The Other Side of the Night (19 page)
Meanwhile Rostron returned to the bridge, and ordered as many of the
Titanic’
s boats brought aboard as possible. Six were slung in the
Carpathia’
s davits, seven more were stowed on the foredeck; there was no room for more. These boats would be returned to the White Star Line when the ship reached New York; the other seven, including all four collapsibles, were set adrift. While the boats were being hoisted aboard, the
Mount Temple
, another vessel that had come rushing to the
Titanic
’s assistance, hove to about six miles to the east, having passed through the southern end of the icefield from the west. Rostron, who was expecting her arrival, quickly appraised Captain Moore of the
Mount Temple
of the situation, and asked her to continue the search for survivors. Then he returned to the chartroom to work out a course for New York.
It was about 9:15, as he was down in the charthouse laying out his new course, that Rostron was called back to the bridge. A second ship—a four-masted freighter with a single pale-red funnel—had appeared, steaming up from the southwest. First Officer Dean and Second Officer Bissett both recognized her as the ship they had earlier seen off to the north-northwest; Rees and Barish also recognized her. Rostron didn’t, not immediately, and he wondered where she had come from, since Cottam had assured him that, apart from the
Mount Temple
, there wouldn’t be any other ships arriving for some time. A brief exchange of flag signals followed, and the stranger identified herself as the
Californian
.
Rostron was too busy to give any further thought to whence she had come, or how she had appeared on the scene unannounced–-it would only be later that afternoon that he remembered seeing her earlier that morning, some eight or so miles off to the north-northwest. Quickly determining that the newcomer had no survivors aboard, Rostron then informed the master of the
Californian
that since the
Carpathia
had picked up all the survivors there were, his ship was immediately headed for New York. As a precaution he asked that the
Californian
take one last look around, so that it would be absolutely certain no one was being left behind. With that the Cunard liner put about, and slowly steamed away.
As the
Carpathia
began making her way toward New York, Rostron began dealing with the thousand and one unexpected details suddenly arising from bringing aboard over seven hundred survivors.
It was sometime on April 19, the day after the
Carpathi
a docked in New York, that Rostron sat down and wrote a report to the Cunard home office of the actions he took to rescue the Titanic’s survivors, as well as what transpired on the return to New York. The document paints a vivid picture of those four remarkable days.
R.M.S.
Carpathia
,
April 19, 1912.
General Manager Cunard Steamship Company, Ltd., Liverpool.
Sir: I beg to report that at 12.34 A.M. on the 15th inst. I was informed of urgent distress message from
Titanic
, with her position. I immediately ordered ship turned around and put in course for that position; we being then fifty-eight miles S. 42 E. (T) from her. Had heads of all departments called and issued what I considered the necessary orders to be in preparation for any emergency.
At 2.40 A.M., saw flare half a point on port bow, taking this for granted to be ship. Shortly after we sighted our first iceberg (I had previously had lookouts doubled, knowing that
Titanic
had struck ice, and so took every care and precaution).
We soon found ourselves in a field of bergs, large and small, and had to alter course several times to clear bergs; weather fine and clear, light airs, calm sea, beautifully clear night, though dark.
We stopped at 4 A.M., thus doing distance in three hours and a half, picking up the first boat at 4.10 A.M.; boat in charge of an officer and he reported to me that
Titanic
had foundered. At 8.30 A.M. last boat picked up. All survivors aboard and all boats accounted for, viz fifteen lifeboats alongside, one lifeboat abandoned, two Berthon [collapsible] boats alongside (saw one bottom upward among wreckage) and according to second officer not been launched, it having got jammed, making sixteen lifeboats and four Berthon boats accounted for.
By the time we had cleared first boat it was breaking day, and we could distinguish the other boats all within an area of four miles. We also saw that we were surrounded by icebergs, large and small, and three miles to the N.W. of us a huge field of drift ice with large and small bergs in it, the ice field trending from N.W. round by W. and S. to S.E., as far as we could see either way.
At 8 A.M. the Leyland S.S.
California
[sic] came up. I gave him the principal news and asked him to search and I would proceed to New York; at 8.50 proceeded full speed. While searching over vicinity of disaster and while we were getting people aboard I gave orders to get spare hands along and swing in all our boats, disconnect the falls and hoist us as many
Titanic
boats as possible, in our davits; also, get some on fo’castle deck by derricks. We got thirteen lifeboats, six on forward deck and seven in davits.
After getting all survivors aboard and while searching I got a clergyman to offer a short prayer of thankfulness for those saved and also a short burial service for those lost.
Before deciding definitely where to make for I conferred with Mr. Ismay, and though he told me to do what I thought best I informed him, taking everything into consideration. I considered New York best.
I knew we should require more provisions, clean linen, blankets and so forth, even if we went to the Azores.
As most of the passengers saved were women and children, and they were very hysterical, and not knowing what medical attention they might require, thought it best to go to New York; also thought it would be better for Mr. Ismay to get to New York or England as soon as possible and knowing that I should be out of wireless communication with anything very soon if I proceeded to the Azores.
Again, passengers were all hysterical about ice, and pointed out to Mr. Ismay the possibility of seeing ice if we went to Halifax. Then I knew from the gravity of the disaster that it would be desirable to keep in touch with land stations all we could.
I am pleased to say that all survivors have been very plucky. The majority of the women, first, second and third classes lost their husbands, and considering all have been wonderfully well. Tuesday our doctor reported all survivors physically well.
Our first class passengers have behaved splendidly, giving up the cabins quite voluntarily and supplying the ladies with clothes and so forth. We all turned out of our cabins to give them up to survivors, saloons, smokerooms, library and so forth also being used for sleeping accommodations. Our crew also turned out to let the crew of the
Titanic
take their quarters.
I am pleased to state that owing to preparations made for the comfort of the survivors none are the worse for exposure and so forth.
I beg to specially mention how willingly and cheerfully the whole of the ship’s company have behaved throughout, receiving the highest praise from everybody, and I can assure you, that I am very proud to have such a ship’s company under my command.
We have experienced very great difficulty in transmitting news, also names of survivors. Our wireless is very poor, and again, we have had so many interruptions from other ships, and also messages from shore (principally press, which we ignored). I gave instructions to send first all official messages, then names of passengers, then survivors’ private messages, and the last press messages, as I considered the three first items most important and necessary.
The consultation with Bruce Ismay had been a particular chore: no sooner had the Chairman of the White Star Line been brought aboard than he was taken to Dr. McGhee’s cabin, where he remained until the
Carpathia
docked in New York. His meals were brought to him, and aside from brief visits from two fellow survivors and Rostron, when the captain felt it necessary to seek his advice on some point, Ismay refused to see anyone. Possessed of a more fragile nature than anyone really suspected, Ismay had undergone a terrible shock when the
Titanic
went down. Certainly he was aware that his own survival would become an ugly issue, when so many other men in all three classes aboard the
Titanic
had died—the mortality rate among the men in Second Class alone had exceeded 90%. That he was also the chairman of the White Star Line would only make a bad situation appear worse; Ismay knew he would be pilloried in the American press, and there was no reason to believe that the British press would be any kinder. Then there was the sheer horror of what he had just witnessed: no one could have watched more than fifteen hundred people die without recoiling from the experience.
When Rostron first approached Ismay, it was to seek his approval for a return to New York, the captain’s thought being to do whatever was best for the survivors. Ismay immediately agreed; in fact whatever Rostron proposed was fine, Ismay said. No sooner had Rostron begun making his plans for the return to New York than Cottam reappeared on the bridge, bearing a message from the
Olympic
: her captain, H.J. Haddock, was suggesting that the Titanic’s passengers be transferred to his ship. Rostron thought this an appalling idea: just the sight of the
Olympic
, virtually a twin of the vanished
Titanic
, might well be enough to send some of the survivors into hysterics. Going back down to Dr. McGhee’s cabin, he broached the idea to Ismay, who simply shuddered at the suggestion. Rostron returned to the bridge and sent a signal to Captain Haddock, politely declining his offer.
As Rostron said in his report, the
Carpathia
’s passengers and crew were exemplary in their conduct toward the
Titanic
’s survivors. Despite being unexpectedly rousted out of their staterooms and shifted to other, smaller, less comfortable cabins, the Cunard passengers were nothing but helpful to their White Star counterparts. Likewise the crew, doubling up in already confined quarters, were never heard to begrudge the spaces given over to the
Titanic
’s crewmen. All of them, passengers and crew alike, understood that they were suddenly part of an extraordinary event, which required extraordinary conduct.
Not unexpectedly, most of the survivors held themselves somewhat aloof from the passengers aboard the
Carpathia
, not from any sense of snobbery, but rather because most of them were in varying degrees of shock, some physical, some emotional. The enormity of what they had experienced was such that no one aboard the Cunard ship, no matter how sympathetic, could ever understand it. And so the
Titanic
’s survivors were polite, and accepted the
Carpathia
’s passengers’ assistance with genuine gratitude, but the gulf was always there.
The worst moment of the trip to New York came through the actions of one of the surviving couples, Lady and Sir Cosmo Duff Gordon. They had been part of a group of twelve—five passengers and seven crewmen—who had gotten away from the
Titanic
in Lifeboat No. 1; they would soon become nortorious for having refused to return to the sinking ship, despite the fact that there was room for an additional thirty people in the boat. Apparently, once safely aboard the
Carpathia
, Lady Duff Gordon had what to her seemed to be a smashing idea: why not have a group picture taken of herself, her husband, her secretary, the other two passengers, and the seven crewmen who had manned Boat Number 1 for them? So, the day after they were rescued, all twelve gathered on the
Carpathia
’s foredeck, the crewmen conspicuous in their lifebelts. Other survivors stared in disbelief as Dr. McGhee, the
Carpathia
’s surgeon, prepared to take the picture with the words, “Now, smile everyone!”
Predictably perhaps, wireless messages presented a problem. The world was desperate for news of the disaster, families anxious for word of the fates of their loved ones, survivors intent on letting them know they were alive. The result was what appeared to be a hopeless muddle. Precisely what happened is still open to debate, but what is clear is that some of the troubles were technical in nature, and some were manmade. Captain Rostron, who had a keener appreciation of wireless than many of his colleagues, was determined to keep the idle chatter to a minimum; only the most essential messages were to be sent. He instructed Cottam to give first priority to communicating news to the Cunard and White Star offices, in particular in sending the names of the survivors, then passing along any brief personal messages they might have. Messages sent by the
Carpathia
’s own passengers would have to wait; there would be no time to answer incoming inquiries from the press.
In the wireless shack Cottam set to work. Once Harold Bride had gotten medical attention for his badly frostbitten feet, and a few hours rest, he began to periodically relieve Cottam at the key, but it was a long process. After sending the
Olympic
a brief synopsis of what had happened, along with an estimate of the numbers of passengers and crew lost as well as rescued, Cottam and Bride essentially ignored any incoming requests for news for the next three days.
