... Meeting Mrs Burton at church one day, she asked if I would join Mr. and Mrs Williams [Mr Fletcher Lambert Williams] at her home for dinner. "Thank you, Mrs Burton, it would be a pleasure!"
Fletcher Lambert Williams was Taylor's former business partner. He managed the British arm of their buiness which manfactured paper cups and containers for milk and cream. Taylor had resigned from the board to expand the busness into the U.S. but when he tried to rejoin it was blocked by Williams leading to some friction between them.
At that dinner, Williams and I buried the hatchet, smoked the pipe of peace, and following the dinner we agreed to go to the USA to revive a sick Mono.
Taylor and Williams' company, the Mono Paper Cup Company
Williams undertook to look up sailings and arrange for passage. In a few days he wrote me from Southbourne [a small town near Bournemouth, England where Williams had bought a property], he had booked an inside cabin number C125 midship on "C" deck for myself and my wife and an outside cabin number C102 on the same deck further aft for himself, sailing from Southampton Wednesday, April 10, 1912 on the SS "Titanic".
These cabin numbers differ slightly from those recorded for these passengers in The Cave List.
THE "TITANIC" DISASTER
By this time, we had developed a modified form of Colonel Holgate's technique of commuting between England and the USA.
Taylor is referring to the globe-trotting exploits of a former business associate, mentioned earlier in the manuscript: Col. George H. Holgate (1842-1917), patent solicitor and President of the "Association of American Inventors".
We made our initial transatlantic voyage on the SS Belgenland (6,000 tons [sic]), sailing from Philadelphia on March 5, 1898. She must have been an old steamer at that time. Captain Thompson, commander; Ben Priest, Purser. 13 days to Liverpool for $35 each.
The SS Belgenland had a gross registered tonnnage of 3,873, and was nearly 20 years old having been launched on 24 December 1878.
To me, it seemed Ben Priest and Colonel Holgate managed the entire outfit, planned meals with food that tasted like pine coffins smell, staged recreations, drank and smoked, cussed and discussed everything and everybody together. We had one of the best cabins [The Taylors and Holgate were actually listed as Second Class passengers for this voyage] – bunks, a tin wash basin, tin water pitcher and galvanised bucket for slops. They had a novel way of illuminating the cabin. A hole was cut in the walls (corridor side) about 6 feet from the floor, exactly in the centre of a partition dividing two cabins. By hanging an oil lantern in the hole on the corridor side, it served to light the passageway and two cabins.
In the dining room were two long tables, one on either side of the ship, and as all passengers could be seated at one table, we were placed in the order of arrival, edging in either from one end or the other, with our backs to the side of the ship. Whatever may be said of that particular voyage, it was most enjoyable, an experience never to be forgotten – at first, if you know what I mean.
We booked our return voyage in June on the maiden voyage of the Kaiser Frederick Der Grosse, rejected by Norddeutscher Lloyd after the maiden trip and later sold to Russia and sent to the bottom by the japs in the Russian-Japanese war (1904)
Taylor seems to be confusing the Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse and the Kaiser Friedrich, the latter's maiden voyage from Bremerhaven to New York began 7 June 1898, and Taylor and his wife are listed as 'Cabin' passengers joining at Southampton on 8 June 1898. However the Kaiser Friedrich was not sold to Russia, nor sunk during the Russo-Japanese War of 1904, it was laid up for several years before eventually being renamed the Burdigala and sank after striking a mine in 1915.
Returning a month later on the SS Umbria and down to 1912, we had crossed on the Majestic, Celtic, Lahn, City of Rome, Minnetonka, St. Louis, St. Paul, Baltic, Ivernia, New York, Carmania, Lorentic [sic, Laurentic], Mauretania and Olympic. For some unknown reason, we had been unable to book on the then blue ribbon [sic, Blue Riband] Greyhounds of the Atlantic, the Campania and the Lucania.
We were now anticipating an experience on a luxury liner, the last word in shipbuilding.
- - - - - - -
The boat train from Waterloo was scheduled to leave about 8:00 am. We took a "growler" from Whitehall Hotel, 8 Montague Street, W.C., and when we arrived at Waterloo, three people were getting out of another "growler" just ahead of us. I took a look, and said to my wife, "What oh! John D. Is going along with us."
Growler was a colloquial term for a closed four-wheeled horse-drawn carriage, also known as a "Clarence".
Taylor does not elaborate on who "John D." was, but it could be he thought he had seen John D. Rockefeller (1839-1937)
Securing a porter, we moved along the platform without luggage, to find every compartment marked "Engaged" or "Occupied". Finally I dropped a half-crown in the conductor's hand, and asked him to find us seats. Much to my surprise, he unlocked the door of a compartment in which were seated next the corridor the two ladies we saw getting out of the "growler". The old gentleman finally came along with a half a dozen roses the kind with long stems and single buds at the top. As soon as he entered, [the] mother said (Mid-West twang) "I thought you reserved a compartment for us." "So I did," was his reply. Well, it was not long before we began to move along. The old gentleman seated opposite me on the window side fumbled with a cigar in his waistcoat pocket, anxious to have his morning smoke, and as we were in a "no smoking" compartment, I said, "Go ahead, my friend, and light up, and if you don't mind, I will join you."
They had many small parcels – last-minute shopping, I thought. As we rolled along, I began to point out places of interest, Houses of Parliament, Lambeth Palace, Doulton's Pottery Works, this and that. Breaking the ice in this informal way, the ladies softened, became friendly, and long before we reached Southampton, we were a family party.
As the train pulled on the dock in Southampton, I offered to help them with their parcels, carried all I could to the steamer, and there we parted.
We sailed about noon. That 45,000 ton steamer, 882.2 feet long, breath 92.6 feet, fitted with powerful turbine and reciprocating engines was a huge mass to move. Lines were casted off, and tugs pulled us away from the quay until we were fairly in the clear. The signal was then given to go ahead. Those powerful engines began to pile water up astern, creating a swift current, more than the entire length of the steamer, without perceptively overcoming the inertia of that great mass.
An American Line steamer moored at the quay forward of us snapped one hawser after another until she was adrift and coming toward us rapidly. Before the engine could be stopped, she passed not more than 20 feet from our stern. Another steamer snapped a hawser, but remained put. When the mild excitement of a collision ceased and the consequent delay was over, we were finally moving with the engines barely turning, but it wasn't long before we were in Southampton water with enough leeway to safely proceed at full speed.
For more about the Titanic's near collision with the SS New York in Southampton Water see The New York Incident.
At tea, served in the Reception Room, saloon deck "D", I said to friend Williams, "I'll introduce you to a nice-looking girl, and if you play your part, you will have a companion for the entire voyage." "Oh yes, how come!" The party we met on the train were sitting not far away, so I went over to ask if I could introduce a friend. "Certainly, come over and have tea with us." Before we had finished tea, we had asked the purser to give us a table for six: Mr. and Mrs. Crosby and daughter, Mr and Mrs Taylor and Mr Williams.
Edward Gifford Crosby, his wife Catherine and their daughter Harriette.
- - - - - - -
It was an agreeable party. The Crosby's had been travelling through Europe, making London their last stop. They were Milwaukee people. He owned and operated the Crosby Line steamers on Lake Michigan. We had much in common, and I was not disappointed to learn that he was not John D., As I thought when I first saw him. He was interested in diesel engines, in mechanics and business. The young lady had been abroad to finish her musical education – a perfect model for a magazine cover, attractive, vivacious, with a good, modulated voice. Mother was rather "high hat", I thought – one of those tourists who flaunt their social position.
Taylor seems to imply that Miss Crosby was a young girl just out of school but she was 39 years old, divorced and the mother of a barely two-month-old baby girl.
Table conversations were usually in a serious mood. Williams, like myself and my wife, had been regularly attending Christian Science services, even back in the Bryanston Street days, and the Crosby's had attended C.S lectures and meetings in their hometown at times, we were almost the last people to leave the dining room, discussing perhaps man's greatest engineering skill, as reflected in the SS "Titanic".
Taylor explained earlier in the manuscript that he and Williams had first met at a Christian Science meeting at the Aeolian Hall on Bond Street, London.
- - - - - - -
The ship, as a whole, revealed the result of generations of skill, labor and ingenuity. It did not take one behind the scenes and introduced the master mind which first conceived the idea or mental impression of building ships, especially ships made of materials that would not float on water.
The eye could not find or locate the one mind which conceived the "Titanic", designate the place or time where an individual convinced others to undertake financing and building the ship, the manner in which mortal mind originated a thought from which thousands upon thousands of thoughts from others were projected on drawing boards, thoughts rendered visible by the artisans working in all parts of the world.
From a nucleus, radiation is embodying the idea spread in all directions, grew wider and wider as they, in turn, threw off branches allocated to specialists and even on these stems were grafted mental and physical effort, all forming an orderly pattern, each carrying responsibility long since detached from the nucleus.
Take, for example, a window called a "Port Hole". Ships had been provided with port holes of a set pattern for generations, but some advanced engineer declared the pattern and use obsolete, set about simplifying the construction and making it easier to open and close, safer in rough seas and providing some method of ventilation at all times.
Does one look through the glass of a port hole, or at it? I do not question the marvels that may be seen looking through the glass or the benefits of the sun's rays passing through it, but to look under at the glass and jot down one's impressions would take one back thousands of years, take one back to the Stone Age when primitive man sort obsidian (natures glass) for edged tools used as a means of fashioning those things he left to posterity. Looking at the glass might direct one's thoughts to mining sandstone, reducing it to uniform grains, washing, cleansing, separating pure silica from foreign matter, to organised industry for marketing the product, to packaging and transportation, to white hot furnaces heated by fuel, supplied by another stem of the nucleus, then another stem providing the furnace, the lining, controlled of operations, the many branches of skilled labor, all essential and necessary to provide a transparent medium selected by experienced purchasers for the benefit of passengers.
The bronze frame in which the glass is mounted would take one back, if you are interested in its origin, to Malay for tin, Montana for copper, South Jersey for moulding sand, skilled artisans for other supplies and the mechanics to unite and make the metal visible, as one sees it.
Our discussions and conversations sometimes continued as we took a coffee in the Reception Room adjoining the Dining Room.
Who would take time to understand that the engineers really built two hulls, one inside the other, separated in places sufficient to permit workmen to walk erect between the inner and a hull? The outer hull could be pierced, but the inner hull would prevent or limit flooding, because between these two hulls were divisions of steel, much like an egg box or ice trays in modern refrigerators. In this masterpiece of engineering with 30 watertight compartments, and I think three bulkheads, dividing the length of the ship in four parts, each of which would float if cut asunder.
There were steel doors in these bulkheads that could be opened and closed at will from the navigator's quarters on the bridge. I recall explaining to Williams how the gears, levers and gadgets on one of these doors operated from the bridge. A sailor who overheard the conversation stepped up and said, "Sir, you are right for the most part, but this door has not been connected. They did not have time to complete all the work before we sailed."
Suppose on one of our streamlined trains I had explained to Williams how the Westinghouse air brake stopped the train and was then told the connecting hose had not been put on, what would happen when an attempt was made to stop the train? "Use the handbrake." Yes, of course, and so they could close the door by hand, but would they in an emergency?
To give you some idea of the proportions of this ship, "C" deck, on which our cabins were located, was 40 feet above the waterline, and the boat deck added another 35 feet. It was, and still is, impractical to put together steel structures almost 900 feet long, 104 feet high; keel to bridge, 92 feet wide, rigid enough to keep the mass from bending. Therefore, the top half of the structure is actually built as separate sections, but attached to the bottom half, leaving vertical spaces of some inches between the sections. These spaces are covered and so well obscured they are not visible except to those who have eyes to see.
When the bow and stern are supported on the crest of huge waves, the structure sags in the centre. Likewise, when the ship is supported in the centre by huge waves, the structure is bent in the opposite direction. In a rough sea, the plates covering these spaces or expansion joints slide back and forth much as the expansion joints on the old Brooklyn Bridge slide back and forth as a trolley car passes over the bridge, or as the summer heat and winter cold length or shorten the suspending cables.
By one means or another, engineering skill had stepped up travelers' comfort to an A la carte restaurant, Turkish, electric, and swimming baths, gymnasiums, squash racquet courts, clothes pressing, cleaning and laundry, lounge, reception rooms, passenger elevators, palm court, electric heaters, real beds (not bunks, hot and cold running water, panelled white walls and ceiling, custom made upholstered armchairs, wardrobes – well, what else could one want?
The brother of my esteemed friend Clarissa Smith had suggested it might be interesting to scrutinise the woodwork, panelling, carvings, etc. Throughout the public rooms, the disposition of interior space and disguises used to create a home like feeling, a hotel-like atmosphere, while getting away from steamer consciousness inside the ship and enhancing life at sea on decks.
Williams and I nosed about between our discussion of plans to resuscitate a Wheezy Mono Company in Newark, New Jersey. We were particularly impressed with a new type davit, the apparent ease of launching lifeboats accommodating as many as 80 people by simply turning a crank until the lifeboat was level with the deck and additional assurance of efficiency in emergencies – a really great improvement over that old type davit which made it necessary to lift the lifeboat by rope tackle and shuttle it back-and-forth until it was in position to lower to the edge of the deck.
We admired the especially designed custom-made furniture, the floor coverings, wall decorations, palms and semi-tropical plants, the huge fat green pillows in the music room, of which I will have more to say later.
- - - - - - -
We were mildly interested in the passenger list; many of the names were internationally known – Colonel John Jacob Astor, Isador Straus, C.M. Hayes, W.T. Stead and men equally or better known in commercial and literary life. There were many lovely women to blend with the rich furnishings; the prevailing style of apparel and "hair-do" were studies for artists. Day dresses were not too short to be attractive, extra long evening gowns, fur coats, jewellery and all that goes to make glamour was the spirit of the time.
For more about what people wore on ship see Dress at Sea.
Sailing day is usually given over to unpacking, making the cabin home like, getting the lay of public rooms, trying to determine fore and aft, port and starboard, studying the passenger list, getting the feel of the ship, picking out landmarks and shipping as we sailed Westwood [sic] to Cherbourg. There we enjoyed seeing passengers come aboard from the French port tender [the tenders Nomadic and Traffic were both White Star Line vessels.], and were amused with sailors handling, or shall I say smashing luggage and moving continental males.
The first day out many passengers are so exhausted with farewell parties and preparations for the voyage that they do not dress for dinner.
Thursday, Friday and Saturday on this voyage passed quickly. Everyone was speculating on mileage of the maiden voyage, the behaviour of the great ship, indulging in gossip, inside information and time of arrival.
Sunday was one beautiful day – clear skies, smooth sea, perfect in every respect. Services were well attended, and even at sea the traditional day of rest seemed to prevail. About 4 pm, it began to grow quite cold. The temperature dropped so suddenly that it was generally accepted that we were approaching icebergs.
After tea, it was bitterly cold outside, but comfortably warm in all public rooms. Our little party exchanged impressions, gossip and otherwise wasted time until we parted to "clean-up" for dinner.
When we again assembled a table in a beautifully lighted dining room, we started a sort of mutual admiration competition in which the ladies always won. A smooth sea, clear skies and low temperature outside gave women passengers and opportunity to get out their latest Parisian gowns, their most brilliant jewels, transformations (a hair-do of the time), facial treatments, etc. It was a brilliant assembly – contentment and happiness prevailed. Conversations were perhaps animated by a liberal social cocktail or two.
A "transformation" was a kind of elaborate wig.
Our party settled down to discussing metaphysics – a subject difficult to keep on the line. We were projecting our individuality on the subject rather vigorously, wandering away and coming back. I finally said to Williams, "This is not the time and place to discuss metaphysics, especially over a whiskey bottle," so that ended the discussion.
Williams was a democratic sort of chap, did not hesitate to move among the high, the less high or lowly, so he selected a table for coffee in the reception room next to a table at which Captain Smith was entertaining a party.
We were close enough to hear Captain Smith tell his party the ship could be cut crosswise in three places and each piece would float. That remark confirmed my belief in the safety of the ship.
- - - - - - -
Shortly after 10:00 pm, our party seemed to have had sufficient for the day. We arose from the table in the reception room, went through our stereotyped form of adieux, parted and proceeded to our cabin on "C" deck.
Our cabin was rather cold, so we turned on an electric heater and prepared for a good night's rest.
I was in the habit of turning out my pockets, placing the usual heterogeneous collection on a table which we had in the centre of the cabin. My wife elected to read while she toasted her feet before the heater.
I had dozed off, I think, after telling my wife the engines were running a little faster. I could count the revolutions of the reciprocating engines with my ear to the pillow – a throb scarcely audible except to an experienced ear.
Whether I was asleep or still awake, I do not know, but I was aroused by a very slight lift of the bed, followed by the engines stopping. I did not get up immediately, but speculated on the cause of stopping the engines. I said to my wife after five or ten minutes, "I think I will go on deck, nose about and see if I can be of any assistance."
I leisurely put on the clothes I intended to wear the next day, picked up a cigar from the table, lighted it and went up through the companionway adjacent to the restaurant, or Café Parisian, to "B" deck.
The Orchestra was playing, and many people were sitting at tables playing cards as I passed through. There was scarcely anyone on deck. I said to a sailor, "Why have we stopped?"" Struck an iceberg," he said.
I walked forward, saw nothing peculiar but crushed ice under my feet which had been shivered from the iceberg. Picking up a piece of ice about the size of an egg, I went below, stopped at my cabin, told my wife we had struck an iceberg and then went along to Williams' cabin.
He was sitting up in bed in a dressing gown, reading a book, smoking a huge cigar and sipping a highball which was beside him. "Well, Williams," I said, "we have struck an iceberg, and I have bought you a piece of it to put in your highball, so here goes." Williams asked, "Is there any cause for alarm?," and I again assured him that this ship was unsinkable.
After chatting a few minutes, I wished Williams a good night's rest and returned to my cabin. As I passed along the corridor, an officer came from the opposite direction. Said he, "Go to your cabin, put on your life belt and proceed to the boat deck." That was sheer stupidity to me, and I so expressed my feelings to my wife. I hesitated, thought again, and had my wife dress and put on a fur coat, over which I placed a life belt. "Are you going to put one on?" "No, I will take one with me though."
When we closed the cabin door, we had unqualified confidence that we would return in a half hour or so. Therefore, I made no attempt to salvage the things I had emptied out of my pockets on the table a while before, not even a cigar. We left everything as if we expected to return in a short time.
We passed up through the forward companionway, without meeting anyone until we approached the stair on "A" deck. About halfway up the flight there were two gentlemen, one on either side, leaning against the balustrade and, from outward appearance, more dead than alive. We had been introduced to these two fine-looking men by a mutual friend on the platform in Waterloo Station.
They were from Buenos Aires, Argentina. They could not speak English, and we could not speak Spanish. As we casually met day by day, we would all speak our native language, smile and pass along, none of us understanding what the other had said. At this meeting we repeated the usual salutations, shook hands and assured them there was no danger, smiled and proceeded on our way, to carry the fear they exhibited on their faces for the remainder of my life. How terrifying it must have been to those who did not have faith in the wonderful engineering skill displayed in building this massive unsinkable steamer.
Taylor is probably referring here to Francisco Carrau and José Carraú-Esteves, who were related to each other and both fron Uruguay.
Stepping out on the boat deck, Just aft of the forward funnel, I was amazed to find so much rope lying about on the deck. We turned left, indicating we were on the starboard side, and walked forward to a point almost opposite the forward where there were a few people standing, among them, Mrs. and Miss Crosby.
Sailors were engaged in helping passengers into the third lifeboat after the bridge [he possibly means lifeboat #5], and as there was no hurry or excitement, we asked about Williams and Mr Crosby, and were told they had gone below. Sailors were asking the women to get in the lifeboats, and as our little party refused, I took my wife aside to give her a straight talk. I told her she must obey orders, even though it meant going out for an hour or so and then returning to the boat.
She asked if I were going, to which I replied, "No, remember 'DIVINE LOVE ALWAYS HAS MET AND ALWAYS WILL MEET EVERY HUMAN NEED,'" A motto I had looked at for many years displayed on the walls of my church.
All the women folk were put aboard, having prevailed on the Crosby's to go with my wife, and yet the boat was not yet half full. Repeated calls were made for women, and then an officer turned to a half dozen men standing on deck and told them to take to the lifeboat before it was lowered to the next deck.
If I had been given my choice at that moment, to remain on deck or to get into the lifeboat, I would have chosen the former. Why not? The only evidence of danger was in launching the lifeboats, but I had seen boat drills many times before, and to me this was just another practical boat drill.
The deck was cleared of all but sailors. Then an order was given to "lower away" and stop at… Deck. In the meanwhile, someone shouted from the boat deck, "put in the plug" – presumably a means provided for the escape of rainwater. The three sailors in our boat skied around, found the plug, screwed it in place and gave orders to "lower away".
Whilst on deck, I did not realise we were sinking by the bow, nor did I get the first thought of danger until we were afloat and cast off. The first row of well-lighted port holes on" E" deck were normally about 25 feet from the water line, but now the forward port holes had sunk to the water's edge. Even then I was not convinced that the great ship could not survive.
- - - - - - -
About a quarter of a mile from the ship we stopped rowing, "laid to" and what a great spectacle! The time must have been about 12:30 am, the sky clear as crystal, not a cloud, not a breath of air, not even a light breeze – starlight, a glassy smooth sea, with a slight swell. The SS "Titanic" – broadside, silhouetted against a clear background, fully lighted decks, port holes and occasionally a feeble sound of music heard from the ship – a reserve seat to witness one of the most tragic events in all time. It was then that I fully realised the fate of the ship, but, mind you, not the fate of the passengers.
For fully quarter of an hour, or perhaps more, we all seemed satisfied to remain silent. There was scarcely an audible sound. The ship was going down by the bow. The first row of port holes was below the water line, then another row, while after, the glowing port holes were lifted higher and higher until the screws were silhouetted, well out of the water, and finally, a crash as if every boiler, engine, and fitting had torn loose from their moorings and crashed into the bow; all lights were extinguished, synchronising with the crash. Darkness prevailed. The idolised conception of mortal man gradually settled, bow first, under the icy waters in mid-Atlantic, said to be the deepest part of the ocean.
A real tragedy. 1,500 or more people were plunged into the ocean, all calling for help – a sound never to be forgotten.
We cruised around for some time, but made no effort to save those in the water. We transferred from other overcrowded boats sufficient people to fill our boat to capacity. For perhaps an hour, we went about this sort of thing until finally there did not seem to be anything further that could be done, so we "laid to".
Everyone was straining their eyes and calling upon their imaginations to see some visible means of rescue.
- - - - - - -
A congressional inquiry brought out and established certain facts and opinions bearing on the cause and effect. Steps were taken at once to prevent and avoid repetition of disasters at sea, and since 1912 many preventative means have been put in force up to 1942 that undoubtedly would have saved every life.
Personally, I did not agree with the findings of the committee. I was not asked to testify, but if I had been called upon, my observations would have been something like this:
Gentlemen, as a background, I ask you to visualise a steel structure that if stood on end beside the Eiffel Tower, Paris, the top of the structure would be about level with the top most platform of the Eiffel Tower and almost twice as high as the Washington Monument in Washington DC.
Imagine this huge bulk in a dry dock, so exposed one could view every part of the outside of the hull. Now imagine a chain or cable, or both, were placed completely around the structure in mid-centre, then attached to a deck sufficiently strong to raise the entire mass, order issued to lift the mass, the motive power started, strains taken by the encircling fastenings – up she goes, up, up, do not stop. How far do you think the two ends would be lifted? Not at all. You are correct.
When the Titanic settled by the bow, the stern was lifted in mid-air, and this went on until about half of the ship was out of the water at an angle of about 30°. The forward half of the ship was held much like a fisherman holds his line for deep-sea fishing. Instead of all of the inside fittings of the ship breaking loose from their mornings, the excessive weight of the stern dangled in mid-air, broke the back of the ship at one of the expansion joints.
The crashing sound, quite audible a quarter of a mile away, was due, in my opinion, to tearing the ship's plates apart, or that part of the hull below the expansion joints, thus breaking the back at a point almost midway the length of the ship, or about through the Music Room otherwise gentleman how could one account for those big, fat green pillows I have mentioned before which were floating around the area? It matters little at this time to try to solve the problems of 1912. It is better to get on with factual experience.
- - - - - - -
You may ask, "What next"? Well, it could not be called a fishing party, a day's outing, or even of one's choice, but there we were; silent, grim, cold, but expectant. Eyes were strained to the utmost for an hour or more – not a thing was visible – in an effort to move from one unknown place to another – watchful waiting, might describe it. Finally, one sailor said to another, "There's a Light", and this started an argument which was settled by one sailor who said, "If it is a light, we will soon see another below it – the two mast lights", and, sure enough, in about 15 minutes a second light appeared over the water.
Survivors began to ask if others were warm enough, could they help, etc. Those lights were stimulating. Eventually, one could see, if never before, the dawn of another day; imperceptibly almost, but gradually, a change was taking place. A gentle breeze was springing up; the sea began to roughen on its surface. The stars were not so bright, and not more than a quarter of a mile away we thought we saw a sailing ship – no, it was an iceberg. It must've been 150 or more feet high and perhaps 800 or more feet under the water – not at all visible until the dawn of days.
The two lights were getting higher and higher until we could make out the structure of a steamer belching smoke from her funnels as if in a great hurry. By early daylight, the SS "Carpathia" moved slowly onto the scene; standing by, almost over the spot where the Titanic sank.
- - - - - - -
Life boats and rafts had radiated during the night from this spot in all directions, so it was the logical point from which rescue could be made. By some good fortune, we were one of the early boats to arrive beside the Carpathia. The ship's ladder of rope hung down the side of the steamer, a rope was lowered from the deck, and the sailors placed one end of it around the body just under the arms, and then helped the survivors to climb that rope ladder. Ladies first!
I had my first smile when one after the other thought they were climbing that ladder, but in reality, were being lifted by someone at the other end of the rope. To see those feet imitating climbing a ladder without touching it, but still going up, was amusing. When it came my turn, I knew why. The cold had so stiffened our muscles, they did not react normally.
On the deck, hot blankets were thrown around the survivors. They were supported, if necessary, to a warm dining room, given hot coffee and sandwiches, and after half an hour also, many of them were quite restored to normal and able to return to the deck to watch for other craft approaching the rope ladder and safety. It must have been 10:00 or 11:00 o'clock before all of the life boats and rafts had been dealt with.
Naturally, every individual was scrutinizing survivors in an effort to find those that had been separated from them. I was especially interested in watching for my friend Williams and Mr. Crosby. In the meanwhile, a group in the smoking room of the Carpathia were questioning survivors on the event. A gentleman from Alpena, Michigan (I have forgotten his name) and his son occupied a four-berth cabin which they offered to Mrs. Taylor, Mrs and Miss Crosby. I accepted the offer, providing they could find accommodations with other passengers of the Carpathia. A gentleman overhearing the conversation made an offer to them, and it was accepted. As the hours passed by, the change was affected and with much gratitude. To take on 500 or more additional passengers and find accommodations for them in a ship the size of the Carpathia, to provide food, in some cases, clothing, and the many necessary things for the 500 or more survivors was a problem.
I recall an unfortunate incident that occurred the first night out in the smoker. After dinner, a German with a "Von" attached to his name [Alfred Nourney, aka Baron von Drachstedt], gathered together all of the blankets distributed for the survivors and piled them about a foot high, making for himself a comfortable bed. A group of young girls entered the smoking room, took in the situation at a glance, and one of them – a Canadian, I think, took hold of the top blanket, bowled the German off and said "And to think such as you were saved!" Applause followed as the German made his exit.
The ladies insisted on my joining them in their cabin, and, not finding other ladies who have not been provided for, I accepted the responsibility. After they were retired, I entered, took off my coat and waistcoat and shoes, and made myself comfortable in the top birth. A sound sleep followed in a few minutes.
During the second night, I was suddenly aroused by a crash exceeding anything I had heard on the Titanic. I lowered myself out of the top birth about the same time that Miss Crosby landed from her top berth, but clothed only in a union suit [one-piece men's underwear] out I went, to find the cause of the crash, only to be told it was a clap of thunder out of a more or less clear sky.
The Crosby's had come on deck without much else but their nighties and over which they had put fur coats. Sympathetic passengers on the Carpathia fitted them up in a way, but Mrs. Crosby's great loss seemed to be the transformation she had had so much trouble to have made while in Paris.
Taylor seems quietly dismissive of Mrs Crosby in general and implies, quite cruely, that she cared more about the loss of her wig than her husband.
We constantly speculated on Williams and Crosby having been picked up by some other steamer or fishing boat – at least this satisfied us to some extent. It was difficult to really believe in this, because I had seen several bodies left in the lifeboats before they were set a drift – those, I presumed, had been rescued from the icy water, more dead than alive. Few who had actually been in the water were saved.
From the deck of the Carpathia, as we cruised about over the spot until past noon on that Monday morning, one had a close-up view of three huge icebergs – brilliantly white in the sunshine, as if fresh snow had fallen, and, in addition, an ice floe extending as far as the eye could see. If the Titanic had been provided with searchlights, it might have been possible to have landed all passengers on the miles and miles of ice floe, seemingly standing out of the water six or ten feet – perfectly flat on top, an ideal place to remain until help reach them. This floe did not seem to be more than a half mile from the grave of the Titanic, and when one considers there may be seven or eight times as much ice under the water, it could easily have supported 1,600 people who perished.
I am not sure, but I think the berg we struck with a glancing blow was a pinnacle berg which must have been 150 to 200 feet high, but close by was another berg over 100 feet high, a quarter of a mile long, with a flat top – marvellous to contemplate as a mass. Although ice is frayable [easily broken into small pieces], even a ship as large as the Titanic could not move the mass in a head-on collision so much as the thickness of an eggshell.
There was very little debris floating about, but here and there a life boat [he probably meant life belt] supporting an unrecognisable body. Those huge green pillows previously mentioned were very much in evidence, because they scarcely touched the water to float; bits of woodwork and furniture and, miles away, life boats that had been turned adrift, because there was not space for all of them on the decks.
The bergs and ice floe gave us the impression that we had arrived at the North Pole, but in the darkness following the tragedy no bergs were visible, and I have always maintained that contributed to the disaster.
Recall the conditions at the time of the collision – smooth sea, clear, starlit skies, no wind. This combination rendered the bergs invisible as they took on the colour of the water and sky, whereas in sunlight they were brilliantly white. The "look-out" in the crow's nest could not see the bergs, but if there had been some wind, a rough sea, the "look-out" could have seen the phosphorescent light caused by the water breaking against the berg. I regard the accident just one of those things called "unavoidable".
- - - - - - -
Life on the Carpathia was drab. Most people sought the seclusion of their own thoughts, satisfied to think that some of the missing had been picked up by other boats. By some inexplainable reason, I found a few sovereigns in my pocket, sufficient to purchase from the ship stores, toothbrushes, combs, barber service and the little necessary things for the ladies. Cables were put into friends on both sides of the Atlantic, but later I discovered they had not been transmitted until we were a day out from New York City.
It must have been Thursday, April 18, 1912 when we disembarked from the Carpathia. Here we stepped into real excitement and confusion.
Many relatives and friends, doctors and ambulances, reporters, were all eager to question the survivors.
Through the hospitality of my brother Gove, then living on Riverside Drive, New York, my wife's people, the Wrights, and my people, the Taylors [we] were refreshed, bathed, fed and tucked into bed – Williams and Crosby were reported missing.
In due time, many letters from friends at home and abroad sent congratulations on our escape, of which the following from previously mentioned Croft-Smith is a fair example:
"My dear Taylor:
"I am writing this to congratulate Mrs Taylor and yourself on your escape from the terrible disaster which overtook the "Titanic". It seems like an awful nightmare when I think of all that happened and the terrible sacrifice of human life.
"I had known Mr. Andrews for about 15 years. I have often met Captain Smith, and there were so many I knew by sight, the loss of whom seems to leave a great gap.
"I trust that neither of you will be worse in health for your experience, and I look forward to the time when I shall again have the pleasure of meeting you both.
"With our united kindest remembrances and congratulations,
Very truly yours,
J. Croft-Smith"
Comment and discuss