Voices from the Titanic (43 page)
Read Voices from the Titanic Online
Authors: Geoff Tibballs
Mrs Saunders, of Albert Road, mourns the loss of a son who had been a âgood boy' to her. He had followed the sea for some years, having been transferred from the
Adriatic
to the
Olympic
. Lately he had been unwell, and dropped out of the
Olympic
. When he recovered, he was transferred to the
Titanic
. Mrs Saunders said she had suffered terribly from anxiety. âI have bought two and three papers a day in the hope of seeing his name among the saved, but it seems that I shall never see him again.'
In the case of C. Mills (saved), of the same thoroughfare, it appeared that his only son sailed in the R.M.S.P.
Tagus
on the same day that the father left in the
Titanic
. The lad was just beginning his sea career, and he left his father on Wednesday in high spirits. Mills was on the
Olympic
at the time of the collision in the Solent with the cruiser
Hawke
. Another butcher, H. G. Hensford, living in Malmesbury Road, would have reached his twenty-seventh birthday on Wednesday. He was married about three months ago.
Three consecutive houses in Threefield Lane were keenly concerned. In one, a fireman named McRae has left a wife and two children; next door, a young man named Dilley had been a lodger; and in the third house had lived a young man named King, who perished in the disaster. A little lower down an able seaman, named Bradley, resided, and he has left a widow, and there were other cases in the street.
Inquiries in Chantry Road led to the discovery that in one house there resided four men, all of whom signed to sail in the
Titanic
, but arrived at the quay-side too late to get on board. They were the three brothers Slade and another trimmer named Penney. They left home together to go to the ship, but when they arrived the gangway had been removed, and they were told they could go home again. Mrs Slade was seen by our representative, and her first words were, âWhat a good job they missed their ship! I have thanked God for it ever since.' âHow did they miss the boat?' was asked. âI can't tell you exactly, but they left home in good time. Somehow or other my boys did not seem very keen on going in the ship. You may not believe in dreams, but I am telling you the truth when I say that one of my boys had a dream about the boat the night before sailing-day, and he afterwards said that he had a dread of her. I knew they were not very keen on going, but nevertheless they went down. The engineer called to them to get on board, but for some reason they didn't go. The boys had had a great deal of unemployment lately. Mr Penney has been out of work since just before Christmas, and my eldest boy has only earned £2 10s in four months.'
In other houses in Chantry Road there was keen sorrow for lost ones. A greaser named Kearl has left a wife and one young son, and two men named Clench and Edwards, residing at No. 10, have perished. The most distressing case in the district, however, was discovered in Endle Street, where the wife of a fireman named F. Wardner has been left with a family of eight young children. The youngest was but a few months old, and Wardner had lately been out of a ship. He was in the
Olympic
when she and the
Hawke
collided, but during the last six weeks he has been out of work. He took the job on the
Titanic
somewhat eagerly in consequence, and has lost his life. Another fireman, named Bennett, who went down on the
Titanic
, also served on the
Olympic
at the time of the collision. He helped to support his father and mother, and has a brother on the
Armadale Castle
.
There are two or three cases in which brothers have died together. In Cawte Road an old sea captain has to mourn the loss of two sons, whilst of two step-brothers, Fredk. Dall, of Richmond Street, and Charles Olive, of College Street â the latter is believed to have perished. In Ryde Terrace, an aged couple named Perry feared that they had lost their two sons, who were their sole source of support, but the name of one appears in the list of survivors.
No doubt there are many distressing cases in other parts of the town, but the foregoing will serve to indicate the severity of the blow which has fallen on Southampton.
(
Southampton Times and Hampshire Express
, 20 April 1912)
Not since the wreck of the
Birkenhead
, when brave troops lined up on the side of the deck of the sinking ship, and went down at the salute to a watery grave, has there been so stirring an exhibition of sublime heroism as that shown by the bandsmen of the
Titanic
.
From narratives of survivors it is clear that after the liner crashed into the iceberg, and it was deemed advisable to transfer the women to the boats. the band lined up on deck and began to play operatic and other lively airs in order to allay any excitement among the passengers.
Few among those on board at that time realized that the ship was doomed, but when the worst became known, and lifeboats were making away for safety, the spirit of the music was changed, and the beautiful hymn, âNearer, my God, to Thee', was played with deep religious feeling by the bandsmen as the ship was fast sinking. It was a fitting end to a solemn and terrible tragedy.
The leader of the orchestra, Mr Wallace Hartley, of Dewsbury, whose aged parents, though terribly distressed by the loss of their son, are proud to think that he faced the end with such courage.
He toured for three years with the Carl Rosa Opera Co. and for three years with the Moody-Manners Co.
Attracted by the possibilities and the pay on board an ocean liner, he secured the post of bandmaster with the Cunard Co., and was on the
Mauretania
and the
Lusitania
.
When he arrived back in Liverpool on Tuesday week Mr Black, the musical director for the Cunard and White Star Companies, asked him to direct the orchestra of eight for the
Titanic
's first voyage.
Mr Hartley was not anxious, according to the father, to accept the offer, but finally agreed to go, and proceeded to Southampton only a day after his arrival in Liverpool.
After every voyage his sweetheart, Miss Robinson, eldest daughter of the late Mr Robinson, a well-known Holbech manufacturer, was in the habit of meeting him at Liverpool, and Mr Hartley invariably paid a visit to his parents at Dewsbury. He had resolved to leave the sea and to marry in about three months' time.
(
Liverpool Evening Express
, 20 April 1912)
SURVIVOR WEDS OREGON MAN
Fiancé Missed Her at the Pier and Did Not Locate Her Until Friday
Miss Marion Wright, a young Englishwoman, one of the rescued
Titanic
's passengers, was married at 11 o'clock yesterday morning in St Christopher's Chapel at No. 211 Fulton Street, to Arthur Woolcott, a fruit grower of Cottage Grove, Oregon. There is romance for you.
Engaged to Mr Woolcott for the past year, Miss Wright came from her home in Yeovil, Somerset, England, to marry him here. He, to meet her when the
Titanic
arrived, came from Oregon to this city last Monday.
Imagination is not capable of drawing the picture of last Monday morning â Mr Woolcott starting white-faced from his breakfast at the Grand Union Hotel, and Miss Wright looking hopelessly from her seat in a lifeboat upon a sea of ice cakes, that did not promise even the faintest hope of rescue. Neither then expected to meet the other again.
Mr Woolcott is 32; his bride 26. When the young man learnt that the
Titanic
had sunk he sought to learn the names of the saved, but the list was slow in coming, and when it was flashed by wireless there were so many errors it was imprudent to even hope that his sweetheart, who was in the second cabin, had escaped. At length the tension lessened with authoritative news.
Among the first to stand watch at the Cunard pier on Thursday night was Woolcott. His fiancée had been unable to get through to him a wireless message saying that her health was unimpaired. He heard all of the wild rumours flying about the pier that scores of survivors were dying on the
Carpathia
, and that others were hopelessly maimed.
Keen-eyed though he was, Woolcott did not see the young woman leave the ship. Frantically he rushed onto the vessel. He was told that Miss Wright had landed. He did not believe it. He believed then that she had been lost and that this fact had been concealed through an error in the wireless.
Miss Wright, on failing to see her sweetheart, roamed around the pier, but she could not find Woolcott. Then she went to No. 204 West 128th Street with Mrs Bessie Watt of Edinburgh, and the latter's daughter, Bertha, 14, both of whom had been saved from the
Titanic
.
This was not known to Woolcott. From the Grand Union Hotel he called up all of the hospitals and vainly asked for his fiancée. Miss Wright, unable to explain his failure to find her, called up all of the hotels. On Friday afternoon, while he was still searching anxiously for her, she learnt that he was stopping at the Grand Union. She left her address. When he returned, practically heart-broken, to the hotel in the evening, the information was given to him. He went to No. 204 West 128th Street and his fiancée answered the ring at the door.
Yesterday morning they secured a marriage licence at the City Hall. Mrs Watt and her brother, Harry Milne, went with them. The Rev. J. Wilson Sutton accompanied them to St Christopher's Chapel and performed the ceremony.
âShe was very cool,' said Mr Sutton in speaking about it after-wards. âShe could not have been less frightened at the prospect of matrimony than if she had to experience another
Titanic
wreck.'
(
New York World
, 21 April 1912)
TITANIC
STRUCK
That First Officer Murdoch of the
Titanic
committed suicide because he had known a quarter of an hour before she struck that the liner was headed for an iceberg was only one detail of the story told by Thomas Whiteley, first saloon steward, to a
World
reporter last night. Whiteley is at St Vincent's Hospital receiving treatment for feet and legs frostbitten and bruised by the falls of a boat tackle on the night of the disaster.
People lingered long over their dinners Sunday night, he said. Just before the doors closed at 9.30 Chief Surgeon O'Laughlin got up in his chair at the head of his table, which was next to the one I served. In his hand was a glass of champagne.
âHere's to the mighty
Titanic
!' he said. âLong may she defy the seas!'
Captain Smith dined as usual at the head of his own table, Mr Andrews on his right, on his left a very beautiful woman who always wore white furs of great richness, but whose name I did not know. Mr Ismay during the whole trip sat at one of the small tables for two persons. Throughout the voyage he was always served by the head waiter; always he ate alone.
When the alarm was rung we began rounding up people and started the boats off, beginning forward on the port side and working around to the starboard, from aft to forward. John Jacob Astor could not have helped anyone into boats after Mrs Astor was put into the lifeboat, for no one was allowed to do that but the people of the ship. But I saw him just outside the smoking room. I knew him well, for he sat at the next table to mine in the saloon.
âSteward,' he said to me, âare we going to pull through?'
âDon't you doubt it, sir,' I answered, âshe's good for seven or eight hours yet.' We all believed she was practically unsinkable.
He took out his cigarette case and handed me a cigarette. Then he lit one himself. I saw him go into the smoking room and sit down. It was only a few minutes later that the end came. I believe Mr Astor met his death there.
The last boat was just pulling off. The order had come to slash the falls and all but one was cut. I was told to leap for it. My foot, as I went over the side, caught in the fall and I was badly burnt, though I never found it out till I reached the
Carpathia
. Of course I went down. Somehow I cut myself loose from that rope and arose amidst a lot of wreckage as the
Titanic
was sinking. Four Italians and I clung to a state room wardrobe that floated up from the wreck. One by one, the others dropped off, overcome by the cold.
Then I drifted near the overturned boat of Second Officer Lightoller. There was no room for me. By and by one of the men died and I took his place. As we stood there, each man holding on to his neighbour's shoulders, fearful every moment that some lurch would send me off again into that icy water, two of the men I knew had been on watch in the crow's nest that night spoke up.
âIt's no wonder Mr Murdoch shot himself,' said one to the other. I asked them why.
âFrom the crow's nest we sighted the iceberg that hit us at 11.15,' he replied. âI at once reported it to Mr Murdoch. It was not white, but a sort of bluish colour, plainly distinguishable against the clear sky. Twice afterwards I reported the berg to Mr Murdoch. I could not see that he at all varied the
Titanic
's course. He knew he should have changed his course. He shot himself because he knew it.'
Now, I carry an old gold watch of my father's that has always kept fair time, and that I was in the habit of setting every day by the ship's time. My watch showed 11.30 when the ship struck. The time I read here in the newspapers must be wrong. I believe from that that Mr Murdoch must have known about the iceberg a quarter of an hour before we struck.
(
New York World
, 21 April 1912)
'S ENGINES RACING TOP SPEED WHEN SHE HIT
Two injured members of the
Titanic
's crew in the infirmary of St Vincent's Hospital believe they hold between them the key to the two vital facts of her disaster. John Thompson, fireman, with a broken arm, occupies the cot next to Thomas Whiteley, first saloon steward, who in yesterday's
World
testified that First Officer Murdoch shot himself because he had known a quarter of an hour before she struck that the
Titanic
was headed for an iceberg. Whiteley told the
World
reporter yesterday that he had not a word to add or take away from that statement or any other in his narrative.
