Titanic and Other Ships By Charles Lightoller

Chapter 32 COLLISION WITH AN ICEBERG

 

I was just about ready for the land of nod, when I felt a sudden vibrating jar run through the ship. Up to this moment she had been steaming with such a pronounced lack of vibration that this sudden break in the steady running was all the more noticeable. Not that it was by any means a violent concussion, but just a distinct and unpleasant break in the monotony of her motion.

I instantly leapt out of my bunk and ran out on deck in my pyjamas; peered over the port side, but could see nothing there; ran across to the starboard side, but neither was there anything there, and as the cold was cutting like a knife, I hopped back into my bunk.

In any case, to go dashing up to the Bridge in night rig, or even properly clothed, when not on duty, was bound to ensure anything but a hearty welcome. Another thing, to be elsewhere than were you are expected to be found, in a ship like that, would result in the man who is sent to call you, being utterly unable to find you. So I just waited.

The time we struck was 12:00 p.m., April 14th of tragic memory, and it was about ten minutes later that the Fourth Officer, Boxhall opened my door, and, seeing me awake, quietly said, "We've hit an iceberg."

I replied, "I know you've hit something." He then said, "The water is up to F Deck in the Mail Room."

That was quite sufficient. Not another word passed. He went out, closing the door, whilst I slipped into some clothes as quickly as possible, and went out on deck.

The decks in a modern liner are lettered from the boat deck downwards, A, B, C, D, E, and so on. The fact of the water having reached "F" deck, showed me she had been badly holed, but, at the time, although I knew it was serious, I had not a thought that it was likely to prove fatal; that knowledge was to come much later.

Up to this time we had had no chance for boat drill, beyond just lowering some of the boats in Southampton. In any case, officers and men in the Mercantile Marine are always impressed with the vital importance of using their own heads, thinking for themselves, and acting on their own initiative in an emergency.

Discipline in a Merchant Ship calls for the highest display of individual intelligence and application. Each man must think for himself. Whereas in the Navy, the Bluejacket must do as he is told, nothing more and nothing less. All perfect in its own way where a man is required to act with machine-like precision, but that won't work in the Merchant Service. If a man does no more than he is told, and makes that an excuse for leaving something undone, unseen or unattended to, he is quickly asked, "What the hell are your brains for?"

The result is that a crew comes aboard a strange ship, and everything seems like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. But there is just this difference between the two Services. Whereas each man in the Senior Service must be fell in, and detailed to his own particular job, to which he has probably been trained for years, but by which method each piece of the jigsaw must await the touch of the Master hand; in the Merchant Service the whole of the pieces shake themselves together with out being "fell in" and "told off." Thus, in an amazingly short space of time, they have all shaken down and become a homogeneous workable unit. If there should be a piece that won't seen to fit, then all I can say is heaven help him!

You may be sure that the crew of the Titanic had been put through a fine sieve, and particular care taken that there were no misfits. The result was that when the call came - not the call of bugles, but the call on every man to exhibit the highest individual effort, intelligence and courage, the response was absolutely universal - not a man failed.

The survivors of that night may thank God that our men did not wait for bugles and pipes. Nevertheless, they put up as fine a show as has ever been done in any sea tragedy in history. The final and conclusive proof lay in the fact that every single boat in the ship was cleared, swung out and safely lowered into the water and got away, without a hitch of any kind.

The ship had been running under a big head of steam, therefore the instant the engines were stopped the steam started roaring off at all eight exhausts, kicking up a row that would have dwarfed the row of a thousand railway engines thundering through a culvert.

All the seamen came tumbling up on the boat deck in response to the order, "All hands on deck" just following the instinct that it was here that they would be required. It was an utter impossibility to convey an order by word of mouth; speech was useless, but a tap on the shoulder and an indication with the hand, dark though it was, was quite sufficient to set the men about the different jobs, clearing away the boat covers, hauling tight the falls and coiling them down on deck, clear and ready for lowering.

The passengers by this time were beginning to flock up on the boat deck, with anxious faces, the appalling din only adding to their anxiety in a situation already terrifying enough in all conscience. In fact it was a marvel how they ever managed to keep their heads at all. All one could do was to give them a cheery smile of encouragement, and hope that the infernal roar would soon stop. My boats were all along the port side, and by the time I had got my Watch well employed, stripping the covers and coiling down, it became obvious to me that the ship was settling. So far she had remained perfectly upright, which was apt to give a false sense of security. Soon the Bosun's Mate came to me and indicated with a wave of his hand that the job I had set him of clearing away was pretty well completed. I nodded, and indicated by a motion of my hand for him to swing out.

The Titanic was fitted with a well-known pattern of davit called the "Welin." In operation it was merely a matter of shipping and manning the handles of the davits, and the boats were quickly swung out. By this time it was clear that the ship was seriously damaged and making a lot of water. She struck the berg well forward of the foremast, and evidently there had been a slight shelf protruding below the water. This pierced her bow as she threw her whole weight on the ice, some actually falling on her fore deck. The impact flung her bow off, but only by the whip or spring of the ship. Again she struck, this time a little further aft. Each blow stove in a plate, below the water line, as the ship had not the inherent strength to resist.

Had it been, for instance, the old Majestic or even the Oceanic the chances are that either of them would have been strong enough to take the blow and be bodily thrown off without serious damage. For instance, coming alongside with the old Majestic, it was no uncommon thing for her to hit a knuckle of the wharf a good healthy bump, but beyond, perhaps, scraping off the paint, no damage was ever done. The same, to a lesser extent with the Oceanic.

Then ships grew in size, out of all proportion to their strength, till one would see a modern liner brought will all the skill and care possible, fall slowly, and ever so gently on a knuckle, to bend and dent a plate like a piece of tin.

That is exactly what happened to the Titanic. She just bump, bump, bumped along the berg, holing herself each time, till she was making water in no less than six compartments, though, unfortunately, we were not to know this until much later. Andrews, the designer, and nephew of the late Lord Pirrie was making the trip with us and it was he, familiar with every nook and corner in her who made a quick tour of inspection with the Carpenter and reported her condition to Captain Smith.

Actually the Titanic was so constructed and divided into watertight compartments that she would float with any two compartments full of water, and the margin of safety made it fairly certain that she would still have floated with even three of the four forward compartments full up. Although the water would have been above the forward watertight bulkheads, it would still have been kept out of the rest of the ship, despite the fact that the forward part of her would have completely submerged. The whole ship would have assumed a fairly acute and mighty uncomfortable angle, yet, even so, she would, in all probability have floated--at least for some considerable time, perhaps all day. Certainly for sufficient time for everyone to be rescued; and, just possibly, until she could have been beached. But she could not remain afloat when she was holed in the forward stokehold as well. That made the fifth compartment counting from forward, that was smashed in by the iceberg, and this finally sealed her fate.

By this time all the boats were swung out she was well down forward and the water was practically level with the main deck. Even so I still had no thought that she was actually going to founder. There had been no chance or time to make enquiries, but I figured up in my own mind that she had probably struck the berg a glancing blow with the bluff of her bow and opened up one or perhaps two of the forward compartments, which were filling and putting her down by the head; also that she would go so far, until she balanced her buoyancy, and there she would remain. Bulkheads were all new and sound and should be able to carry the pressure, and there was no reason to suppose they would not have been equal to their task. All watertight doors had been closed automatically from the bridge, at the time of the collision--all except one place where there was no door, but which, in any case, would not have made any ultimate difference.

Although I was fairly confident in my own mind that she would not sink, one has no right to risk an error of judgment that may entail loss of life, particularly when it is the case of the passengers you are carrying. They are your trust and must at all times be your first consideration, to the total elimination of all personal feelings, or personal impressions. It was fortunate we played for safety, for, as it turned out, she was holed in no less than six compartments along the starboard side, and nothing could have saved her.

Having got the boats swung out, I made for the Captain and happened to meet him near by on the boat deck. Drawing him into a corner, and cupping both my hands over my mouth and his ear, I yelled at the top of my voice, "Hadn't we better get the women and children into the boats, sir?" He heard me, and nodded reply. One of my reasons for suggesting getting the boats afloat was, that I could see a steamer's steaming lights a couple of miles away on our port bow. If I could get the women and children into the boats, they would be perfectly safe in that smooth sea until the other ship picked them up; if the necessity arose. My idea was that I would lower the boats with a few people in each, and when safely in the water fill them up from the gangway doors on the lower decks, and transfer them to the other ship.

Although boats and falls were all brand new, it is a risky business at the best of times to attempt to lower a boat between seventy and eighty feet at night time, filled with people who are not "boatwise." It is, unfortunately, the rule rather than the exception for some mishap to occur in lowering boats loaded with people who, through no fault of their own, lack this boat sense. In addition, the strain is almost too much to expect of boats and falls under ordinary conditions.

However, having got Captain Smith's sanction, I indicated to the Bosun's Mate, and we lowered down the first boat level with the boat deck, and, just at this time, thank heaven, the frightful din of escaping steam suddenly stopped, and there was a death-like silence a thousand times more exaggerated, fore and aft the ship. It was almost startling to hear one's own voice again after the appalling din of the last half hour or so.

I got just on forty people into No 4 boat, and gave the order to "lower away," and for the boat to "go up to the gangway door" with the idea of filling each boat as it became afloat, to its full capacity. At the same time I told the Bosun's Mate to take six hands and open the port lower-deck gangway door, which was abreast of No. 2 hatch. He took his men and proceeded to carry out the order, but neither he or the men were seen again. One can only suppose that they gave their lives endeavouring to carry out this order, probably they were trapped in the alley-way by a rush of water, but by this time the fo'c'sle head was within about ten feet of the water. Yet I still had hope that we should save her.

Passing along to No 6 boat to load and lower, I could hear the band playing cheery sort of music. I don't like jazz music as a rule, but I was glad to hear it that night. I think it helped us all.

Wireless signals for help had been broadcast over the ocean ever since the first impact, and ships were coming to our aid. It was excusable that in some cases the Officer of the Watch on some ships could hardly credit his senses, or believe the wireless operator when told that the Titanic - that wonder of all mercantile wonders was sinking in mid-Atlantic, and sending out calls for assistance.

The wireless operator of the Virginian told me that when he reported the fact to this Officer of the Watch, he was literally chucked off the bridge, for trying to play what the O.O.W. was a practical joke; it was only as he was being pushed past the chart-room door, preparatory to being shot down the bridge ladder, that he landed out with his foot, and gave a terrific kick on the panel of the door. The wireless operator knew that the Captain was asleep in the chart-room, and that this crash would bring him out with a jump. The Officer of the Watch also realised when the report was officially made to the Captain, that it was no joke, and that the Titanic was truly in a bad way. They at once altered course and made all speed towards us.

On the Titanic passengers naturally kept coming up and asking, did I consider the situation serious. In all cases I tried to cheer them up, by telling them "No," but that it was a matter of precaution to get the boats in the water, ready for any emergency. That in any case that they were perfectly safe, as there was a ship not more than a few miles away, and I pointed out the lights on the port bow which they could see as well as I could.

At this time we were firing rocket distress signals, which explode with a loud report a couple of hundred feet in the air. Every minute or two one of these went up, bursting overhead with a cascade of stars.

"Why were we firing these signals, if there was no danger:" was the question, to which I replied that we were trying to call the attention of the ship nearby, as we could not get her with wireless. That ship was the "Californian." Here again we were to see exemplified what has become almost proverbial at sea, that in cases of disaster, one ship, the first on the scene, will be in a position to rescue, and yet, through some circumstance or combination of circumstances, fails to make that rescue.

The distress signals we fired were seen by the Officer of the Watch on the Californian, also be several members of her crew. Even the flashes from our Morse lamp were seen but finally judged to be "Just the mast-head light flickering." Though at one time the thought evidently did arise that we were trying to call them.

To let pass the possibility of a ship calling by Morse, in the existing circumstances then surrounding her was bad enough; but to mistake distress signals was inexcusable, and to ignore them, criminal. In point of fact, the O.O.W. alone saw and counted, five distress signals (or, as he reported them to Captain Lord, "five white rockets"). Evidently the Captain's curiosity was more than a little aroused for him to ask, "Are they company's signals?" To which the O.O.W. replied that he did not know, but that they "Appear to me to be white rockets." Captain Lord merely told him to "go on Morsing," and if he received any further information to send it down to him.

It is an unqualified fact that every single one of our distress signals--unmistakable and urgent calls for help, were clearly seen by the Californian. These signals are never made, except in cases of dire necessity. The O.O.W. of the Californian fully appreciated this fact as was evidenced by his remark to the Apprentice on watch with him, "A ship is not going to fire rockets at sea for nothing."

Shortly after counting eight "rockets" he again sent down word to the Captain, with the added rider to the Apprentice, "be sure to wake him and tell him that altogether we have seen eight of these white lights, like rockets, in the direction of this other steamer."

Precisely at 2:40 a.m. this Officer of the Watch again called Captain Lord, this time by voice pipe, and told him that the ship from which he had seen the rockets, had disappeared.

He spoke truly. A great sea tragedy had be consummated before his very eyes.

 

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