Read Voices from the Titanic Online
Authors: Geoff Tibballs
Voices from the Titanic (49 page)
He was again warned off to man the boat, and this time he took his place. Eventually there were sixty-eight souls on board this boat. There were no sailors. So far as he could see there was a deal of confusion, and scores who had first chance to get into the boats preferred to remain on the ship.
He took charge of the boat, in which there were twenty-two women and five children (one a Dago â Italian â woman and child), and one or two stewards. He was ordered to stand by a time, and an officer shouted: âAre there any more women to go?'
There was no answer to this. The women appealed to refused to leave their husbands and relatives. Mr Dymond sat anxiously in the boat awaiting orders, and when no women came forward to take their places the officer shouted: âVery well, fill up with passengers and crew.' Altogether he had sixty-eight souls in his boat and, except for the women and children, they were nearly all stewards.
He had not got more than 400 yards from the
Titanic
when he heard the first explosion. This happened at a quarter to two o'clock in the morning. The great vessel then dipped at the head and remained in that position for a considerable time. He thought it was nearly half an hour. Then suddenly there was another great explosion, and the bow gave a sort of jump and then seemed to wrench away from the middle portion. A few seconds later the whole fabric dived head foremost and was gone, leaving hundreds of souls floating on the water. From the time of striking to the end was not more than two hours and a half, if so long.
His boat was but slightly affected by the suction of the sinking leviathan. He had a tank of biscuits on board, and these were distributed to the children, and anyone else who wanted them, but most of them were too excited to think about eating. It was bitterly cold, but fortunately there was no wind, and the sea was smooth. The women and children lay huddled together for warmth, and the men took it in turns to row the boat. It was six hours before they were picked up, by which time many of them were in a prostrate condition. Kind attention on board the
Carpathia
soon brought them round, but even then most of them seemed to be unable to realize the full character of the experience that had befallen them.
Thomas Patrick Dillon told our representative that he was the last to leave the ship and be saved. He also is a fireman, and lives at 12, Oriental Terrace, Southampton. He remained down in the stokehold until the water was awash with his knees. He had been assured that the vessel was unsinkable, and did not trouble very much at the time.
When he came on deck the bow of the
Titanic
was pointing downwards as though it had been broken off from the main part of the bulk, 12 or 14 feet in from the cutwater. He stood on the poop which was at a slope of about 60 degrees, and was in time to see a second explosion. The bow seemed to bob up and then break down off like a piece of carrot.
Musicians had been playing on the poop, but they and the captain had slid off into the sea, which was strewn with bodies. There was one musician left. He was a violinist, and was playing the air of the hymn: âNearer, My God, to Thee.'
Mr Dillon said the notes of this music were the last thing he heard before he went off the poop and felt himself going into the icy water headlong, with the engines and machinery buzzing in his ears. He was drawn down, he should think, about a couple of fathoms. Of that, however, he had no positive knowledge.
The next thing he could remember was waking up in one of the boats in terrible pain. The cold had numbed his limbs, and he had severe cramp in his stomach. He found that he was in No. 4 boat.
Frederick Harris, 57, Melville Road, Mill Lane, Gosport, had also a graphic story to tell. When the last moment came, and it was found that all the boats were gone and the vessel was going to sink, there was wild confusion. Deck chairs, and anything that would float were seized as the men jumped overboard.
He saw the captain jump into the water and grasp a child, which he placed on one of the rafts, of which there were all too few. He did not see the captain afterwards. He thought the First Officer, Mr Murdoch, shot himself. He himself got on to a small raft, but was afterwards taken into a boat. He was half-dead with the cold.
William Nutbean, 5 Horsman's Buildings, High Street, Southampton, said he was ordered away in No. 4 boat. They stood off some distance whilst the other boats were loading. At first there was no hurry, the difficulty being to get people to enter the boats. The women especially were courageous. They preferred to remain with their husbands when the latter were ordered to stand back. This caused some delay.
So far as he could remember, the first explosion took place about a quarter to two, and the second almost a quarter past two, the vessel disappearing within two hours of first striking. It seemed that her plates were ripped open from a dozen feet in from the bow to the second funnel. That accounted for the bow breaking off first and the ship making her final dip as described.
Chairs, small rafts, and other gear were floating about amongst a crowd of agonized strugglers in the water. The bitter cold soon put an end to most of these battles. His boat put back and picked up several persons, but the majority of the people they found floating were dead. It was an awesome sight, and one he had dreamed about ever since. The boat looked so small, in the great expanse of dark grey water, relieved here and there by clumps of ice, which only served to make sea and sky appear greyer.
He had many sufferers in his boat, and others were heartbroken at the loss of relatives and friends. The long, dreary hours spun out without much thought of eating and drinking until they were mercifully picked up by the liner.
A graphic description was given by a young fellow who served on the
Titanic
as a third-class steward.
I was asleep when the collision occurred, he observed, and the impact was not sufficient to disturb me. The first moment I knew anything was wrong was when I and others were ordered to man the boat-deck by the boats with our lifebelts on. I thought an emergency drill was being held, but, on reaching the deck, was told the ship had struck an iceberg.
The officers were endeavouring to get the women and children who were quartered aft into the boats, but they experienced some little difficulty at first, because a number of foreigners attempted to rush into the boats. They were soon forced back, however. These men were arrant cowards. When I started to go on deck I saw two of them crying bitterly in the companion-way.
We filled the boats with women and children, and got them away safely. I stayed on deck, not thinking the ship was going down, but when she gradually became submerged, and the water came up over the boat deck and the bows, I knew there was no hope, so jumped overboard. I swam about for four or five minutes, till I reached an upturned collapsible boat, to which twenty-seven others were clinging, including a saloon passenger and two third-class passengers (an Irishman and a Swede) and the Second Officer. We clung to this boat for five hours until picked up by the
Carpathia
.
I saw the
Titanic
go down. Two of her funnels fell off and after an explosion, which I distinctly heard, being only a short distance away at the time, she smashed in the middle. Her bows went down, and then her stern, which was almost upright when it sank. Fortunately there was very little suction; had there been as much as I had anticipated, none of us would have been saved. As it was, the Second Officer fell off the boat to which we clung, and was not seen afterwards.
Asked how long it took him to get over the shock of his experience, the steward said that it was hardly possible for him yet to realize what had really happened. âI cannot fully comprehend that so many of my comrades of the ship have been drowned,' he added.
The band on the
Titanic
, composed of six Englishmen, a German, and a Frenchman, displayed conspicuous bravery. In order to prevent a panic Capt. Smith instructed them to play. As the musicians ran after their instruments they were laughed at by several of the crew, who did not realize how serious matters were; but they began to render hymn tunes, and continued to do so to the last. While playing âNearer, My God, to Thee', the water was washing over their feet, and in a very short time they disappeared beneath the waves.
Several of the crew testified to this yesterday, and spoke in highest commendation of the bandsmen.
I shall never forget hearing the strains of that beautiful hymn as I was leaving the sinking ship, one observed. It was always a favourite hymn of mine, but at such a time, and under such tragic circumstances, it had for me a solemnity too deep for words. No praise could be sufficient for those courageous musicians whom we left behind; they were heroes to a man.
But the contrast was too awful to be described. At one moment it was music, at the next moanings and groanings of the ill-fated men who were left behind as they struggled in the water. We could not see them, neither were we able to render any assistance, for our boat was full; but for along while they harrowed our feelings as, in their agony, they gave full vent to their suffering. I shall never forget that night as long as I live.
Another seaman intimated that he was asleep in his bunk at the time of the collision. He and some of his comrades went on deck and then returned to their bunks, one of them remarking: âWe have glanced an iceberg. Let us turn in again.' A quarter of an hour later they were ordered on deck with their lifebelts on.
The captain would not allow me on the boat deck for some time, he proceeded, but after a while he told me to assist in launching the boats. The women and children were put in first.
After the last boat had gone I was standing on the deck and just before the ship went down the captain shouted, âEveryone for himself.' An Italian woman with two children was standing near me. She gave me one of the babies and kept the other herself. We both jumped into the sea. No small boats could be seen, and the last I saw of those on the liner was a crowd standing on the poop, which was rising.
The intensely cold water killed the baby in my arms and I let it go. I swam about for some minutes, and then caught hold of some wreckage. After about an hour I saw the upturned boat to which the Second Officer and others were clinging. I joined them. The Second Officer said, âNow all keep calm, and we shall be picked up.'
This proved to be true, for we were rescued by a boat which was already pretty full.
The seaman added that he saw the Chief Officer shoot at two Italians who were pushing women aside on the steamer in a frantic endeavour to reach the lifeboats. As the first shot fired above their heads did not serve as a warning, the officer shot one of them.
The only one of twenty-six greasers saved jumped overboard shortly before the liner disappeared, and was picked up by one of the small boats. He spoke in high terms of the gallantry of the engineers, and stated that the
Titanic
had been steaming very smoothly, thus making the voyage for the passengers thoroughly enjoyable.
When the accident happened a fireman with one or two others were on deck procuring some refreshment. They should have been relieved in about ten minutes. The starboard deck was covered with ice, and one of his comrades expressed the opinion that it was âpretty serious, Bill!' An officer came along and ordered them to go below to their work, but they stopped where they were, and were shortly afterwards mistaken for the relief watch, which, for some reason or another, did not turn up as usual. The men were accordingly told to help with the boats. He was sitting in one of the boats attending to the gear when he felt somebody underneath the thwarts, and on making a search found two Chinamen concealed.
This man did not leave in a boat, but swam towards an upturned collapsible.
I was just a short distance from the ship, and I knew that Captain Smith could have saved himself if he liked. He could have jumped into the water and been rescued as others were, but up to the last he walked up and down the deck, giving through a megaphone to those trying to save their lives.
Another fireman assisted to free a collapsible boat in the officers' quarters, and got it over the side just in time. It overturned, but he clung to it, and one of the liner's funnels falling into the water created a swell which carried the boat away from the ship. He was so affected by the cold water that he had to receive attention in a New York hospital.
Another version was given by a second-class steward of the conduct of Mr Lowe, the Fifth Officer. He stood on the bulkhead of the top deck and heard Mr Murdoch giving directions as to lowering the boats. The steward was called upon to assist, after which he was lowered into a boat with Mr Lowe in charge. When the boat was within four feet of the water there was not sufficient rope to lower her further, so that she had to be dropped into the water. The steward was jerked overboard, picked up by another boat, and transferred to his original position. They rowed away, and Mr Lowe, who had done more than anyone else, this steward said, to keep people afloat, got the other lifeboats which had preceded his together, and by transferring passengers practically emptied one boat, which was manned by seven men, including the speaker.
They proceeded to row towards the wreck with the object of saving as many lives as possible. In this they were successful. On getting within a hundred yards of her the liner sank. Mr Lowe said, âWell, boys, I am prepared to row nearer and take my chance. I don't think there's any fear of being sucked down. Are the rest prepared to go? At the same time it practically means certain death because if we go among all these people we shall probably be lost.'
They proceeded to draw nearer, but those in the boat demurred. They spent all night rowing round, however, and picked up several more people.
One of these was a stalwart German. They tried several times to get him into the boat, but failed; and then Mr Lowe expressed the opinion that the cause was due to the poor man's legs being doubled up by the cold. The steward went into the water to try and straighten the limbs, and after many difficulties the German was hauled into the frail craft only to die within five minutes.