Voices from the Carpathia, page 19
Our own doctors did all doctors could do: rest and sleep seemed to be the most desirable thing for those we had taken aboard, and so everything possible was done to induce sleep.
I was astonished and more than thankful and pleased when Doctor McGhee, on Tuesday morning, reported to me all the survivors physically well. The doctor had hardly had a minute to himself – day or night – since we commenced embarking the people. It seemed almost incredible that those hundreds of people who had undergone such trying experiences should not have developed some physical trouble. I knew it meant untiring attention on the part of not only the medical staff but everyone, both our own officers and men, and our passengers also, in attending to the people immediately they arrived, and also the preparations made for them on board.
I hardly think it good taste to attempt to picture the sad, heart-rending appearance of those sorely tried people as it impressed us, but I can say how bravely they bore up under their agonising trouble, and how we one and all felt that we must get them to New York safe and sound and do all we possibly could to keep them from further trouble or anxiety.
About four-thirty Monday afternoon I received a wireless message from the Olympic asking for information. I gave the bare facts and also sent the official messages to the Cunard Company etc. The names of the survivors were then sent, and we continued in until about one o’clock Tuesday morning, when we got out of range.
This was the first opportunity we had had of sending any news of any kind through to shore, as the other steamers we had been in communication with earlier in the day were all too far to the eastward. It was also the last until Wednesday afternoon – and we afterward learned what an awful suspense the world was in during those three days, as we had only been able to send the formal official messages of disaster, with approximate number saved, and the names of the first and second class passengers and crew.
Our wireless instrument was only a short-distance one, limited to one hundred and thirty miles – to about two hundred and twenty under most favourable circumstances; also we only had one operator.
It was most difficult to get the names even, and the continuous strain at the instrument, the conditions under which the operator was working, and the constant interruptions made it anything but a simple matter. I must again refer to the quiet, subdued manner of everyone on board during our return to New York.
We had several hours’ fog on Tuesday morning early, and again it set in thick Wednesday morning and continued foggy, more or less, all the way to New York.
The dismal nerve-racking noise of the whistle blowing every half-minute must have been very distressing to the survivors especially, and one can quite understand their suspense and agony of mind in having gone through such a terrible experience on that fateful night, and then the other terror of the sea-fog coming to augment their mental suffering. We had taken three bodies from the boats, and one man died during the fore-noon of Monday, all four being buried at four in the afternoon, Protestant and Roman Catholic services being held over them according to their religion.
At half-past eight Monday night, in company with the purser and chief steward, I went all round the ship to inspect the arrangements made for everyone, and found all that was possible to be done was either done or being done. All the public rooms were converted into sleeping accommodations. Fortunately, we had an ample supply of blankets and all spare mattresses and pillows were served out, every one having every attention given them that was at our command.
Many of our own stewards were self-appointed watchmen during the night, remaining at their posts in readiness to attend to any one requiring assistance, and to give moral support – to the ladies especially, who always found someone ready to help or to cheer them.
In speaking of the loyalty and cheerful willingness of every member of the crew, officers and men, from the moment I gave the first order to our arrival in New York (and I know for a certainty that the doctor, purser and stewards – even the little bell-boys – had very little rest until the Friday night, that is, the day we left New York again), I must also mention the assistance given by the stewards of the Titanic who were saved; they all turned to and assisted in every way they could.
We heard of many great and noble deeds of self-sacrifice performed by those on the Titanic that night: tales of heroism and bravery of men and women, of men who had everything in this world to live for, men who were sending away in the boats those who were dearest on earth to them, those in the boats leaving on the ship those most dear to them in the whole world. Men who had so much of this world’s honours and riches yet at the great test they showed the world they had still greater gifts – the gift of great and noble self-sacrifice and self-command.
Standing out equal to each or any, and superbly noble, was that of a young girl.
A boat full of women and ready for lowering was found to be too full and the order was given for someone to get out, as it was considered unsafe. A young lady – a girl, really – got up to leave the boat; then some of the others tried to persuade her to remain. ‘No,’ she said, ‘you are married and have families; I’m not, it doesn’t matter about me!’
This girl-woman, in the highest and noblest sense, got out of the boat and returned to the deck of the ship. Those in the boat were saved, the girl on deck went down with the ship. From being in a position to be saved she deliberately returned to the uncertainty, and so gave her life willingly that others might have a better chance of being saved. There were many incidents – almost too numerous to mention – and incidents one does not care to recall; but one case might be cited, perhaps.
During dinner on Sunday evening a wireless message was received by some of our passengers from relatives aboard the Titanic. At four-thirty Monday morning, two of the relatives were brought to the state-room of our passengers, who were then in bed asleep and knew nothing of what was taking place, such was the irony of fate! The surprise – nay, stupefaction – of our passengers so suddenly roused to hear such news can well be imagined.
Wednesday afternoon about one o’clock we were in wireless communication with the U.S.S. Chester, dense fog at the time, and through her sent in the remainder of the names of survivors, with corrections also.
We picked up Fire Island light vessel from its fog-horn about four o’clock Thursday afternoon, after which the weather cleared considerably. About six we stopped off Ambrose Channel lightship and picked up our pilot. It was at this time we got some idea of suspense and excitement in the world. We were met by several powerful tug-boats chartered by the press and full of press men, anxious to get news. Naturally, I did not care to have any of the passengers harassed by reporters seeking information, so I decided not to allow any one on board the Carpathia.
As we were going up Ambrose Channel, the weather changed completely, and a more dramatic ending to a tragic occurrence it would be hard to conceive.
It began to blow hard, rain came down in torrents, and, to complete the finale, we had continuous vivid lightning, and heavy, rolling thunder. This weather continued until our arrival off Cunard dock.
It was astonishing how quiet – apparently stolid – everyone aboard was in their loyalty. Seeing I refused to hold any communication with the press-boats, all the passengers seemed to take the same view, and to all inquiries for news or photographs, or even names, a tense silence was maintained throughout.
Whilst we were stopped off the dock, getting the Titanic’s boats away from the ship, a press man did manage to get on board. It was reported to me and I had him brought on the bridge. I explained my reasons for not allowing any one on board, and that I could not allow the passengers to be interviewed, and put him on his honour not to leave the bridge under certain penalties. I must say he was a gentleman.
What with the wind and rain, a pitch-dark night, lightning and thunder, and the photographers taking flashlight pictures of the ship, and the explosion of the lights, it was a scene never to be effaced from one’s memory. There were dozens of tugs dodging about the ship, and the lowering away of the Titanic’s lifeboats (we could not get into dock until all the Titanic’s boats were away from the ship, as seven of them were suspended in our davits and six were on the forecastle head, and so in the way of working the mooring ropes), and these boats were leaving the ship in the blackness of the night with two of the rescued crew in each boat and some of the Titanic’s officers in charge of them, it brought back to one’s mind the manner in which these same boats were last lowered from that great and magnificent ship never to reach New York.
It did indeed seem a fitting final scene to the most tragic and greatest marine disaster in the history of the sea. At nine-twenty we got into dock and the passengers were now free to land. And so they left us, after being aboard over three and a half days – landed to meet their dear ones and friends, and to feel once more their poignant grief surging uppermost in their minds. As they landed we all felt such a relief as only those experience who have for days been under a great strain – keyed up to the highest pitch of anxiety all the time. With such anxiety for the safety of so many people placed in my care under such heart-rending and tragic circumstances, on their landing I was thankful. With the people landed, the work of the Carpathia was finished, so far as the part we had taken in the catastrophe.
Of all the remarkable incidents in connection with the whole history of the short life of that magnificent creation of man, not the least was the name of that never-to-be-forgotten ship.
Looking in the dictionary one finds there the definition of that ill-fated name, ‘TITANIC: a race of people vainly striving to overcome the forces of nature’. Could anything be more unfortunate or tragic in its significance?56
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MRS J.A. SHUTTLEWORTH
After the rescue, Mrs Shuttleworth wrote the following letter to her friend, Mrs R.B. Rankins:
We went 60 miles north and found the little lifeboats with the people almost frozen in the icy water from 12 o’clock until we reached them at 3 o’clock in the morning.
The Carpathia rescued 650 or 660.
I will never forget the cries and moans of the ones who bade farewell to their husbands and wives and children, who went down with the magnificent steamer … Of course, we gave out all the clothes and everything we had to the people who saved nothing but kimonos and wraps. No stockings, no shoes, no underwear or anything. Almost naked, it is a wonder how they endured the cold, floating around in the ice mountains, waiting hopeless, for some ship to come. When they saw the Carpathia’s lights their prayers went up as a shout.57
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MR SPENCER (CREWMAN)
After the Carpathia arrived in New York, Mr Spencer wrote a letter to his father in Belfast. Spencer began his letter by saying that at about midnight on 14 April the Carpathia received a Marconigram from the Titanic saying that she had struck an iceberg and required assistance because she was sinking fast. The letter continued:
Our captain had an extra watch of firemen on the boilers, and she steamed faster than she ever did before in the direction indicated. We were about sixty miles to the southward, and we had a long way to go. So we got all our boats ready, the baggage ports were all open, and there were small canvas bags ready for lifting people out of the boats by pulleys &c. In fact, we were ready for any rescue emergency. About one o’clock we saw a lot of rockets being fired, and we knew it was the Titanic, but we were a great way off. At last we reached the latitude mentioned and found ourselves surrounded by bergs like cathedrals and churches, so we had to be very careful ourselves. This would be about four o’clock in the morning. We could see nothing of the Titanic, but suddenly we saw a blue light burning, and we knew it must be a boat, so we steamed slowly up to her and found she was one of the Titanic’s boats full of women, which we cleared in a few seconds. It was just break of day, and we saw more boats, and picked up the lot of them, sixteen all told. Two we found afterwards bottom up, and we were told how the great ship went down 35 minutes after striking the berg. Now, then, if the ship had had enough boats, the lot should have been saved, hence the dreadful loss of life. If we had been but a few hours nearer to her in the first place we ourselves might have saved the lot, and never mind about the ship, but we did our best and rescued every living soul left. We served out every comfort to the rescued. I must tell you the survivors acted grandly. There was no panic, but fine discipline. We steamed up to the empty boats, picked 13 up, and got them on board and proceeded to New York, and when we got there I shall never forget the sight. Thousands of tugs full of people came to Sandy Hook to escort us to the dock. The captain allowed no reporters on board, but some got on board one way or the other, and the papers got full of a lot of rot until the right reports were sent in.58
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ERNEST ST CLAIR
In 1980 Mr St Clair, who was a waiter on board the Carpathia, described his vessel’s rescue of the Titanic survivors:
On the night of the 14th of April 1912, I, Ernest St Clair, was a 19 year old member of the crew of the Cunard liner SS Carpathia. We were four days out from New York with a full complement of passengers on a cruise to the sunny Mediterranean. The night was dark, the sea calm and it was very cold, there was ice about. Now this was nearing midnight, I made my way forward to retire. On the midship, on the shelter deck, I was surprised to see Captain, later ‘Sir’, Rostron, the chief engineer and other officers in anxious conference. I learned that our 22 year old Marconi wireless operator, Harold Cottam, by sheer chance, had donned his headphone for a few minutes before turning in for the night, when he heard the ‘CQD’ followed immediately by the ‘SOS’ distress signal emanating from Royal Mail’s steamer Titanic. She was the flagship of the White Star Line on her maiden voyage to New York. She was the largest and fastest ship in the world and reputedly ‘unsinkable’.
In mid-Atlantic, at 20 minutes to twelve midnight, she had crashed into an iceberg. She was sinking fast and calling for help. She went down, to the bottom of the Atlantic, 2 hours and 40 minutes later.
Carpathia changed course. All steam was closed down from pantries, galleys, kitchens, heating apparatus. Below, the stokers worked like demons crowding on all speed. The old ship shook, she had never travelled so fast since the far-off days of her trials, as she raced to the rescue of the Titanic’s survivors.
Men were called for to man the life boats. The crew, of course, volunteered to a man. A list was posted on the main companion way and I was one of those chosen. We carried hundreds of blankets from the store room up to the boat deck. There we broke out the chocks and swung out the life boats, but they were never launched. It would be about 6 o’clock in the morning and in the graying dawn, from afar, we saw the flares of the Titanic’s lifeboats. The light of day grew stronger and the Titanic’s lifeboats made toward us, guided by the rockets Carpathia sent out. We saw then how pitifully few the lifeboats were.
The first lifeboat alongside contained only 13 survivors; an evil omen tragically borne out.
We took 705 survivors aboard Carpathia. 1,503 children, women and men went down with Titanic when she plunged to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean.
The survivors were cared for. The dead were buried with simple, unimpressive, ceremony.
We passed floating deck chairs and other flotsam of wreckage. We passed ‘growlers’, which are minor icebergs, and many ice floes. As we passed over the spot where the Titanic had sunk a short religious service was held. We passed the enormous black-ice iceberg which sealed the Titanic’s doom.
So to New York; which we reached four days later. To the tragic welcome. To the court of enquiry at the dock side. To the snarling of the yellow press at ‘Brute’ Ismay, as they dubbed the unfortunate Bruce Ismay, chairman of the White Star Line, owners of the Titanic. The American souvenir hunters besieged the Carpathia’s crew members when they went ashore. To the dignified and touching tribute of representatives of the survivors of the Titanic to their rescuers: the presentation of medals inscribed ‘For gallant and heroic services to the Captain, Officers and crew of SS Carpathia from the survivors of SS Titanic’.
Such are my recollections of the Titanic disaster, which in my memory occurred only yesterday.59
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LAWRENCE STOUDENMIRE
After the Carpathia’s rescue of the Titanic survivors, Mr Stoudenmire made several brief entries in his diary:
Monday Morning, April 15 – Great excitement on deck ship; had received wireless of wreck of SS Titanic of White Star Line. Put on full steam at 1 a.m. and rushed to scene of disaster arriving about 5 a.m. to pick up survivors. The Titanic had sunk three-quarters of an hour after hitting an iceberg. Two thousand people drowned, the rest picked up by Carpathia. A terrible sight on deck. Women who had lost their husbands and sons and men who had lost everything except a pair of trousers and a shirt they wore.
Breakfast was a scene of confusion. All the survivors seemed stunned. The flags were put half-mast. The rest of the day was taken up hearing different and various stories of the wreck as told by the survivors. Dinner and supper were as usual. Gave up my cabin to two ladies of the survivors and I turned in on deck about 11 o’clock. Heard all the bells strike until 4:30 next morning. Fine day.
Tuesday, April 16 – Turned out at 4:30 o’clock. Breakfast as usual. The only thing to do was stand around and talk. Subject of conversation the wreck of the steamship Titanic. The following story was told me by a survivor:
At 11:45 Sunday night I with three of my mates was in my cabin when I felt the shock of the steamer hitting the iceberg. She bounded back and brushed again at the iceberg. Before she hit the second time the engines were stopped. The bulkhead doors were then ordered closed. Going on deck dressed as I am now [he pointed to his black sweater, trousers and bedroom slippers] I saw a sight that I shall never forget. At one of the lifeboats that was full of men, an officer stood with a revolver in his hand. ‘Clear out of there, you men, and let the ladies into the boat first,’ said he. They cleared out. About six men were sent with each lifeboat as crew. Several men were shot. A man was running along the deck; he stopped, turned around and said to me, ‘Take care of them for me, will you.’ I turned and saw two ladies he indicated. I grabbed them each by the hand, and, brushing by an officer with ‘I am taking care of them,’ we jumped into a lifeboat which was immediately lowered. The man behind me, I remember, was grabbed by the collar and flung back into the crowd on deck.
