Titanic, First Accounts

by Tim Maltin

  Mr. Phillips then went outside to see how things were progressing, and meanwhile I established communication with the Baltic, telling him we were in urgent need of assistance.

  This I reported to Mr. Phillips on his return, but suggested “M B C” was too far away to be of any use.

  Mr. Phillips told me the forward well deck was under water, and we got our lifebelts out and tied on each other, after putting on additional clothing.

  Again Mr. Phillips called “C Q D” and “S O S” and for nearly five minutes got no reply, and then both the Carpathia and the Frankfurt called.

  Just at this moment the captain came into the cabin and said, “You can do nothing more; look out for yourselves.” Mr. Phillips resumed the phones and after listening a few seconds jumped up and fairly screamed, “The ----- fool. He says, ‘What’s up old man?’” I asked “Who?” Mr. Phillips replied the Frankfurt and at that time it seemed perfectly clear to us that the Frankfurt’s operator had taken no notice or misunderstood our first call for help.

  Mr. Phillips’ reply to this was “You fool, stdbi and keep out.”

  Undoubtedly both Mr. Phillips and I were under a great strain at this time, but though the committee inquiring into the facts on this side are inclined to censure that reply, I am still of the opinion that Mr. Phillips was justified in sending it.

  Leaving Mr. Phillips operating, I went to our sleeping cabin, and got all our money together, returning to find a fireman or coal trimmer gently relieving Mr. Phillips of his lifebelt. There immediately followed a general scrimmage with the three of us.

  I regret to say that we left too hurriedly to take the man in question with us, and without a doubt he sank with the ship in the Marconi cabin as we left him.

  I had up to this time kept the PV entered up, intending when we left the ship to tear out the lot and each to take a copy, but now we could hear the water washing over the boat deck, and Mr. Phillips said, “Come, let’s clear out.”

  We had nearly the whole time been in possession of full power from the ship’s dynamo, though toward the end the lights sank and we were ready to stand by, with emergency apparatus and candles, but there was no necessity to use them.

  Leaving the cabin, we climbed on top of the house comprising the officers’ quarters and our own, and here I saw the last of Mr. Phillips, for he disappeared walking aft.

  I now assisted in pushing off a collapsible lifeboat, which was on the port side of the forward funnel, onto the boat deck. Just as the boat fell I noticed Capt. Smith dive from the bridge into the sea.

  Then followed a general scramble down on the boat deck, but no sooner had we got there than the sea washed over. I managed to catch hold of the boat we had previously fixed up and was swept overboard with her.

  I then experienced the most exciting three or four hours anyone could reasonably wish for, and was in due course, with the rest of the survivors picked up by the Carpathia.

  As you have probably heard, I got on the collapsible boat a second time, which was, as I felt it, upturned.

  I called Phillips several times, but got no response, but learned later from several sources that he was on this boat and expired even before we were picked off by the Titanic’s boat.

  I am told fright and exposure was the cause of his death.

  As far as I can find out, he was taken on board the Carpathia and buried at sea from her, though for some reason the bodies of those who had died were not identified before burial from the Carpathia, and so I can not vouch for the truth of this.

  After a short stay in the hospital of the Carpathia I was asked to assist Mr. Cottam, the operator, who seemed fairly worn out with work.

  Hundreds of telegrams from survivors were waiting to go as soon as we could get communication with shore stations.

  Regarding the working of the Carpathia.

  The list of survivors, Mr. Cottam told me, had been sent to the Minnewaska and the Olympic.

  When we established communication with the various coast stations, all of which had heavy traffic for us, in some cases running into hundreds of messages, we told them we would only accept service and urgent messages, as we knew the remainder would be press and messages inquiring after some one on the Titanic.

  It is easy to see we might have spent hours receiving messages inquiring after some survivor, while we had messages waiting from that survivor for transmission.

  News was not withheld by Mr. Cottam or myself with the idea of making money, but because, as far as I know, the captain of the Carpathia was advising Mr. Cottam to get off the survivors’ traffic first.

  Quite 75 percent of this we got off.

  On arrival in New York Mr. Marconi came on board with a reporter of the New York Times. Also Mr. Sammis was present, and I received $500 for my story, which both Mr. Marconi and Mr. Sammis authorized me to tell.

  I have forgotten to mention that the United States Government sent out a ship, as they said, to assist us named the Chester.

  Several messages passed between the commander of that vessel and the Carpathia, and resulted in the captain telling us to transmit the names of the third class passengers to the Chester.

  Though it has since been reported that the most expert operator in the United States Navy was on board the Chester, I had to repeat these names, nearly in all, several times to him taking up nearly a couple of hours of valuable time, though I sent them in the first place slowly and carefully.

  I am now staying with relatives and waiting orders from the Marconi Co. here, who have been most considerate and kind, buying me much needed clothes and looking after me generally.

  I am glad to say I can now walk around, the sprain in my left foot being much better, though my right foot remains numbed from the exposure and cold, but causes me no pain or inconvenience whatever.

  I greatly appreciate the cable the company so kindly sent me and thank them for the same.

  Trusting this report will be satisfactory until my return to England, I beg to remain.

  Yours, obediently,

  HAROLD S. BRIDE

  Newspaper First Accounts

  Harold S. Bride,

  New York Times,

  APRIL 19, 1912

  The following thrilling statement was dictated today by Mr. Bride, the assistant Marconi operator on board the Titanic, to the New York Times representative, in the presence of Mr. Marconi, who is now staying in New York:

  “I joined the Titanic at Belfast. I was born in Nunhead, London, S. E., twenty-two years ago, and joined the Marconi staff last July. I first worked on the Haverford, and then on the Lusitania, and was transferred to the Titanic at Belfast. I didn’t have much to do aboard the Titanic, except to relieve Phillips, the senior operator, from midnight until some time in the morning, when he finished sleeping.” “There were three rooms in the wireless cabin. One was a sleeping room, one a dynamo room, and one an operating room. I took off my clothes and went to sleep in the bed. Then I was conscious of waking up and hearing Phillips sending to Cape Race. I read what he was sending. It was only routine matter. I remembered how tired he was, and got out of bed without my clothes on to relieve him. I didn’t even feel the shock. I hardly knew it had happened until after the captain had come to us. There was no jolt whatever.”

  THE HELP SIGNAL, “C.Q.D.”

  “I was standing by Phillips, telling him to go to bed, when the captain put his head in the cabin, ‘We’ve struck an iceberg,’ the captain said, ‘and I’m having an inspection made to tell what it has done for us. You had better get ready to send out a call for assistance, but don’t send it until I tell you. ‘The captain went away, and in ten minutes, I should estimate, he came back. We could hear terrible confusion outside, but not the least thing to indicate any trouble. The wireless was working perfectly. ‘Send a call for assistance,’ ordered the captai
n, barely putting his head in the door. ‘What call should I send?’ Phillips asked. ‘The regulation international call for help, just that.’ Then the captain was gone.” “Phillips began to send ‘C.Q.D.’ He flashed away at it, and we joked while he did so. All of us made light of the disaster. We joked that way while we flashed the signals for about five minutes. Then the captain came back. ‘What are you sending?’ he asked. ‘C.Q.D.,’ Phillips replied.”

  JOKING ABOUT THE COLLISION

  “The humour of the situation appealed to me, and I cut in with a little remark that made us all laugh, including the captain. Send ‘S.O.S.,’ I said, ‘it’s the new call, and it may be your last chance to send it.’ Phillips, with a laugh, changed the signal to ‘S.O.S.’ The captain told us we had been struck amidships, or just aft of amidships. It was ten minutes, Phillips told me, after he noticed the iceberg, but the slight jolt was the only signal to us that a collision had occurred. We thought we were a good distance away. We said lots of funny things to each other in the next few minutes. We picked up the first steamship Frankfurt; gave her our position, and said we had struck an iceberg, and needed assistance. The Frankfurt operator went away to tell his captain. He came back, and we told him we were sinking by the head, and that we could observe a distinct list forward.” “The Carpathia answered our signal, and we told her our position, and said we were sinking by the head. The operator went to tell the captain, and in five minutes returned, and told us the Carpathia was putting about and heading for us.”

  SCENE ON THE DECK

  “Our captain had left us at this time, and Phillips told me to run and tell him what the Carpathia had answered. I did so, and I went through an awful mass of people to his cabin. The decks were full of scrambling men and women.” “I came back and heard Phillips giving the Carpathia further directions. Phillips told me to put on my clothes. Until that moment I forgot I wasn’t dressed. I went to my cabin and dressed. I brought an overcoat to Phillips, and as it was very cold I slipped the overcoat upon him while he worked.” “Every few minutes Phillips would send me to the captain with little messages. They were merely telling how the Carpathia was coming our way, and giving her speed.

  HEROIC TELEGRAPHIST

  “I noticed as I came back from one trip that they were putting off the women and children in lifeboats, and that the list forward was increasing. Phillips told me the wireless was growing weaker. The captain came and told us our engine rooms were taking water, and that the dynamos might not last much longer. We sent that word to the Carpathia.” “I went out on deck and looked around. The water was pretty close up to the boat deck. There was a great scramble aft, and how poor Phillips worked through it I don’t know. He was a brave man. I learned to love him that night, and I suddenly felt for him a great reverence to see him standing there sticking to his work while everybody else was raging about. I will never live to forget the work Phillips did for the last awful fifteen minutes.” “Phillips clung on, sending and sending. He clung on for about ten minutes, or maybe fifteen minutes, after the captain released him. The water was then coming into our cabin.” “From aft came the tunes of the ship’s band, playing the ragtime tune, ‘Autumn.’ Phillips ran aft, and that was the last I ever saw of him alive.” “I went to the place where I had seen the collapsible boat on the boat deck, and to my surprise I saw the boat, and the men still trying to push it off. I guess there wasn’t a sailor in the crowd. They couldn’t do it. I went up to them, and was just lending a hand when a large wave came awash of the deck. The big wave carried the boat off. I had hold of an oar-lock and I went off with it. The next I knew I was in the boat. But that wasn’t all; I was in the boat, and the boat was upside down, and I was under it. I remember realising I was wet through, and that whatever happened I must breathe, for I was under water. I knew I had to fight for it, and I did. How I got out from under the boat I don’t know, but I felt a breath of air at last. There were men all around me—hundreds of them. The sea was dotted with them, all depending on their lifebelts.”

  LAST GLIMPSE OF THE TITANIC

  “I felt I simply had to get away from the ship. She was a beautiful sight then. Smoke and sparks were rushing out of her funnels. There must have been an explosion, but we heard none. We only saw a big stream of sparks. The ship was gradually turning on her nose—just like a duck does that goes down for a dive. I had only one thing on my mind—to get away from the suction.” “The band was still playing. I guess all the band went down. They were heroes. They were still playing ‘Autumn.’ Then I swam with all my might. I suppose I was 150 ft. away when the Titanic, on her nose, with her after quarter sticking straight up in the air, began to settle slowly. When at last the waves washed over her rudder there wasn’t the least bit of suction I could feel. She must have kept going down just as flowing as she had been.” “I felt after a little while like sinking. I was very cold. I saw a boat of some kind near me, and put all my strength into an effort to swim to it. It was hard work, and I was all alone when a hand reached out from the boat and pulled me aboard. It was our same collapsible boat and the same crowd was on it. There was just room for me to roll on the edge. I lay there not caring what happened. Somebody sat on my legs. They were wedged in between the slats, and were being wrenched. I hadn’t the heart left to ask the man to move. There was a terrible sight all around; men swimming and sinking everywhere.” “I saw some lights off in the distance, and knew a steamship was coming to our aid. I didn’t care what happened. I just lay and gasped when I could, and felt the pain in my feet. I feel it still. At last the Carpathia was alongside, and the people were being taken up a rope ladder. Our boat drew near, and one by one the men were taken off of it. One man was dead. I passed him, and went to a ladder, although my feet pained me terribly.” “The dead man was Phillips. He died on the raft from exposure and cold. I guess he had been all in from work before the wreck came. He stood his ground until the crisis passed and then collapsed. But I hardly thought of that then; I didn’t think much about anything. I tried the rope ladder. My feet pained me terribly, but I got to the top, and felt hands reaching out to me. The next I know a woman was leaning over me in a cabin, and I felt her hand waving in my hair and rubbing my face. I felt somebody at my feet, and felt the warmth of liquor. Somebody got me under the arms, and then I was carried down below to the hospital. That was early in the day. I guess I lay in hospital until near night, when they told me the Carpathia’s wireless man was acting ‘queer,’ and would I help?” “After that I never was out of the wireless room, so I don’t know what happened to the passengers.”

  Laura Cribb,

  New York Evening Journal,

  APRIL 19, 1912

  My father and I were travelling third class in order to save as much money as possible so that he would have sufficient means to go into business when we reached this country. However, we were very comfortable. The first few days of the voyage were glorious, and we made many friends among the passengers who were coming to this country to start their lives new in what my father had always termed the Land of Promise. He was a highly educated man, and for years he had been desirous of coming to America, but it was only a month ago that we decided to leave our home in Dorset.

  I was in my berth early Sunday night and was thrown violently to the floor by the impact of the boat when it struck the iceberg. It was then about 11:30 o’clock, and for a moment I was so stunned that I was unable to imagine what had occurred until I heard one of the officers of the ship shouting that the boat had struck an iceberg. He gave hurried instructions that we should dress and go up on the second deck.

  Ah, the courage and bravery of those officers was glorious to see. They seemed to be everywhere at once, shouting instructions, giving advice, quieting those who were terrified and lending aid and assistance to those who were too frightened to help themselves.

  Why, I saw one officer who stood on the second deck with his revolver in his hand and threatened to shoot a
ny man who attempted to enter a boat before every woman was cared for.

  And he shot three.

  It would have been a horrible sight at any other time, but in that hour of chaos and excitement I don’t think there was a single person who didn’t, inwardly at least, glory in his deed.

  Shortly after we left the third deck we were lowered in a lifeboat, all women and children except six members of the crew, and we pushed away far enough to be out of the suction zone. We were so fascinated by the sights on the Titanic, however, that we could not keep our eyes off her until the last lights went out and the final notes of the band were drowned in the hiss and roar that came with the final plunge of the great ship as she sank bow first.

  Each of us knew that with the sinking we had lost some dear one—my father went down with those other brave men who stuck to their posts and gave their lives that we women and children might be saved—but each of us was glad and proud, I think, to know that they were real men, the kind of men who are heroes.

  We were in the boat for nearly four hours before we were picked up by the four sailing vessels from the Titanic, which had been lashed together for greater safety. It was then some time before we reached the Carpathia—I don’t know how long, for I had become so benumbed by then that I was unable to correctly keep track. We saw the Carpathia for a great distance, but it seemed hours and hours before we reached her and were finally hauled over her side to safety.

  Hugh Woolner,

  New York Sun,

  APRIL 19, 1912

  We were sitting, a party of about six, drinking hot whiskey and water. On Sunday night I noticed that everyone was drinking hot drinks. The previous nights we had iced drinks, but on Sunday everybody seemed to be drinking grog. It had suddenly become deadly cold in the lounge and restaurant and the lady of our party had gone off to her room.