sudden stopping had something of the same effect as the stopping of a loud-ticking grandfather's clock in a room. On going on deck again I saw that there was an undoubted list downward from stern to bow, but knowing of what had happened concluded some of the front compartments had filled and weighed her down. I went down again to put on warmer clothing, and as I dressed heard an order shouted: ‘All passengers on deck with life belts on.' We walked slowly up with them tied on over our clothing, but even then presumed this was a wise precaution the captain was taking,
and that we should return in a short time and retire to bed. There was a total absence of any panic or any expressions of alarm, and I suppose this can be accounted for by the exceedingly calm night and the absence of any signs of the accident.

The ship was absolutely still and except for a gentle tilt downward, which I do not think one person in ten would have noticed at that time, no signs of the approaching disaster were visible. She lay just as if she were waiting the order to go again when some trifling matter had been adjusted. But in a few moments we saw the covers lifted from the boats and the crews allotted to them standing by and curling up the ropes which were to lower them by the pulley blocks into the water.

We then began to realize it was more serious than had been supposed, and my first thought was to go down and get more clothing and some money, but seeing people pouring up the stairs decided it was better to cause no confusion to people coming up by doing so.

Presently we heard the order: ‘All men stand back away from the boats and all ladies retire to next deck below' – the smoking deck or B deck. The men all stood away and remained in absolute silence, leaning against the end railings of the deck or pacing slowly up and down.

The boats were swung out and lowered from A deck. When they were to the level of B deck, where all the ladies were collected, the ladies got in quietly, with the exception of some who refused to leave their husbands. In some cases they were torn from them and pushed into the boats, but in many instances they were allowed to remain because there was no one to insist they should go.

Looking over the side, one saw boats from aft already in the water, slipping quietly away into the darkness, and presently the boats near to me were lowered and with much creaking as the new ropes slipped through the pulley blocks down the ninety feet which separated them from the water. An officer in uniform came up as one boat went down and shouted: ‘When you are
afloat, row round to the companion ladder and stand by with the other boats for orders.'

‘Aye, aye, sir,' came up the reply, but I do not think any boat was able to obey the order. When they were afloat and had the oars at work the condition of the rapidly settling boat was so much more of a sight for alarm for those in the boats than those on board that in common prudence the sailors saw they could do nothing but row from the sinking ship to save at any rate some lives. They no doubt anticipated that suction from such an enormous vessel would be more than usually dangerous to a crowded boat mostly filled with women.

(
New York World
, 19 April 1912)

In the elegantly furnished drawing room, no premonitory shadow of death was present to cast cold fear over the gaiety of the evening. It was a brilliant scene; women beautifully gowned, laughing and talking – the odour of flowers. Why, it was just like being at some beautiful summer resort.

All that afternoon and in the evening, everybody was discussing the probability of arriving in New York on Wednesday. It was regarded as certain that the
Titanic
would make her trip in record time. We were not afraid of going too fast. We only knew of the speed by looking at the indicator. The sea was so calm, and the motion of the boat so slight that it was hardly noticeable.

The night was beautiful. The sea was placid and wonderful to look upon. Countless stars were reflected in all their glory in watery depths which gave no hint of the treachery lurking in them. Phosphorus gleamed upon the surface of the sea and reflected back its radiance from giant icebergs which were scattered over the face of the waters. There was not the slightest thought of danger in the minds of those who sat around the
tables in the luxurious dining saloon of the
Titanic
. It was a brilliant crowd. Jewels flashed from the gowns of the women. And, oh, the dear women, how fondly they wore their latest Parisian gowns! It was the first time that most of them had an opportunity to display their newly acquired finery. The soft, sweet odour of rare flowers pervaded the atmosphere. I remember at our table there was a great bunch of American beauty roses. The orchestra played popular music. It was a buoyant, oh, such a jolly crowd. It was a rare gathering of beautiful women and splendid men.

There was that atmosphere of fellowship and delightful sociability which makes dinner on the Sabbath on board ship a delightful occasion. I thought, as I glanced over the saloon, that it would be hard to find gathered in one place a crowd which would better typify the highest type of American manhood and womankind.

I remember Jacques and Mr Harris discussing at our table the latest plays on the American stage. Everybody was so merry. We were all filled with the joy of living. We sat over dinner late that night.

I remember we discussed among ourselves a man sitting at a table across the cabin who was suspected of cheating at cards the night before. Card-playing had been permitted on the boat for the first time. The men warned one another against this man, who they said was a professional gambler, who made a practice of fleecing ocean travellers. The men were sure that he had cheated – so sure, in fact, that they had agreed to keep him at a safe distance in the future. He sat in that great dining room, with a cold-blooded smile playing over his features as he gazed over the crowd. It struck me as the one discordant and harsh note in the jollity.

It was suggested that we take a bit of fresh air after dinner and before retiring many of the passengers ventured out on the deck. I stepped out into the open to get one breath of fresh air, as I told Jacques, and to look upon the night before I retired. There was a death chill in the air which sent a shudder through me and caused me to hurry back into the cheer and warmth of the
cabin. The terrible chillness affected all alike and a number of the men commented that we must be in the vicinity of icebergs. No one had the slightest fear, however; for Mr Andrews, who had some part in the construction of the vessel (he called it his baby), had laughingly assured us that at last man had constructed an unsinkable craft.

Before retiring, my husband complained of a slight headache. We had both gone to our state room. Nearly everyone on board had retired except the men who chatted over their cigars in the magnificent lounging room. There was the stillness which only comes with the sea. A faint tremor of the boat was the only thing which served to remind one that he was on the sea. Apart from this, one might well have imagined himself to be in one of the magnificent hotels of New York City.

(
Boston Sunday Post
, 21 April 1912)