And putting aside youth as well as the purely romantic connotations of 'charm', by all accounts the 60-plus ship's surgeon William O'Loughlin could charm the birds off the trees. His friend Edward Titus, who was medical director for the White Star Line, said of him:
He was undoubtedly the finest man I have ever known. Always ready to answer a call for aid at all hours of the day and night, he would go into steerage to attend an ill mother or child, and they would receive as much consideration from him as the wealthiest and mightiest on board, truly honoring his oath as a physician. He was one of the best read men I ever met. Dr. O'Loughlin was always doing some charitable act. Of his income, I believe it will be found that he left little having distributed most of it to the poor. There is no doubt he died as he wished. Once, recently, I said to him that as he was getting on in years, he ought to make a will and leave directions for his burial, as he had no kith or kin. He replied that the only way he wanted to be buried was to be placed in a sack and buried at sea.
Stewardess Violet Jessop was another who drew attention to the wit, charm and generosity of this man whose cabin was adorned with "silver framed photographs of some of the most beautiful and talented women of both hemispheres". She was rather puzzled by the fact that the "good old Irish doctor with a twnkle in his eye" had remained a bachelor all his life despite being "so charming, so kind and so gay". 1912 usage of language there, of course!
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