The Loss of the S.S. Titanic, Lawrence Beesley [best romantic novels to read TXT] 📗

CHAPTER VI

THE SINKING OF THE TITANIC SEEN FROM HER DECK

 

The two preceding chapters have been to a large extent the narrative

of a single eyewitness and an account of the escape of one boat only

from the Titanic’s side. It will be well now to return to the Titanic

and reconstruct a more general and complete account from the

experiences of many people in different parts of the ship. A

considerable part of these experiences was related to the writer first

hand by survivors, both on board the Carpathia and at other times, but

some are derived from other sources which are probably as accurate as

first-hand information. Other reports, which seemed at first sight to

have been founded on the testimony of eyewitnesses, have been found on

examination to have passed through several hands, and have therefore

been rejected. The testimony even of eyewitnesses has in some cases

been excluded when it seemed not to agree with direct evidence of a

number of other witnesses or with what reasoned judgment considered

probable in the circumstances. In this category are the reports of

explosions before the Titanic sank, the breaking of the ship in two

parts, the suicide of officers. It would be well to notice here that

the Titanic was in her correct course, the southerly one, and in the

position which prudence dictates as a safe one under the ordinary

conditions at that time of the year: to be strictly accurate she was

sixteen miles south of the regular summer route which all companies

follow from January to August.

 

Perhaps the real history of the disaster should commence with the

afternoon of Sunday, when Marconigrams were received by the Titanic

from the ships ahead of her, warning her of the existence of icebergs.

In connection with this must be taken the marked fall of temperature

observed by everyone in the afternoon and evening of this day as well

as the very low temperature of the water. These have generally been

taken to indicate that without any possibility of doubt we were near

an iceberg region, and the severest condemnation has been poured on

the heads of the officers and captain for not having regard to these

climatic conditions; but here caution is necessary. There can be

little doubt now that the low temperature observed can be traced to

the icebergs and ice-field subsequently encountered, but experienced

sailors are aware that it might have been observed without any

icebergs being near. The cold Labrador current sweeps down by

Newfoundland across the track of Atlantic liners, but does not

necessarily carry icebergs with it; cold winds blow from Greenland and

Labrador and not always from icebergs and ice-fields. So that falls in

temperature of sea and air are not prima facie evidence of the close

proximity of icebergs. On the other hand, a single iceberg separated

by many miles from its fellows might sink a ship, but certainly would

not cause a drop in temperature either of the air or water. Then, as

the Labrador current meets the warm Gulf Stream flowing from the Gulf

of Mexico across to Europe, they do not necessarily intermingle, nor

do they always run side by side or one on top of the other, but often

interlaced, like the fingers of two hands. As a ship sails across this

region the thermometer will record within a few miles temperatures of

34�, 58�, 35�, 59�, and so on.

 

It is little wonder then that sailors become accustomed to place

little reliance on temperature conditions as a means of estimating the

probabilities of encountering ice in their track. An experienced

sailor has told me that nothing is more difficult to diagnose than the

presence of icebergs, and a strong confirmation of this is found in

the official sailing directions issued by the Hydrographic Department

of the British Admiralty. “No reliance can be placed on any warning

being conveyed to the mariner, by a fall in temperature, either of sea

or air, of approaching ice. Some decrease in temperature has

occasionally been recorded, but more often none has been observed.”

 

But notification by Marconigram of the exact location of icebergs is a

vastly different matter. I remember with deep feeling the effect this

information had on us when it first became generally known on board

the Carpathia. Rumours of it went round on Wednesday morning, grew to

definite statements in the afternoon, and were confirmed when one of

the Titanic officers admitted the truth of it in reply to a direct

question. I shall never forget the overwhelming sense of hopelessness

that came over some of us as we obtained definite knowledge of the

warning messages. It was not then the unavoidable accident we had

hitherto supposed: the sudden plunging into a region crowded with

icebergs which no seaman, however skilled a navigator he might be,

could have avoided! The beautiful Titanic wounded too deeply to

recover, the cries of the drowning still ringing in our ears and the

thousands of homes that mourned all these calamities—none of all

these things need ever have been!

 

It is no exaggeration to say that men who went through all the

experiences of the collision and the rescue and the subsequent scenes

on the quay at New York with hardly a tremor, were quite overcome by

this knowledge and turned away, unable to speak; I for one, did so,

and I know others who told me they were similarly affected.

 

I think we all came to modify our opinions on this matter, however,

when we learnt more of the general conditions attending trans-Atlantic

steamship services. The discussion as to who was responsible for these

warnings being disregarded had perhaps better be postponed to a later

chapter. One of these warnings was handed to Mr. Ismay by Captain

Smith at 5 P.M. and returned at the latter’s request at 7 P.M., that

it might be posted for the information of officers; as a result of the

messages they were instructed to keep a special lookout for ice. This,

Second Officer Lightoller did until he was relieved at 10 P.M. by

First Officer Murdock, to whom he handed on the instructions. During

Mr. Lightoller’s watch, about 9 P.M., the captain had joined him on

the bridge and discussed “the time we should be getting up towards the

vicinity of the ice, and how we should recognize it if we should see

it, and refreshing our minds on the indications that ice gives when it

is in the vicinity.” Apparently, too, the officers had discussed among

themselves the proximity of ice and Mr. Lightoller had remarked that

they would be approaching the position where ice had been reported

during his watch. The lookouts were cautioned similarly, but no ice

was sighted until a few minutes before the collision, when the lookout

man saw the iceberg and rang the bell three times, the usual signal

from the crow’s nest when anything is seen dead-ahead.

 

By telephone he reported to the bridge the presence of an iceberg, but

Mr. Murdock had already ordered Quartermaster Hichens at the wheel to

starboard the helm, and the vessel began to swing away from the berg.

But it was far too late at the speed she was going to hope to steer

the huge Titanic, over a sixth of a mile long, out of reach of danger.

Even if the iceberg had been visible half a mile away it is doubtful

whether some portion of her tremendous length would not have been

touched, and it is in the highest degree unlikely that the lookout

could have seen the berg half a mile away in the conditions that

existed that night, even with glasses. The very smoothness of the

water made the presence of ice a more difficult matter to detect. In

ordinary conditions the dash of the waves against the foot of an

iceberg surrounds it with a circle of white foam visible for some

distance, long before the iceberg itself; but here was an oily sea

sweeping smoothly round the deadly monster and causing no indication

of its presence.

 

There is little doubt, moreover, that the crow’s nest is not a good

place from which to detect icebergs. It is proverbial that they adopt

to a large extent the colour of their surroundings; and seen from

above at a high angle, with the black, foam-free sea behind, the

iceberg must have been almost invisible until the Titanic was close

upon it. I was much struck by a remark of Sir Ernest Shackleton on his

method of detecting icebergs—to place a lookout man as low down near

the waterline as he could get him. Remembering how we had watched the

Titanic with all her lights out, standing upright like “an enormous

black finger,” as one observer stated, and had only seen her thus

because she loomed black against the sky behind her, I saw at once how

much better the sky was than the black sea to show up an iceberg’s

bulk. And so in a few moments the Titanic had run obliquely on the

berg, and with a shock that was astonishingly slight—so slight that

many passengers never noticed it—the submerged portion of the berg

had cut her open on the starboard side in the most vulnerable portion