Unsinkable: The Full Story of the RMS Titanic (53 page)

Instead, Smith was confronted at every turn by the awful finality of what had occurred: every order he gave and every instruction he issued reminded him anew of the dreadful conclusion the night’s events must lead to, and the knowledge inhibited his ability to make decisions. Dr. Mihalyfi observes that Smith’s awareness of the terrible loss of life that was imminent would have loomed up like a wall before him every time he was called upon to choose a course of action. As a consequence indecision was easier, and isolation on the bridge made it easier still. It was quite possible that Smith couldn’t bring himself to go out onto the Boat Deck and see the faces of so many people who were very shortly going to die.

It went deeper than that, as well. Dr. Mihalyfi points out that it is quite common for someone who has undergone a severe psychological trauma to enter a state where they become completely hopeless, resigning themselves to their fate. They develop a feeling that the circumstances are insurmountable, that nothing can affect the outcome of the situation, and that any further effort on the part of the afflicted individual is pointless. Apparently this too overtook Captain Smith,..as it seems he made little if any effort to reach any of the lifeboats after the Titanic sank. Indeed there can be few more perfect statements of hopelessness as when Smith told Phillips, “You look out for yourself. I release you. That’s the way of it at this kind of time....”

It is important to note that Dr. Mihalyfi’s observations do not imply that Captain Smith went mad or was mentally deranged (note that Dr. Mihalyfi is a psychologist, not a psychiatrist), nor are they intended to impute an undeserved portion of the blame for the
Titanic’s
disaster to Captain Smith. Instead they make it clear that Smith was confronted with a situation that he wasn’t prepared by emotion, experience, or training to handle. That Captain Smith was overwhelmed by circumstances is something for which he should be pitied, but never condemned. It is highly doubtful that any of us could have done any better
¹

THE STORY OF THE
TITANIC
IS IN MANY WAYS A MODERN EPIC, AND IT SEEMED at times that the research needed to retell it correctly would have to be of epic proportions—and it very nearly was. While not exactly a cast of thousands, there were scores of people, at dozens of institutions of every description, in five countries scattered across two continents who made some kind of genuine, material contribution to this work. I would like to thank them all, and in particular single out those persons and institutions whose assistance were particularly significant.

As any writer will readily acknowledge, good librarians and archivists are the people who make a writer’s work possible. Consequently, I want to acknowledge my debt to the staffs of the following libraries, museums, and archives:

The U.S. Library of Congress, where not only are the complete transcripts of the U.S. Senate investigation to be found, but also hundreds of Titanic-related references. In all my visits the staff was always a model of courtesy; the staff at the Van Zoeren (now the Van Wylen) Library at Hope College in Holland, Michigan, as well as the librarians and student assistants at the Grand Valley State University libraries in Allendale, Michigan, who all those years ago so willingly aided me in locating old, out-of-print books and obscure periodicals through the Michigan University Library System; the Public Library of Grand Rapids, Michigan, and in particular the library’s city historian, Gordon Olsen, who labored diligently to help me in my researches about Senator William Alden Smith, as did Jeannie Larsen of the Archive Section of the Grand Rapids Public Museum, as well as providing information about several of the
Titanic’s
survivors who either hailed from southern Michigan or later settled there; the Orange County Library System, Orange County, Florida, and especially Miss Candace Critchfield, of the Orlando branch’s Genealogy Department, who bent her considerable familiarity with immigration records, steamship manifests, and the like to the task of showing me how sharply the reality of immigration into the United States in the first decade of this century differed from the popular images created by latter day sensation-mongers masquerading as journalists.

A number of museums deserve particular mention, among them the Mariners’ Museum of Newport News, Virginia, which possesses an outstanding collection of photographs of the Titanic and her contemporaries; the National Maritime Museum in Philadelphia, which holds most of the handful of artifacts that were recovered from the area of the Atlantic immediately after the Titanic went down; and the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic in Halifax, Nova Scotia, with its own collection of artifacts and archives. Most importantly, these museums are staffed by men and women who know ships and the sea, and so can give insights and perspectives on a subject that might otherwise escape an ordinary historian. Halifax in particular has never left its seafaring roots behind it, and the city and its people have treated the memory of the Titanic with great respect.

The Ulster Folk and Transport Museum of Belfast, Northern Ireland, possesses one of the finest collections of photographs of the Titanic in the world. In addition, the staff have a unique knowledge of the men who designed and built her, of their times and their world, and as a result can make those lives very, very real to a researcher like myself I will always be grateful to them, especially Mr. Michael McCaughan, curator of maritime history, for the help they gave me.

The city of Southampton has never entirely forgotten the grief caused by the terrible death toll among the crew, most of whom called that ancient seaport home. As a result, the Southampton City Museums have always had a special interest in the Titanic and especially her crew. Because of this, the Museums, administered by the Southampton Heritage Centre, are a veritable treasure trove of information and photographs that make it possible to reconstruct the lives of the
Titanic’s
crewmen, as well as of the dark, grieving days that followed the sinking. My particular thanks go to the Museums’ staff, and especially to Donald Hyslop, the community history manager of the Centre.

Admittedly the great days of British shipbuilding have passed in Belfast, but Harland and Wolff still construct some of the finest ships in the world. Even today, though, the firm is immensely proud of the three sisters, Olympic, Titanic, and Britannic, and there are many at the yard who still maintain that the finest ship to ever leave their ways was the Titanic. It was more than ten years ago that Mr. Tommy McCluskey showed me the concrete apron that was all that remained of Slips No. 2 and 3 where the three ships were built, and guided me around the shipyard that, while it has changed tremendously, is still recognizable as the yard in the photographs from 1912.

The British Public Records Office is the repository of the transcript of the Board of Trade inquiry into the loss of the Titanic. It runs to something over 2,000 pages, and the transcript is, for the most part, an exercise in rather turgid “legalese,” but there were moments when my modern “American English” was not up to the demands of a 1912 lawyer’s “English English” and the members of the staff of the PRO were always willing to help out “the fellow from the colonies.”

Simply put, the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich, England, has no equal anywhere in the world for the breadth and depth of its resources or the accumulated knowledge of ships and the sea. Of particular help to me were comments and observations on the text made by Dr. Stephen Deucher, the exhibitions director. Dr. Deucher was responsible for setting up the now-famous “Wreck of the
Titanic”
Exhibition, which ran for a year, from October 1994 to October 1995, displaying to the public for the first time many of the artifacts recovered and preserved from the Titanic in the late 1980s.

In each of these institutions I conducted some major or at least significant portion of my research and in each I was always received with consummate professionalism and courtesy. Over the course of several years and many visits, the faces and names would often change, so that now I can only dimly recall some them, but to each and every one, I extend my genuine and sincere gratitude.

A special mention is deserved of certain individuals whose contributions to this work were so unique or so specific that they merit singling out: Mr. Walter Lord gave graciously of his time as well as his resources to help me gain a better perspective of all that happened the night of April 14-15, 1912; his spirit of cooperation and openness deserves to be emulated by more historians. Alistair Lang, of East Kilbride, Scotland, lent his engineering training and experience so that I could better understand the stresses the
Titanic’s
hull underwent as she was sinking and as she broke up. James Krogan, naval architect and president of James S. Krogan & Co. of Miami, Florida, took the time to explain the finer points of the
Titanic’s
design and construction. David Norris, a private investigator and amateur radio enthusiast from Burton, Michigan, was kind enough to recount to me the story of how he uncovered the fate of Harold Bride, and was also willing to share his knowledge of the early days of shipboard wireless. Matthew McLean, a retired bosun of the British Merchant Marine who now lives in Hollywood, Florida, offered advice that helped me avoid technical errors, and provided insight into the life of a British merchant seaman that was invaluable. Harold Butler, of Swartz Creek, Michigan, a former Able-Bodied Seaman in the American Merchant Marine (and, incidentally, my father) provided advice on nautical usage, terminology, and equipment. Dr. Dorothy Mihalyfi, a clinical psychologist with a practice in Boca Raton, Florida, provided invaluable insights into the motives and mentalities of several of the individuals involved with the loss of the Titanic. J. Reginald Bunting, of Lyme Regis, in Dorsetshire, England, formerly of the London Times Educational Supplement, read this book while it was still in manuscript form, and offered his insights, comments, and criticisms about its content and readability. Linda Miller at the Grand Rapids Press, successor to the Herald once owned by Senator Smith, provided leads, which often added fascinating bits of detail to the story. Jon Webb and Lisa Fuller-Webb gave moral and sometimes material support that allowed this work to be completed. Jon Eaton made comments, criticisms, and observations that helped me develop ideas to improve this book’s immediacy and integrity—and also saved me from a monumental blunder that would have had terribly embarrassing consequences for me. And lastly, but never in the least, my wife Eleanor put up with years of frustration and aggravation while this book was being written and marketed, but never gave up and never stopped believing in either it or me, even though there were times, I’m sure, when she felt that she was the last widow of the Titanic.

In every case, the people and institutions mentioned provided me with information or support—or both—of some kind, which makes me responsible for how I used it. If I have done so erroneously, the fault is entirely mine.

aft:
referring to the rear or toward the rear of a ship.

after:
also used to refer to the rear of the ship.

after deck:
the section of upper deck aft of the superstructure.

amidships (midships):
refers to the general area of the center of the ship.

astern:
in the direction of the rear of the ship, or if in reference to a ship’s motion, going backward.

bosun:
a contraction of boatswain (the term boatswain is never used, except by landlubbers); the bosun is the senior seaman on board a ship.

bow:
the front of the ship.

bulkhead:
a structural (i.e., load-bearing) wall in a ship. A nonstructural wall is called a partition.

collapsible:
a now-obsolete form of lifeboat, which had a rigid wooden keel and collapsing (folding) canvas sides, which were held up by iron or steel stays. Collapsible boats were made redundant by the invention of inflatable life rafts.

condenser:
a large machine that cools the steam that has passed through a ship’s engines and condenses it back into water, so that live steam is not being vented from the ship. Alternatively the water can be fed into the boilers again.

davit:
a curved arm that supports a lifeboat while it is being filled, raised, or lowered. The lifeboat’s falls are connected to the davits by means of pulleys.

displacement:
a measure of a ship’s size, expressed by how many tons of water she displaces when she is afloat; in order for a ship to float, the amount of water she displaces must be greater than the actual weight of the ship.

double-ended boiler:
a boiler having fireboxes (furnaces) at both ends.

fall:
the lines by which lifeboats are raised and lowered.

fantail:
an open area at the very stern of a ship.

fo’c’s’le (forecastle):
an ancient term used to denote the forward area of a ship in general, and often identifies the crew’s quarters in that area.

fore:
a shortened form of forward.

foredeck:
a raised section of deck at the forward end of a ship.

forepeak:
the forwardmost compartment of a ship.

forward:
toward the front of a ship.

funnel:
the nautical term for a smokestack—properly speaking, ships never have smokestacks, only funnels.

gangway:
a large double-width doorway in the side of a ship’s hull.

hawse pipe:
an opening in the deck or hull of a ship through which mooring lines or anchor chains are passed.

keel:
the very bottom of the ship; immensely strong, the keel is the main structural member of a ship’s hull.

knot:
a unit of speed and distance; a knot in speed is 1.15 land miles per hour; a knot in distance is 2,000 yards.