The Loss of the S.S. Titanic - Lawrence Beesley (e reader books TXT) 📗

class="calibre1">of her anatomy—the bilge. [Footnote: See Figure 4, page 50.] The most

authentic accounts say that the wound began at about the location of

the foremast and extended far back to the stern, the brunt of the blow

being taken by the forward plates, which were either punctured through

both bottoms directly by the blow, or through one skin only, and as

this was torn away it ripped out some of the inner plates. The fact

that she went down by the head shows that probably only the forward

plates were doubly punctured, the stern ones being cut open through

the outer skin only. After the collision, Murdock had at once reversed

the engines and brought the ship to a standstill, but the iceberg had

floated away astern. The shock, though little felt by the enormous

mass of the ship, was sufficient to dislodge a large quantity of ice

from the berg: the forecastle deck was found to be covered with pieces

of ice.

 

Feeling the shock, Captain Smith rushed out of his cabin to the

bridge, and in reply to his anxious enquiry was told by Murdock that

ice had been struck and the emergency doors instantly closed. The

officers roused by the collision went on deck: some to the bridge;

others, while hearing nothing of the extent of the damage, saw no

necessity for doing so. Captain Smith at once sent the carpenter below

to sound the ship, and Fourth Officer Boxhall to the steerage to

report damage. The latter found there a very dangerous condition of

things and reported to Captain Smith, who then sent him to the

mail-room; and here again, it was easy to see, matters looked very

serious. Mail-bags were floating about and the water rising rapidly.

All this was reported to the captain, who ordered the lifeboats to be

got ready at once. Mr. Boxhall went to the chartroom to work out the

ship’s position, which he then handed to the Marconi operators for

transmission to any ship near enough to help in the work of rescue.

 

Reports of the damage done were by this time coming to the captain

from many quarters, from the chief engineer, from the designer,—Mr.

Andrews,—and in a dramatic way from the sudden appearance on deck of

a swarm of stokers who had rushed up from below as the water poured

into the boiler-rooms and coal-bunkers: they were immediately ordered

down below to duty again. Realizing the urgent heed of help, he went

personally to the Marconi room and gave orders to the operators to get

into touch with all the ships they could and to tell them to come

quickly. The assistant operator Bride had been asleep, and knew of the

damage only when Phillips, in charge of the Marconi room, told him ice

had been encountered. They started to send out the well-known “C.Q.D.”

message,—which interpreted means: C.Q. “all stations attend,” and D,

“distress,” the position of the vessel in latitude and longitude

following. Later, they sent out “S.O.S.,” an arbitrary message agreed

upon as an international code-signal.

 

Soon after the vessel struck, Mr. Ismay had learnt of the nature of

the accident from the captain and chief engineer, and after dressing

and going on deck had spoken to some of the officers not yet

thoroughly acquainted with the grave injury done to the vessel. By

this time all those in any way connected with the management and

navigation must have known the importance of making use of all the

ways of safety known to them—and that without any delay. That they

thought at first that the Titanic would sink as soon as she did is

doubtful; but probably as the reports came in they knew that her

ultimate loss in a few hours was a likely contingency. On the other

hand, there is evidence that some of the officers in charge of boats

quite expected the embarkation was a precautionary measure and they

would all return after daylight. Certainly the first information that

ice had been struck conveyed to those in charge no sense of the

gravity of the circumstances: one officer even retired to his cabin

and another advised a steward to go back to his berth as there was no

danger.

 

And so the order was sent round, “All passengers on deck with

lifebelts on”; and in obedience to this a crowd of hastily dressed or

partially dressed people began to assemble on the decks belonging to

their respective classes (except the steerage passengers who were

allowed access to other decks), tying on lifebelts over their

clothing. In some parts of the ship women were separated from the men

and assembled together near the boats, in others men and women mingled

freely together, husbands helping their own wives and families and

then other women and children into the boats. The officers spread

themselves about the decks, superintending the work of lowering and

loading the boats, and in three cases were ordered by their superior

officers to take charge of them. At this stage great difficulty was

experienced in getting women to leave the ship, especially where the

order was so rigorously enforced, “Women and children only.” Women in

many cases refused to leave their husbands, and were actually forcibly

lifted up and dropped in the boats. They argued with the officers,

demanding reasons, and in some cases even when induced to get in were

disposed to think the whole thing a joke, or a precaution which it

seemed to them rather foolish to take. In this they were encouraged by

the men left behind, who, in the same condition of ignorance, said

good-bye to their friends as they went down, adding that they would

see them again at breakfast-time. To illustrate further how little

danger was apprehended—when it was discovered on the first-class deck

that the forward lower deck was covered with small ice, snowballing

matches were arranged for the following morning, and some passengers

even went down to the deck and brought back small pieces of ice which

were handed round.

 

Below decks too was additional evidence that no one thought of

immediate danger. Two ladies walking along one of the corridors came

across a group of people gathered round a door which they were trying

vainly to open, and on the other side of which a man was demanding in

loud terms to be let out. Either his door was locked and the key not

to be found, or the collision had jammed the lock and prevented the

key from turning. The ladies thought he must be afflicted in some way

to make such a noise, but one of the men was assuring him that in no

circumstances should he be left, and that his (the bystander’s) son

would be along soon and would smash down his door if it was not opened

in the mean time. “He has a stronger arm than I have,” he added. The

son arrived presently and proceeded to make short work of the door: it

was smashed in and the inmate released, to his great satisfaction and

with many expressions of gratitude to his rescuer. But one of the head

stewards who came up at this juncture was so incensed at the damage

done to the property of his company, and so little aware of the

infinitely greater damage done the ship, that he warned the man who

had released the prisoner that he would be arrested on arrival in New

York.

 

It must be borne in mind that no general warning had been issued to

passengers: here and there were experienced travellers to whom

collision with an iceberg was sufficient to cause them to make every

preparation for leaving the ship, but the great majority were never

enlightened as to the amount of damage done, or even as to what had

happened. We knew in a vague way that we had collided with an iceberg,

but there our knowledge ended, and most of us drew no deductions from

that fact alone. Another factor that prevented some from taking to the

boats was the drop to the water below and the journey into the unknown

sea: certainly it looked a tremendous way down in the darkness, the

sea and the night both seemed very cold and lonely; and here was the

ship, so firm and well lighted and warm.

 

But perhaps what made so many people declare their decision to remain

was their strong belief in the theory of the Titanic’s unsinkable

construction. Again and again was it repeated, “This ship cannot sink;

it is only a question of waiting until another ship comes up and takes

us off.” Husbands expected to follow their wives and join them either

in New York or by transfer in mid-ocean from steamer to steamer. Many

passengers relate that they were told by officers that the ship was a

lifeboat and could not go down; one lady affirms that the captain told

her the Titanic could not sink for two or three days; no doubt this

was immediately after the collision.

 

It is not any wonder, then, that many elected to remain, deliberately

choosing the deck of the Titanic to a place in a lifeboat. And yet the

boats had to go down, and so at first they went half-full: this is the

real explanation of why they were not as fully loaded as the later

ones. It is important then to consider the question how far the

captain was justified in withholding all the knowledge he had from

every passenger. From one point of view he should have said to them,

“This ship will sink in a few hours: there are the boats, and only

women and children can go to them.” But had he the authority to

enforce such an order? There are such things as panics and rushes

which get beyond the control of a handful of officers, even if armed,

and where even the bravest of men get swept off their feet—mentally

as well as physically.

 

On the other hand, if he decided to withhold all definite knowledge of

danger from all passengers and at the same time persuade—and if it

was not sufficient, compel—women and children to take to the boats,

it might result in their all being saved. He could not foresee the

tenacity of their faith in the boat: there is ample evidence that he

left the bridge when the ship had come to rest and went among

passengers urging them to get into the boat and rigorously excluding

all but women and children. Some would not go. Officer Lowe testified

that he shouted, “Who’s next for the boat?” and could get no replies.

The boats even were sent away half-loaded,—although the fear of their

buckling in the middle was responsible as well for this,—but the

captain with the few boats at his disposal could hardly do more than

persuade and advise in the terrible circumstances in which he was

placed.

 

How appalling to think that with a few more boats—and the ship was

provided with that particular kind of davit that would launch more

boats—there would have been no decision of that kind to make! It

could have been stated plainly: “This ship will sink in a few hours:

there is room in the boats for all passengers, beginning with women

and children.”

 

Poor Captain Smith! I care not whether the responsibility for such

speed in iceberg regions will rest on his shoulders or not: no man

ever had to make such a choice as he had that night, and it seems

difficult to see how he can be blamed for withholding from passengers

such information as he had of the danger that was imminent.

 

When one reads in the Press that lifeboats arrived at the Carpathia

half full, it seems at first sight a dreadful thing that this should

have been allowed to happen; but it is so