The Titanic Plan (58 page)

“
Women and children first,” Second Officer Charles Lightoller shouted over the ear-splitting hiss of steam that was being released through the ship’s funnels. “Women and children first.”

The crowd was almost exclusively First-Class passengers and they seemed unconcerned about the situation. Their lifebelts were fitted over fine gowns and fur coats. The general mood was that of waiting for the doors of an opera house to open. A flare twisted up into the night and exploded into a starburst of glittering white above the ship. It seemed like the 4th of July or New Year’s Eve.

There was a real reluctance to board the lifeboats. Even as the
Titanic
began dipping at the bow, most of the passengers continued to believe that the ship was unsinkable and that it was far safer to remain onboard then to cast onto the cold sea in a tiny lifeboat. Near 12:40 a.m. the first lifeboat was lowered into the ocean. There were 28 people on it; its capacity was 65.

Making his way onto the upper deck with Henry, Archie was shocked that things were moving so quickly. The officer in charge of the starboard side of the ship, Charles Lightoller, was struggling to fill the boats. No one seemed to be listening to him. “You stay here,” Archie said to Henry, then walked up to Lightoller, who seemed surprised by the sight of Archie in his military uniform. “Can I be of assistance to you?” Archie asked.

“
Thank you, sir, but I think we have it under control,” Lightoller said. “I’ll let you know if we need any help.” Archie retreated. Lightoller began calling for more women and children. Archie moved back to where Henry was waiting. But Henry wasn’t there. Archie quickly perused the crowd that was growing thicker. The boy was nowhere in sight. Just as quickly as Henry had turned up, he was gone again. Disappeared into thin air.

Sixteen ships received distress signals from the
Titanic
early that Monday morning. Several radioed back that they would steam to the given coordinates as fast as possible. The closest of the ships was a
Cunard
liner, the
Carpathia
. It was 58 miles to the southeast. At full speed, it would reach the
Titanic
in four hours.

Archie couldn’t understand what drove Henry to abandon him. What was it in the boy’s make up that made him so unreliable? Growing up on the streets? Fear? Lack of discipline? Lack of trust? Whatever Henry’s problem was, Archie still felt responsible for him. He searched desperately for the boy, first over the Boat Deck, then one deck down, on the A-deck, where many First Class passengers milled about, trying to decide if they should bother to brave the commotion up top.

In the Smoking Lounge there were a surprising number of men sipping drinks, which were now “on the house.” Archie looked over the room. There was no sign of Henry, but he did see Frank Millet waving to him from a card table. “Archie,” Millet called. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“
Why would you be waiting for me, Frank?” Archie said, hurrying over to the table.

“
You promised to come back and play a round with us.”

Arthur Ryerson had dealt four hands of thirteen cards, which were sitting on the table, face down, waiting to be played. “Come on, Arch,” Millet said. “Pull up a chair.”

Archie looked at the three men as if they were insane. “Frank, do you know this ship is sinking?”

“
That’s fairly obvious,” Millet calmly replied. The men around the table chuckled. Millet lifted his face. Archie could see from Millet’s expression that he was keenly aware of everything that was taking place. But rather than being filled with alarm, Millet’s crinkled face had a serene countenance to it. “One dies as one lives,” Millet said simply.

“
As gentlemen,” Moore added.

“
So, how about it, Arch? If this is the last time, let’s enjoy a round of bridge together.”

Archie didn’t share Millet’s sense of serenity. Still, he couldn’t refuse his good friend. “One round, Frank. A quick round.”

“
Then pick up your cards,” Millet said.

Archie did. He was holding a great hand.

CHAPTER 64

T
he
Titanic’s
eight-member band was serenading passengers in the First Class Lounge when they were asked to move up top to bring a sense of calm to those waiting to board the lifeboats. They hauled their instruments up the Grand Staircase and situated themselves just inside the entrance to the Boat Deck. Their first number was
Alexander’s Ragtime Band
. They followed it with
Great Big Beautiful Doll
. As the band’s music floated over the Boat Deck, lifeboats were being swung by rope from their davits over the ship’s side. Because the
Titanic
was deemed unsinkable, there was little rehearsal for putting the lifeboats in the water, which was a good 75 feet below. With the boats swaying and tilting high above the cold ocean, it seemed far safer to remain onboard and enjoy the lively music. Most of the boats that were being lowered were barely half full.

Panic was beginning to sweep through the lower regions of the
Titanic
. Unlike the passengers in the decks above, who were feeling a slight list to the ship, the passengers in Third Class were being flooded out. Water was roaring into the front berths and sending those passengers, many of them immigrants and laborers, to clamor into the corridors and stairwells. But the stairwells were locked. Third Class passengers were trapped behind steel gates, not allowed to climb to the waiting lifeboats on the Boat Deck. Many crowded into their dining saloon, where prayers in a number of languages were now growing louder and more desperate. Others crammed into the stairwells, demanding that the gates be opened. Anxious stewards stood on the other side of the steel gates, urging the restless passengers to keep calm, but sensing that all hell could break loose at any moment.

Benjamin Guggenheim was extremely uncomfortable in the life jacket that was fastened under his bulky sweater. He walked his French mistress, Léontine Aubart, and her maid, to a lifeboat and helped them in, then waved goodbye and watched the boat descend to the water. Guggenheim then retreated to his cabin. Twenty minutes later he and his valet reappeared in the First Class Smoking Lounge, both dressed in their finest white tie evening wear, without their life jackets. A steward ordered them to put the life jackets back on. Guggenheim refused. “We’ve dressed in our best and are prepared to go down like gentlemen,” Guggenheim said, then went on acting the heroic
bon vivant
, saying very loudly so all could hear, “Do tell my wife that I played the game out straight and to the end. No woman shall be left aboard this ship because Ben Guggenheim was a coward.”

On the far end of the A-Deck Promenade, a number of men and women, all First Class passengers, were told to wait for a lifeboat to be lowered from the Boat Deck to them. After much trouble, a lifeboat finally arrived. Eleanor Widener was led into the boat by her son Harry and husband George, who kissed her goodbye. Marian Thayer was assisted into the boat by her husband John. Madeline Astor, who had dressed for the occasion in a long coat with a sable collar, a diamond strand around her neck and her hands stuffed in a fur muff, was reluctant to leave Astor’s side. “I won’t go if you can’t come,” Madeleine cried, clutching her husband.

“
Get into the lifeboat, my darling,” Astor spoke sweetly to Madeleine. “To please me. I will get another boat.” He took off his gloves and tossed them to her, then turned to Lightoller. “My wife is with child and in a very delicate condition. I believe it would be wise if I accompanied her.”

“
I’m sorry, sir, women and children only,” Lightoller replied, sticking strictly to the rule, even though twenty seats on the boat were unoccupied.

“
Well, tell me the number of the boat, so I may find my wife afterward.”

“
Boat number 4,” Lightoller said.

“
The sea is calm,” Astor called to Madeleine as they began to lower the boat. “You’re in good hands. I’ll meet you in the morning.” Astor stepped back, lit a cigarette and watched the boat splash into the water.

After his one quick game with Millet, Archie bid his friends goodbye then raced from the card table to go up top. Things had gone from bad to worse. The bow of the ship was tilting at such a degree that it was only ten feet above the waterline. Panic was overtaking those who were calmly debating whether to go or stay only a few minutes earlier. The hard reality hit Archie full on: he was likely facing a watery death very soon. He remembered that the last time he confronted his mortality, he broke down sobbing in a Filipino slaughterhouse. He would not repeat that episode. So when a wave of fear rippled through him, he glanced around the deck looking for someone to save other than himself. And there, amid the growing chaos, was a plainly dressed woman, obviously a third-class passenger, who appeared frightened and lost. Pushing his way to her, he held out his hand. “This way, ma’am,” Archie said gently, and then led her through a group of agitated men to the lifeboat.

From that moment, Archie became a dervish, herding as many women and children to the boats as possible. Irene Harris, a woman whom Archie shepherded to a lifeboat, described him in action: “Major Butt…was here and there and everywhere, giving words of encouragement to weeping women and children, and uttering, when necessary, commands to keep the weak-kneed men from giving in and rendering the awful situation even more terrible… But, oh, this whole world should rise in praise of Major Butt. You would have thought he was at a White House reception, so cool and calm was he.”

Edwin Wheeler’s identity papers said he was from Bath, England, born in 1886. The story went that he had worked for Vanderbilt for 12 years. The actual fact was Edwin Wheeler was “engaged” only days before the
Titanic’s
departure. He supposedly boarded with Vanderbilt’s luggage, when, oddly, Vanderbilt had already sailed days earlier, traveling with his luggage and his actual longtime valet.

This puzzling information would have probably been lost to the world had not Henry seen Wheeler walk across the empty forecastle deck toward the bow of the ship right when Archie was first approaching Lightoller to offer his assistance. At that moment, Henry had to make a split-second decision: to obey Archie’s orders and wait for him, or to follow Wheeler. Henry took off.

Limping painfully down two deck levels, Henry had to force himself through clumps of passengers who were shoving and flailing in a desperate attempt to climb to the lifeboats. When he finally reached the B-Deck and hobbled out to the forecastle, he couldn’t see anyone. The deck appeared deserted. A cacophony of noise eerily descended over the emptiness – panicked shouts mixed with the strains of ragtime and the steaming hiss from the funnels. Henry inched along the deck, staying in the shadows, so as not to be spotted. But Wheeler, if he was still on this deck, was invisible as well. Henry was about to give up and go back up to Archie when he caught a whiff of something. He sniffed the cold air. It smelled like…a cigar. He closed his eyes and sniffed again, trying to determine where the scent was coming from. Shifting his head, he honed in on the odor, then opened his eyes. There, at the rail near the front bow of the ship, was the red glow from the tip of a cigar. Henry stared through the darkness at the gleaming point. At first, all he saw was the shadowy silhouette of a man – a large, hulking man with jutting ears. Wheeler was casually leaning against the rail, looking to be without a care in the world. He smoked his cigar slowly and serenely, savoring the taste.

Henry waited, his gaze fixed on Wheeler, as the bow of the ship sank lower toward the water. Wheeler opened his pocket watch and checked it, all the while observing the lifeboats descending past him. Henry was puzzled by Wheeler’s lack of concern. Minutes ticked by. The water kept getting closer to the bow, so close that Henry could see each small ripple over the ocean’s mirror smooth surface.

Two flares rocketed high into the sky and exploded over the bow. In the flash of brightness, Henry caught sight of the huge man gazing up to the chaos that now engulfed the Boat Deck. Wheeler took a puff of his cigar then made a sudden, sweeping wave of his arm. Henry whirled to see to whom Wheeler was signaling. It was a man, a mustachioed man with a life belt over his suit. He too was lit up by the brightness from the flares and was waving back to Wheeler. It was Ismay. Wheeler flicked the stub of his cigar into the ocean and took off for the stairwell. Henry hung back a moment before following.