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

and

strike on two microphones hanging in the tank. These microphones

transmit the sound along wires to the chart room, where telephones

convey the message to the officer on duty.

 

There are two of these tanks or “receivers” fitted against the ship’s

side, one on the port and one on the starboard side, near the bows,

and as far down below the water level as is possible. The direction of

sounds coming to the microphones hanging in these tanks can be

estimated by switching alternately to the port and starboard tanks. If

the sound is of greater intensity on the port side, then the bell

signalling is off the port bows; and similarly on the starboard side.

 

The ship is turned towards the sound until the same volume of sound is

heard from both receivers, when the bell is known to be dead ahead. So

accurate is this in practice that a trained operator can steer his

ship in the densest fog directly to a lightship or any other point

where a submarine bell is sending its warning beneath the sea. It must

be repeated that the medium in which these signals are transmitted is

a constant one, not subject to any of the limitations and variations

imposed on the atmosphere and the ether as media for the transmission

of light, blasts of a foghorn, and wireless vibrations. At present the

chief use of submarine signalling is from the shore or a lightship to

ships at sea, and not from ship to ship or from ship to the shore: in

other words ships carry only receiving apparatus, and lighthouses and

lightships use only signalling apparatus. Some of the lighthouses and

lightships on our coasts already have these submarine bells in

addition to their lights, and in bad weather the bells send out their

messages to warn ships of their proximity to a danger point. This

invention enables ships to pick up the sound of bell after bell on a

coast and run along it in the densest fog almost as well as in

daylight; passenger steamers coming into port do not have to wander

about in the fog, groping their way blindly into harbour. By having a

code of rings, and judging by the intensity of the sound, it is

possible to tell almost exactly where a ship is in relation to the

coast or to some lightship. The British Admiralty report in 1906 said:

“If the lightships round the coast were fitted with submarine bells,

it would be possible for ships fitted with receiving apparatus to

navigate in fog with almost as great certainty as in clear weather.”

And the following remark of a captain engaged in coast service is

instructive. He had been asked to cut down expenses by omitting the

submarine signalling apparatus, but replied: “I would rather take out

the wireless. That only enables me to tell other people where I am.

The submarine signal enables me to find out where I am myself.”

 

The range of the apparatus is not so wide as that of wireless

telegraphy, varying from 10 to 15 miles for a large ship (although

instances of 20 to 30 are on record), and from 3 to 8 miles for a

small ship.

 

At present the receiving apparatus is fixed on only some 650 steamers

of the merchant marine, these being mostly the first-class passenger

liners. There is no question that it should be installed, along with

wireless apparatus, on every ship of over 1000 tons gross tonnage.

Equally important is the provision of signalling apparatus on board

ships: it is obviously just as necessary to transmit a signal as to

receive one; but at present the sending of signals from ships has not

been perfected. The invention of signal-transmitting apparatus to be

used while the ship is under way is as yet in the experimental stage;

but while she is at rest a bell similar to those used by lighthouses

can be sunk over her side and rung by hand with exactly the same

effect. But liners are not provided with them (they cost only 60 Pounds!).

As mentioned before, with another 60 Pounds spent on the Republic’s

equipment, the Baltic could have picked up her bell and steered direct

to her—just as they both heard the bell of Nantucket Lightship.

Again, if the Titanic had been provided with a bell and the

Californian with receiving apparatus,—neither of them was,—the

officer on the bridge could have heard the signals from the telephones

near.

 

A smaller size for use in lifeboats is provided, and would be heard by

receiving apparatus for approximately five miles. If we had hung one

of these bells over the side of the lifeboats afloat that night we

should have been free from the anxiety of being run down as we lay

across the Carpathia’s path, without a light. Or if we had gone adrift

in a dense fog and wandered miles apart from each other on the sea (as

we inevitably should have done), the Carpathia could still have picked

up each boat individually by means of the bell signal.

 

In those ships fitted with receiving apparatus, at least one officer

is obliged to understand the working of the apparatus: a very wise

precaution, and, as suggested above, one that should be taken with

respect to wireless apparatus also.

 

It was a very great pleasure to me to see all this apparatus in

manufacture and in use at one of the principal submarine signalling

works in America and to hear some of the remarkable stories of its

value in actual practice. I was struck by the aptness of the motto

adopted by them—“De profundis clamavi”—in relation to the Titanic’s

end and the calls of our passengers from the sea when she sank. “Out

of the deep have I called unto Thee” is indeed a suitable motto for

those who are doing all they can to prevent such calls arising from

their fellow men and women “out of the deep.”

 

Fixing of steamship routes

 

The “lanes” along which the liners travel are fixed by agreement among

the steamship companies in consultation with the Hydrographic

departments of the different countries. These routes are arranged so

that east-bound steamers are always a number of miles away from those

going west, and thus the danger of collision between east and

west-bound vessels is entirely eliminated. The “lanes” can be moved

farther south if icebergs threaten, and north again when the danger is

removed. Of course the farther south they are placed, the longer the

journey to be made, and the longer the time spent on board, with

consequent grumbling by some passengers. For example, the lanes since

the disaster to the Titanic have been moved one hundred miles farther

south, which means one hundred and eighty miles longer journey, taking

eight hours.

 

The only real precaution against colliding with icebergs is to go

south of the place where they are likely to be: there is no other way.

 

Lifeboats

 

The provision was of course woefully inadequate. The only humane plan

is to have a numbered seat in a boat assigned to each passenger and

member of the crew. It would seem well to have this number pointed out

at the time of booking a berth, and to have a plan in each cabin

showing where the boat is and how to get to it the most direct way—a

most important consideration with a ship like the Titanic with over

two miles of deck space. Boat-drills of the passengers and crew of

each boat should be held, under compulsion, as soon as possible after

leaving port. I asked an officer as to the possibility of having such

a drill immediately after the gangways are withdrawn and before the

tugs are allowed to haul the ship out of dock, but he says the

difficulties are almost insuperable at such a time. If so, the drill

should be conducted in sections as soon as possible after sailing, and

should be conducted in a thorough manner. Children in school are

called upon suddenly to go through fire-drill, and there is no reason

why passengers on board ship should not be similarly trained. So much

depends on order and readiness in time of danger. Undoubtedly, the

whole subject of manning, provisioning, loading and lowering of

lifeboats should be in the hands of an expert officer, who should have

no other duties. The modern liner has become far too big to permit the

captain to exercise control over the whole ship, and all vitally

important subdivisions should be controlled by a separate authority.

It seems a piece of bitter irony to remember that on the Titanic a

special chef was engaged at a large salary,—larger perhaps than that

of any officer,—and no boatmaster (or some such officer) was

considered necessary. The general system again—not criminal neglect,

as some hasty criticisms would say, but lack of consideration for our

fellow-man, the placing of luxurious attractions above that kindly

forethought that allows no precaution to be neglected for even the

humblest passenger. But it must not be overlooked that the provision

of sufficient lifeboats on deck is not evidence they will all be

launched easily or all the passengers taken off safely. It must be

remembered that ideal conditions prevailed that night for launching

boats from the decks of the Titanic: there was no list that prevented

the boats getting away, they could be launched on both sides, and when

they were lowered the sea was so calm that they pulled away without

any of the smashing against the side that is possible in rough seas.

Sometimes it would mean that only those boats on the side sheltered

from a heavy sea could ever get away, and this would at once halve the

boat accommodation. And when launched, there would be the danger of

swamping in such a heavy sea. All things considered, lifeboats might

be the poorest sort of safeguard in certain conditions.

 

Life-rafts are said to be much inferior to lifeboats in a rough sea,

and collapsible boats made of canvas and thin wood soon decay under

exposure to weather and are danger-traps at a critical moment.

 

Some of the lifeboats should be provided with motors, to keep the

boats together and to tow if necessary. The launching is an important

matter: the Titanic’s davits worked excellently and no doubt were

largely responsible for all the boats getting away safely: they were

far superior to those on most liners.

 

Pontoons

 

After the sinking of the Bourgogne, when two Americans lost their

lives, a prize of 4000 Pounds was offered by their heirs for the best

lifesaving device applicable to ships at sea. A board sat to consider

the various appliances sent in by competitors, and finally awarded the

prize to an Englishman, whose design provided for a flat structure the

width of the ship, which could be floated off when required and would

accommodate several hundred passengers. It has never been adopted

by any steamship line. Other similar designs are known, by which the

whole of the after deck can be pushed over from the stern by a ratchet

arrangement, with airtanks below to buoy it up: it seems to be a

practical suggestion.

 

One point where the Titanic management failed lamentably was to

provide a properly trained crew to each lifeboat. The rowing was in

most cases execrable. There is no more reason why a steward should be

able to row than a passenger—less so than some of the passengers who

were lost; men of leisure accustomed to all kinds of sport (including

rowing), and in addition probably more fit physically than a steward

to row for hours on the open sea. And if a steward cannot row, he has

no right to be at an oar; so that, under the unwritten rule that

passengers take