Voices from the Carpathia, page 7
As soon as all immediate help was given, the Titanic’s lifeboats were hoisted on deck and we made for New York with all speed.
On arrival the piers were crowded with people seeking relatives, and there were many pathetic scenes and reuniting. We were greatly affected by the sadness of it all. The American public showed great gratitude to the captain and crew of our ship, and we were literally given the freedom of New York.
Once all was cleared and details of every rescued person given, we proceeded on our voyage. We were presented with a medal from the people of the USA, and I think everyone had an extra month’s pay from the White Star Line. This disaster was accounted to be one of the worst in the merchant service annals.14
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MRS COLIN CAMPBELL COOPER
After the disaster (possibly on 18 April) Mrs Cooper wrote a letter to her sister, Mrs William Carson. The letter started out by saying that the first news of the Titanic’s plight was received about 12 o’clock and that at about 4 o’clock two boatloads of survivors were picked up. Later there were sixteen in all:
I think more than half were filled with steerage passengers, and nearly all were filled with women and children. The first boats to leave the Titanic carried husbands with wives, but later no men were allowed to enter the boats and numbers of wives stayed with their husbands until the last boat and were urged to get in by their husbands, all of whom were calm and brave to the last. The last boat had gotten but a short distance away when the great steamer plunged her bow into the water, heaved, twisted and sank down into the depths without any of the suction that they feared would draw the small boats in the vicinity down with her.
The heroism of the splendid men who remained on the Titanic is the talk of all on board and passengers feel that instead of filling the lifeboats with all women, the husbands should have been sent with the wives when boats were not filled, so that they might have taken the oars. In most cases there were but two or three sailors in a boat, and the women helped at the oars as they could.
I have heard of one man, a sailor, who was at the helm of a lifeboat and behaved like a brute. He refused to leave the helm to a man with one arm broken, who could have helped row toward our steamer, and so been of assistance. His remarks, his conduct were simply brutal. All the others were brave and splendid through it all.
But it seems wrong to have saved so many widows who are to reach New York without a cent or the addresses of relatives in some cases, while so many strong men went down to the strains of the orchestra. The music was heard until the last.
Mrs Cooper said that lack of caution was thought to be the cause of the disaster. She said that there was a great field of ice all around the ship. The view at sunrise when the ice became visible in all its colours was of much beauty and weirdness.
There are many stories of the splendid heroism of men and women and of the calmness and dignity of the entire proceeding. With very few exceptions the behaviour of all was fine. They tell of a baron who got into a boat in spite of threats and said he would kill anyone who stopped him, and refused to row, of his making himself a thick bed of blankets and that he had several jerked from under him by a furious woman.15
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HAROLD COTTAM
After the Carpathia reached New York, Marconi Operator Cottam dictated the following account of his experiences during the Titanic rescue:
I got the Titanic’s ‘CQD’ call at 11:20 o’clock, New York time, on last Sunday night. It was this: ‘Come at once. We’ve struck a berg. It’s a CQD call, old man.’
Then the Titanic’s operator followed with his position, which was latitude 41.46 north and longitude 50.14 west.
‘Shall I go to the Captain and tell him to turn back at once?’ I asked.
‘Yes. Yes’ came the instant reply.
I went to the bridge and notified First Officer Dean of the call for help. He roused Capt. Rostron, who was taking his turn below, and he issued orders to turn the ship about immediately.
I hurried back to my cabin, and just as I got there I heard the Titanic working the Frankfurt. The Titanic was having trouble in getting the Frankfurt’s signals because escaping steam and air from the expansion joint were making the signals almost indistinguishable.
I tried to get the Frankfurt, for he apparently only got the Titanic’s position, but I couldn’t raise him.
I think I received the CQD seven to ten minutes after the Titanic struck.
It was only a streak of luck that I got the message at all, for on the previous night I had been up until 2:30 o’clock in the morning, and the night before that until 3 o’clock, and I had planned to get to bed early that night.
I thought I’d take some general news, as I didn’t know how the coal strike in England was going, and I was interested in it. When I had been taking this some time there was a batch of messages coming through for the Titanic from the long-distance Marconi wireless station at Cape Cod, which transmits the day’s news at 10:30 New York time every evening.
When Cape Cod had been going some time he started sending a batch of messages for the Titanic, and, having heard the Titanic man being pushed with work during the afternoon, I thought I’d give him a hand by taking them and retransmitting them the following morning, as I had nothing much to work on.
As I was the nearest station to the Titanic, it was more or less my duty to retransmit them to him. When Cape Cod finished I made up my daily list of communications and reported them to the officer on watch. On returning to the cabin I put telephones on to verify a time rush which I had exchanged with the Parisian early that afternoon. A ‘time rush’ is the slang wireless word for the exchange of ship’s time, which is always made when you encounter another ship to see if your clocks agree.
I put the telephones on and called the Titanic and asked if he was aware that a batch of messages were being transmitted for him via Cape Cod. And his answer was: ‘Come at once. We have struck a berg’.
Previous to reporting the communication to the bridge I had been in constant watch, so that I was certain that she must have struck while I was on the bridge, and that was seven to ten minutes before.
After hearing the Frankfurt then, I heard the Olympic calling the Titanic with a service message, and as the Titanic didn’t reply, apparently he couldn’t hear the Olympic. I said to the Titanic: ‘Don’t you hear the Olympic calling you? Go ahead and call.’
My wireless wasn’t of as late type as that aboard the Titanic, so that my calls would have had no effect.
The only other ship I heard at this time was the Baltic. She was calling Cape Race. The Titanic exchanged sundry signals with the Carpathia, but apparently the Olympic and the Carpathia were the only ships that heard them.
We steamed with every ounce of steam in us in the direction given by the Titanic, and we reached the spot just before dawn. One of the engineers told me that the Carpathia had been making between 17 and 18 knots. Her usual speed is about 13 to 14 knots.
There was a double watch of men in the engine department, and everything that could be done to hasten our arrival at the location of the Titanic was being done.
All this time we were hearing the Titanic, sending her wireless out over the sea in a last call for help. ‘We are sinking fast’ was one which I picked up being sent to the Olympic.
The Frankfurt kept calling and asking us what was the matter, but though she must have been nearer to the Titanic than we were, she never arrived there until after we had picked up the survivors and left for New York.
Just before we reached the Titanic I got this message, and it was the last one I received: ‘Come quick. Our engine room is flooded up to the boilers.’
I answered them that our boats were ready, and for them to get theirs ready also, and that we were doing our utmost to get there in time. There was no reply. It was 11:55 New York time, when I got this last signal from the Titanic.
I kept calling to warn them to look out for our rockets, which were being constantly sent up, but I shall never know whether he heard me or not.
From 11:55 until we reached the spot where the Titanic foundered I was listening for a spark from his emergency set, and when I didn’t hear it I was sure that he had gone down.
The first sign we got, shortly before dawn, was a green light off the port bow of the Carpathia. It was a beacon on one of the small boats, and we knew then that the Titanic had gone, but that there were survivors for us to pick up.
I was kept busy in the wireless room for the next few minutes, and the first of the rescue that I saw was a boat alongside and the passengers being hauled aboard.
Most of them were women and children. Some were crying, and they seemed overcome by the calamity. As they were raised to the deck several of them collapsed.
I saw wood and debris from the sunken Titanic when dawn came, but I did not see a body in the water.
Daylight showed that we were right on the scene of the disaster, for there were ten or a dozen boats around us when it became light enough to see, and as rapidly as possible their occupants were taken aboard.
We remained near the spot, looking for additional survivors, for about three hours, and then, convinced that there was no human being alive in the sea of ice in which we floated, we started for New York.16
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In 1914 Mr Cottam wrote the following letter in reply to a May 1912 letter from an admirer:
Kushima Maru
So. Pacific
Xmas Day 14
Dr Miss J.B. Scherer,
You will, I have no doubt, be very surprised to hear from me.
I consider it high time I wrote you a short epistle acknowledging your existence out of merest decency. A thousand profuse apologies dear young lady for not recognizing receipt of yours of May 2nd 1912, but at the time of the disaster I barely glanced at the sundry letters & cards from well-wishers in various parts of the world & only the other day while looking my bachelor junk over did I drop across your request.
If you have not been able to raise my face from a newspaper relative to the Titanic affair I will send you a picture on my return to London.
Hoping this finds you at 4332 Michigan Ave.
Yours Sincerely,
Harold Thos. Cottam
Ex S/S Carpathia
Posted Tokyo, Japan17
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MRS CHARLES F. CRAIN
After the disaster Anna Crain wrote the following letter to a friend in Chicago:
I was the only passenger on the Carpathia to know about the accident until the first small boat arrived alongside. About 1:30 o’clock in the morning the ship surgeon, Dr. McGhee, came in to see my husband who was ill. He told me of the message announcing that the Titanic was sinking, which had just been received by wireless.
The lifeboats were made ready to lower, the rope gangways slung over the side and the baskets put in shape to haul up the children. On all sides of our ship were icebergs. The captain said we picked our way through like a snake.
Rockets were sent up, and on such a beautiful starlit night and with the sea like oil, it seemed as if we must see and be seen for miles. Finally we saw a blue light, which seemed to flicker and go out. A voice cried, ‘Shut off your engines’. Then a boat came alongside. Many of the women were in evening dress.
After an hour or so we had all the survivors on board – a pitiful 700. We could hear the agonized cries for help as the stern rose high in the air and then crashed down with the waves.18
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Mrs Crain also wrote the following story for a New York newspaper:
About half-past one o’clock Monday morning the ship’s surgeon, Dr. McGhee, came in to see my husband, who was ill. As he left he said a message had been received from the Titanic and that the ship had turned back and was making toward her with all possible speed. The report was that her engine room was full and she was sinking fast.
I dressed and went out upon the deck. This must have been a little before two o’clock. I was greatly impressed by the work of the ship’s crew, officers and men and the little group of stewardesses. Preparations for the rescue were pushed rapidly forward. One would have thought it merely an ordinary drill. The baskets were slung alongside to be used in bringing up the children, the boats were made ready to lower and the pleasant smell of coffee and piling up of soft masses of blankets told how much the comfort of the rescued was in the minds of all.
Suddenly a ghostly shape appeared off the port bow. It was an iceberg. Another and another appeared; high above the water they towered, while later on lower ones were to be seen dotting the waters like groups of tiny islands. The preparations were completed, the gangways of rope were fastened to the side and all eyes were strained to watch with fascinated gaze the nearing icebergs as we wound our way in and out among them seeking some sign of light or life from the missing ship.
Slowly the dawn crept up, a gray light spread over the sea, and showed us the huge monsters of ice that were surrounding us. Suddenly out of the darkness was seen a flickering light. It came nearer, and soon the outlines of a small boat were visible.
A voice called ‘Stop your engines’, and in the still waters the little craft drew alongside the swinging gangway. Who that saw it can ever forget that pitiful scene! The little handful waiting below, packed closely, each wearing a lifebelt, their strained, white faces uplifted to the decks!
A sort of rope harness was slipped over each in turn to keep them from falling should they slip, and so, quietly – and dazed with the cold and horror of the night – they were drawn on board and received by the sympathetic band of stewards and stewardesses. Occasionally the silence was broken by a wailing baby, unused to the bag which was bringing it to warmth and safety.
All were taken immediately to the dining saloon, and later the greatly afflicted were carried to the library, while the reunited ones found a place on deck and joined the watch for the missing boats.
The day soon broke, and over the water in all directions small white boats, scarcely distinguishable from the smaller icebergs, could be seen, in many cases rowed by the women, who had kept to their task all night.
Some of the boats were well filled, but in others were a mere handful, eloquent evidence of the condition that existed on the sinking vessel, where apparently no well directed efforts were made to save even those who might have found a place in the lifeboats had they been warned or called from their rooms in time.
One boat came alongside and a man was seen to shake the women seated near him gently by the shoulders and rouse them from their stupor of grief. I cannot describe the scene as boat after boat was unloaded and the agonized search began for the missing ones.
The Carpathia’s passengers went among the stricken ones assisting them to places where they could see the occupants of the ever arriving boats, until the eighteen had been accounted for, and their grief and despair knew no bounds. Sounds of weeping and sobbing filled the ship and several poor souls became delirious in their grief. Some faint hope was offered, that perhaps other ships had picked up a boat, but few found comfort in what they could only believe was held out to them to temper the first anguish of their loss.
The capacity of the Carpathia was strained to the utmost. Many of her passengers gave up their rooms and generously donated clothing to the needy. Clothing was cut from the steamer rugs and made a warm covering for the shivering little ones, snatched from their beds in the night and rolled in blankets.
Many of the grief stricken ones roused themselves to help in the work, and what the doctor’s soothing drugs had accomplished in the first day or two merciful labor did in the third and fourth.19
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‘EMPSIE’
After the Carpathia returned to New York on 18 April, Empsie wrote a letter to Mabel Dalby describing her honeymoon trip on that vessel. The letter thanked ‘Mab’ for writing a letter and postcard to her and ‘Hutch’, and for including the parting gift of a handkerchief. She mentioned that she had had to minimise the amount of luggage she took with her so that it would all fit into their stateroom, and she left her pendant and engagement ring in Hutch’s safe deposit box because she was afraid they might come to harm if she took them with her. She gave a list of wedding presents they had received and described how they dined at the Waldorf Astoria before the Carpathia sailed on 11 April.
She then told of the ‘horror’ of the Carpathia’s rescue of the Titanic’s survivors and mentioned the suffering and grief she witnessed. Empsie said that some of her travel plans had to be changed because of the Carpathia’s return to New York, but that they were nevertheless glad to have been able to help the survivors. She jokingly complained that her honeymoon trip didn’t involve any ‘spooning’ and that she saw very little of her husband during the return voyage due to the fact that they gave up their four-berth stateroom so that four survivors could make use of the cabin.
She described how she and her husband moved into the cabin of their table companions, a married couple from St Louis, and said that it seemed very odd to sleep in a tiny cabin with strangers. She wrote that the women turned in first and slept in the lower berths, while the men came in and retired after the ladies drew their curtains. The men arose and dressed first in the morning and then left the cabin so that the ladies could dress, and there was a great deal of joking about these arrangements.
Empsie and her husband hid the fact that they were newlyweds and claimed that they had been married for two years, and Empsie wrote that their long courtship had caused the usual ‘froth and goo-goo’ of newly-married couples to be absent, which assisted them in carrying out their bluff. She mentioned that the ruse was so successful that a judge from Adams, Massachusetts had spoken about his own 7-year-old son and then asked them if they had any children. Empsie replied with a ‘weak’ no and knocked on wood, and she concluded her letter by saying that the Titanic disaster had ruined her good spirits and taken all the beauty out of the sea for her.20
