Unsinkable: The Full Story of the RMS Titanic (27 page)

—Jeremiah 51:6

 

 

 

IT WAS NOW 1 :45 A.M. THE
TITANIC
HAD DEVELOPED AN UGLY LIST TO PORT as her bow dipped under and the sea began pouring through the hatch covers and ventilators of the forward well deck. Standing by the bridge Chief Officer Wilde bellowed, “Everyone on the starboard side to straighten her up!” Passengers and crew dutifully trooped across the Boat Deck and the ship swung slowly back.

About this time Phillips turned the key over to Bride, left the wireless office and took a quick walk around the forward half of the Boat Deck. He watched the frantic efforts of the crew as they tried to maintain order in loading the lifeboats. For the first time that night he heard the ragtime and waltzes being played by the band. When he returned to the wireless shack a few minutes later, all he could do was shake his head as he took over from Bride again and mutter, “Things look very queer outside, very queer indeed.”
¹

At one point Phillips had watched the sea sweep over the foredeck and begin to flood into the forward well deck, washing past the foot of the foremast and swirling around the winches and cranes. Though he probably couldn’t have known it, as he watched the sea begin to pour down the hatchcovers of Number 1 and Number 2 holds, the Titanic was sinking faster, as now the water could enter the ship by a way other than the ruptured hull below. More critical, the cargo hatches gave the sea a way into the ship that was above all the watertight bulkheads. The end was not far off now.

There were precious few lifeboats left. Near the bridge a scuffle broke out around Collapsible C, which had been fitted into the davits of Boat 1. A mob of stewards and Third Class passengers rushed the boat, trying to climb aboard. Purser McElroy drew his revolver and fired twice into the air, while First Officer Murdoch tried to hold the crowd back, shouting, “Get out of this! Clear out of this!” Hugh Woolner and Lieutenant Steffanson heard the gunshots and rushed over, just in time to see two stewards slip past McElroy and Murdoch and jump into the boat. Woolner and Steffanson promptly dragged the culprits back out and threw them onto the deck. Under the watchful eyes of the four men—the two officers and two passengers—Collapsible C was quickly but calmly loaded.
²

A much steadier Bruce Ismay was doing his best to help, having recovered his composure after suffering Fifth Officer Lowe’s earlier outburst. He had spent most of his time shepherding as many passengers into the lifeboats as possible. Now he was working with Murdoch and McElroy, trying to get any women or children they could find into Collapsible C.

Finally McElroy was satisfied that the boat was full and called out to lower away. From the starboard bridge wing the chief officer asked who was in command of the boat. Before McElroy could reply, Captain Smith, also standing on the starboard bridge wing, turned to Quartermaster Rowe—still vainly firing his rockets—and told him to take charge. Rowe fired off his eighth and last rocket, then noticed that now he could see only the strange ship’s red sidelight. Clearly she wasn’t underway, but only drifting with the current. Disgusted, he left the four remaining rockets and jumped in the stern of the collapsible. McElroy nodded to the deck hands at the davits, and they began turning the cranks to lower Collapsible C to the sea. Just as the boat’s gunwale reached the level of the deck, Bruce Ismay stepped forward, and without so much as a glance at the other men on the Boat Deck, jumped into an empty spot near the bow.

The lowering continued and as the boat made her way down the ship’s side, the
Titanic’s
list returned, causing Collapsible C’s wooden keel to catch on the rows of rivet heads protruding from the hull plates. The passengers desperately pushed the boat away from the side of the ship, using oars as fenders, until Collapsible C reached the water. The falls were quickly freed and the boat drifted off into the night.
³

Ismay’s example was ignored by most of the First Class men. A little farther up the Boat Deck, Arthur Ryerson, Major Butt, Clarence Moore, and Walter Douglas, having abandoned their bridge game, stood together talking quietly. Jack Thayer, standing on the starboard side of the Boat Deck with Milton Long, didn’t know that his father, John B. Thayer, was only a few yards away on the other side of the Boat Deck, chatting with George Widener. A dozen or more of the First Class men were helping Lightoller and Murdoch load the lifeboats and free Collapsibles A and B, which were still lashed to the roof of the officers’ quarters.
⁴

On the port side of the Boat Deck, Lightoller was getting Boat 2 ready for loading. After Quartermaster Rowe had finished firing off the rockets, Fourth Officer Boxhall had remained on the bridge waiting for orders. Captain Smith told him to take charge of Boat 2, so Boxhall had crossed to the port side, where Lightoller was getting the boat loaded. Only moments before the second officer had discovered a large group of men—passengers and crewmen—already huddled in Boat 2. Furious, Lightoller drew his revolver and leveled it at them, shouting, “Get out of there, you damned cowards! I’d like to see every one of you overboard!” There was a mad scramble as the men fled the lifeboat: they had no way of knowing that Lightoller’s gun wasn’t even loaded—and they had all heard shots fired further down the deck just a few minutes before! Lightoller moved back to Boat 4 and Boxhall took charge of Boat 2. In short order twenty-five women, one male passenger from steerage, and Boxhall, along with three crewmen, had climbed into the boat. At one point one of the women pleaded with her husband to come with her, but he gently pushed her away, saying “No, I must be a gentleman.” An embarrassed Boxhall witnessed the exchange, then turned and told the men at the davits to lower away. Slowly Boat 2 creaked its way down to the sea.
⁵

Boat 4 had been a problem all night, but now Lightoller had no choice—he had to use it. Originally the plan had been to load the boat from the Promenade Deck, but the windows there had proven particularly difficult to open. Then someone noticed that the Titanic’s sounding spar projected from the hull immediately below the boat. While Seaman Sam Parks and Storekeeper Jack Foley went below to get an axe to chop away the offending spar, Lightoller had moved on to other boats. Now the spar was gone, the windows were opened, and a stack of deck chairs served as makeshift steps to the window sills. Standing with one foot in Boat 4 and one foot on the sill, Lightoller called for the waiting women and children to climb aboard.

They had certainly waited long enough. Among those in the crowd were the Ryerson family, Mrs. Thayer, Mr. and Mrs. Carter, and of course, Colonel and Mrs. Astor. For more than an hour they had shuttled back and forth between the Boat Deck and the Promenade Deck as various plans for loading the boat were made, altered, then discarded. After being ordered up to the Boat Deck a second time, only to have Second Steward Dodd tell them to go back down to A Deck again, they were understandably frustrated. “Just tell us where to go and we will follow!” exclaimed Mrs. Thayer in exasperation. “You ordered us up here and now you are sending us back!”

The shuttling was over now and Boat 4 was being loaded just as quickly as Lightoller, assisted by Clinch Smith and Colonel Gracie, could pass the women and children through the open windows. John Jacob Astor helped his wife negotiate the deck chairs, saying, “Get into the lifeboat, to please me.” He then asked Lightoller if he could join her, explaining that she was “in delicate condition.”

“No, sir,” Lightoller replied firmly, “no men are allowed in these boats until the women are loaded first.”

“Well, what boat is it?”

“Boat 4, sir.” At that Astor turned to his wife and said, “The sea is calm. You’ll be all right. You’re in good hands. I’ll meet you in the morning,” then stepped away and made his way back up to the Boat Deck.

As Arthur Ryerson was helping his wife and their maid, Victorine, across the deck chairs, he noticed that the girl had no lifebelt on. Quickly stripping his off, he fastened it around the frightened young woman, then saw her into the boat. When Jack Ryerson made to follow her, Lightoller suddenly called out, “That boy can’t go!”

Mr. Ryerson bristled. Placing his arm around Jack’s shoulders he said, “Of course the boy goes with his mother—he’s only thirteen.” Jack climbed through the window into the boat, leaving Lightoller muttering, “No more boys.” He didn’t notice ten-year-old Billy Carter, Jr., wearing a girl’s hat, climb past him as Mrs. Carter got in the boat. Ryerson, like Colonel Astor, returned to the Boat Deck.

Just then Colonel Gracie noticed a young woman standing off to one side, holding a baby. Who she was he had no idea, but from the expression on her face, she was clearly frightened of going near the edge of the deck but was equally terrified of being left behind. Gracie assured her that he would hold her child while she climbed into the boat and the woman accepted his help. No sooner had she taken her seat than she cried out, “Where’s my baby?”

“Here’s your baby, miss,” Gracie said gently, and handed the child over. Gracie never forgot his own fear at that moment, worried that the boat might be lowered before he could return the infant, and wondering how he would manage in the water with a child in his arms.
⁶

From up on the Boat Deck a voice called down, “How many women are there in the boat? ”

Lightoller did a quick count and called back, “Twenty-four.”

“That’s enough, lower away.” At 1:55 Boat 4 dropped to the water—just fifteen feet below.
⁷

It was clear now to those in the lifeboats that, no matter what they had believed or hoped before, the Titanic was doomed. The ship was visibly moving now, and from somewhere inside her a series of intermittent crashes began, sounding like huge stacks of china being shattered. First Officer Murdoch was finally convinced that it was hopeless. As he watched Collapsible C pull away from the ship, he turned to Steward John Hardy and said quietly, “I believe she’s gone, Hardy.”
⁸

Lightoller had been convinced of it for some time: each glance down that emergency stairway showed the sea rising steadily higher. Now it was up to C Deck. Despite the bitter cold, Lightoller’s exertions had worked him into quite a sweat, and great beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead. Gone was his greatcoat—working now in only his pajamas he supervised the crewmen who were slinging Collapsible D in Boat 2’s now empty davits. Assistant Surgeon Simpson, seeing that the second officer was wringing wet with sweat, couldn’t resist a good-natured, if ill-timed, jibe, calling out, “Hello, Lights, are you warm?” Lightoller ignored him.
⁹

It’s uncertain whether or not Lightoller had been aware of the discrepancy between the number of people aboard the Titanic and the capacity of the lifeboats she carried; or, if he was aware of it, if he had thought of it in anything more than terms of abstract numbers. Whatever the case, the awful truth of that disparity was driven home to him now. Before him, on the
Titanic’s
decks, were more than 1,500 people; behind him was the last lifeboat, with seats for forty-seven. Recalling that when the crowd had rushed Boats 14 and 15 as well as Collapsible C, they had barely been held back, Lightoller took no chances: gathering all the crewmen he could find, plus a few trusted passengers, he had them form a ring around Collapsible D, arms locked together. Only women and children would be allowed through.

Winnie Troutt had been watching the boats being lowered for some time without making the slightest move to get into one herself She felt she had seen too many husbands and wives forcibly separated so that single women such as herself could be given preference in the boats. At least, she thought, her family would be spared the cost of a funeral for her.

Suddenly a man she had never seen before came up to her and held out a baby to her, saying, “I don’t want to be saved, but will you save this baby?” Winnie took the child, then realizing that now she had to find a place in one of the boats, she headed for Collapsible D. The men forming the barricade around the boat let her pass through, but as she did so, a woman Winnie didn’t know looked at her and the baby and cried out, “Oh, you[’re] so fool[ish]! The ship’s about to sink.”

“Why, you nasty thing!” Winnie snapped furiously. She turned to a crewman and asked, “What will become of us?”

“Don’t worry, madam, the White Star Line will take care of you.” Satisfied, Miss Troutt climbed into Collapsible D.

A man who had been calling himself “Mr. Louis Hoffman” during the voyage brought two small boys to the ring and passed them through. His name was actually Michel Navatril, and he had kidnapped the boys—his sons, Edmond, just two, and Michel, not quite four—from his estranged wife, hoping to escape to America where she would never find them. As he let go of Michel’s hand, he said, “Tell your mother I love her.” Right behind him came Colonel Gracie with Mrs. John Murray Brown on one arm and Miss Edith Evans on the other. Henry B. Harris brought his wife Renee up to the ring, passed her through, and was told he could not follow. “I know,” he sighed, “I’ll stay.”

The Goldsmiths came up to the ring and stopped. Mr. and Mrs. Goldsmith said a quiet goodbye, then Mr. Goldsmith gave nine-year-old Franky an affectionate squeeze on the shoulder, saying, “So long, Franky. I’ll see you later.” A traveling companion gave Mrs. Goldsmith his wedding band, remarking, “If I don’t see you in New York, see that my wife gets this.” A steward pulled Mrs. Goldsmith and her son toward the boat, then turned to sixteen-year-old Alfred Rush. “No!” the lad cried, “I’m going to stay with the men!” Just behind Mrs. Goldsmith and Franky a talkative group of Syrian women, many with babies, climbed into the boat.