by Senan Molony
There was no disorder on the deck that amounted to anything, and all the officers acted in a manner that convinced us the ship was not in grave danger. The story that the men on board acted like heroes is true in every detail, and it was ‘women first’ in nearly every case except for a few of the steerage passengers who tried to fight their way to the lifeboats and who I have been told were shot by officers of the boat.
All the lifeboats were lowered while I was on deck and it looked for a time as if I would be left. I saw men lead their wives to the lifeboats and leave them there, returning to the deck, and we on deck were not so horribly frightened as might be thought. Every one of us thought that it was impossible to sink the ship.
Just as the last lifeboat, the one with Mr Ismay in it, was launched over the side, one of the officers shouted ‘There’s more room in that boat’ and I and eleven other women were crowded into it. This was after 1 o’clock. I don’t know how much, but it was after one. The lifeboat was manned by enough men to care for it properly and immediately on touching the water, the men rowed with all their strength to get away from the ship, so that, if it did go down, we would not be caught in the suction.
The night was extremely cold, and we womenfolk had little wraps to keep us warm and we huddled there in clusters watching the great ship as it slowly sank. Not until we got off the boat did we fully realise the danger. Then we saw that the boat had tilted forward and that slowly, but surely, she was sinking.
We saw the bottom row of lights disappear under the water and watched as line after line disappeared, showing us the rapidity of the sinking of the ship. We were entirely surrounded by large cakes of ice and there was no food or water on the boat, and in the long wait for the Carpathia the majority of us prayed for the coming of the ship. When the welcome ship hove in sight many of us were too much exhausted to realise the greatness of the disaster …
We were picked up at 6 o’clock and I am informed that every one of the boats that were launched from the Titanic were picked up, with the exception of one which turned over and drowned every one on board. The relief that we experienced when on board the Carpathia is beyond description, but there was with many a fear that this ship might meet the same fate as the Titanic and it was not until the ship touched the port of New York that we all felt safe.
To realise what we passed through is impossible for anyone who was not on the ship. The hand of death was over us and as we floated out in the frail lifeboats, with no food or water, and as our thirst began to increase, the thought that we might not be picked up, and huddled up in this manner should die of starvation, made us beside ourselves, and as we prayed the smoke-stack of the Carpathia hove in sight …
Practically two out of every three who sailed on the Titanic are now at the bottom of the ocean, and when I realise that I was one of the last twelve to leave the ship, I cannot help thinking what might have been.
The brave men who went down have left a memory in the hearts of every one of us survivors that will linger as long as we live. The ‘women first’ rule was carried out to the letter and those who had womenfolk on board devoted their time to getting the women in the small boats while they themselves were content to remain on deck.
A few men, including six Chinese, had hidden under the seats of the lifeboats and were carried out, according to the stories on the Carpathia on Monday night, but it is said that two of them were crushed to death by the weight thrown upon them. There were none of them in our boat.
Bridget was the fifth eldest of nine children who lived in a cottage with no bath or electricity. She occasionally went to school barefoot. Older siblings Mary and Michael emigrated to the United States, both settling in Glen Falls, where Mary became a domestic and her brother a fireman.
On discharge from hospital, a penniless Bridget was assisted by the American Red Cross, receiving $125. She worked as a domestic in Glen Falls for two years before moving to New York and becoming engaged by the wealthy Nicholls family.
She lodged a court claim against the Ocean Steam Navigation Company, owners of the Titanic, in the US District Court, southern district of New York, in company with numerous other litigants. Her claim was for $153 worth of lost personal effects, made up as follows:
Three pairs high shoes, at $3.50 – $10.50; One lady’s suit, woollen consisting of coat and skirt, $25; Two suits union underwear, flannel $1 – $2; Three pairs woollen stockings, $.50 – $1.50; Three pairs half hose $.50 – $1.50; One lady’s hat with trimmings, $3; One toilet set consisting of brush, comb, soap, tooth brush, one bath towel, two plain towels, one silver soap case, one silver hair pin case and leather case for set – $5; One leather valise – $3.50; Two lady’s dresses, cotton, $3.50 – $7; One black dress, mixed goods, $28; Six white shirt waists, $1 – $6; Cash $25; One large steamer trunk, $10; Paid for medical attendance as result of the collision, $25. Total: $153.
In 1925 Bridget met the supervisor of the Nicholls’ summer estate on Howe Island in the St Lawrence river in Canada. She was 32, he was 40. They were married two days after the following Valentine’s Day at St Patrick’s Cathedral on Fifth Avenue, New York. She was now Mrs Bernard LaSha, and she adopted the first name Delia, a familiar name for Bridget.
They settled in Gananoque, Ontario, where their first child, Mary, was born in September 1927. John Joseph arrived fourteen months later, and Rose Henrietta two years after that. Joan Margaret was born in 1931.
By 1929, Delia LaSha, Titanic survivor, had become a boat owner herself. Her husband ploughed his savings into a tour boat, named the Sun Dance, to take passengers around the islands of the St Lawrence. In the autumn of 1932 he suffered a seizure and on 29 March 1933 died aged 47, at the height of the Great Depression. A few months later, heart worn and suffering from shingles, his widow gave birth to their fifth child, who lived only a few days and was buried with his father.
Bridget could not face the water commerce business herself. She hired a man to operate the Sun Dance, which cut down on her own income, and she took up babysitting to try to make ends meet. In 1951, she suffered a stroke which severely impaired her speech and paralysed her right arm and leg. The boat was sold.
When the film Titanic was shown in the local cinema that same decade, Delia LaSha was guest of honour. Her daughter Mary Higgins recounted: ‘Mom became very emotional during the movie and at times kept shaking her head as if to say it didn’t happen that way. If able to speak, I am sure she would have had many comments to make.’
Three years later she was dead, having outlived her husband by twenty-three years. According to her death certificate, she was born on 10 January 1893, and passed away on 24 January 1956, aged 63.
Arthur Jackson Brewe (45) Lost
Ticket number 112379. Paid £39 12s.
Boarded at Cherbourg. First Class.
From: Drumgriffin, County Galway.
Destination: returning to Philadelphia.
First-Class passenger Dr Brewe was from Drumgriffin, County Galway. He was aged 45, and was returning to Philadelphia from a grand tour. He boarded the Titanic at Cherbourg in the company of friends – the same embarkation port as the ‘Unsinkable’ Molly Brown, his contemporary. She later wrote to passenger Colonel Archibald Gracie describing a conversation with Dr Brewe on Sunday night before the disaster:
In telling of the people she conversed with that Sunday evening, she refers to an exceedingly intellectual and much-travelled acquaintance, Mrs Bucknell, whose husband had founded the Bucknell University of Philadelphia; also to another passenger from the same city, Dr Brewe, who had done much in scientific research.
During her conversation with Mrs Bucknell, the latter reiterated a statement previously made on the tender at Cherbourg while waiting for the Titanic. She said she feared boarding the ship because she had evil forebodings that something might happen.
(Mrs Emma Bucknell, 60, and her maid were rescued in boat No. 8)
The Irish Weekly Independent of 25 May 1912 reported:
Distin
guished Galway man who went down on the Titanic
Amongst the victims of the Titanic disaster, of whose last moments on the ill-fated vessel nothing is known, was a distinguished Galway man, Dr Arthur Jackson Brewe of the Netherlands, Forty-fourth and Chestnut Streets, Philadelphia.
Dr Brewe was the eldest son of Mrs Butler, of Winterfield House, Drumgriffin, County Galway, and a brother of Mrs Glynn, the wife of Dr Glynn of Waterview House, Turloughmore, Athenry.
Born in Galway 45 years ago, he was educated in a preparatory school in Glencoe and subsequently at Clongowes, whence he matriculated to Trinity College, Dublin. Soon after taking his degree, he emigrated to the United States, first living in New York, and then moving to Philadelphia, where he made his home …
Dr Brewe, who had been on a tour of Africa, joined the Titanic from Cherbourg, having travelled through Rome, Naples, Florence, and Paris. His last letter was posted to his sister, Mrs Glynn, Waterview House, Turloughmore, immediately before he sailed, and she little thought as she read his graphic pen-pictures of his tour that he was fast approaching his doom.
Catherine Buckley (22) Lost
Ticket number 329944. Paid £7 5s 8d.
Boarded at Queenstown. Third Class.
From: Springmount, Ovens, County Cork.
Destination: 71 Mount View Street, Roxbury, Massachusetts.
Catherine Buckley was travelling out to visit her sister Margaret in West Roxbury, near Boston, since her British army boyfriend had been posted to Hong Kong. She finally arrived in the local St Joseph’s Cemetery after her body was recovered from the Atlantic, brought to Canada, and shipped south to Margaret – with reimbursement of her steerage fare by the White Star Line. Hers was the only Irish body returned to relatives.
Margaret had wanted her sister to come out and join her. Her parents, Julia and Jeremiah, both in their sixties when Catherine sailed, wanted their youngest to stay home in Ireland, fearing she would stay in the New World. They wanted her to care for them in their old age. Catherine finally defied their wishes, booked passage on the Titanic and was drowned. The parents never forgave their older daughter for urging Kate to her doom. When a bereft and distraught Margaret travelled home later that same year, the story is told that the homestead door was slammed in her face. ‘Murderer!’ was the bitter label hurled at Margaret by her own parents.
In fact Catherine had been one of a number of Irish passengers originally booked to cross the Atlantic on the White Star liner Cymric, which ought to have sailed on 7 April, but was trapped by the coal strike which had paralysed shipping. The passengers were transferred to the newest and grandest addition to the White Star fleet.
A full two weeks after the numbing disaster, on 28 April 1912, the search vessel MacKay-Bennett recovered Catherine’s body. It was embalmed on board and returned to Halifax, Nova Scotia. There, in an ice rink converted into a morgue, the body was identified by means of Catherine’s ticket:
Body No. 299 Female. Estimated age 18. False teeth top. Dark.
Clothing – Long blue overcoat; blue serge jacket and skirt; white blouse; blue corsets; grey knickers; 10s in silver; £1 in gold; $5 note in purse; satchel; Third Class ticket no. 329944.
Third Class. Name – Catherine Buckley.
Catherine had been a maid to two old ladies, Annie and Emma Evans, at 3 Adelaide Terrace in Cork, where her name appears in the 1911 census. She wrote from this address to her sister on 19 March: ‘just a hurried line, hoping you are well and to tell you I am to sail for the U. States on 11th April by the new steamer Titanic.’ She added: ‘Too bad I couldn’t go direct to Boston on the account of the coal strike … there is a lot of liners put off on account of the strike, so I have to go the way I am told.’
Her army boyfriend, George, wrote to her sister in July 1912: ‘Margaret, I am very sorry to hear that she has gone to her eternal home and left me in this dark world of ours alone.’
The Titanic International Society marked Catherine’s grave with a new headstone in May 2010 in a ceremony attended by the Irish consul general.
Daniel Buckley (21) Saved
Ticket number 330920. Paid £7 12s 7d, plus 3s 10d extra.
Boarded at Queenstown. Third Class.
From: Kingwilliamstown (now Ballydesmond), County Cork.
Destination: 855 Trement Avenue, Bronx, New York city.
Daniel Buckley lived because a woman in a lifeboat threw a shawl over him. Her action cloaked his presence as officers fired shots and ordered men who had rushed a boat to leave it – or die. A moment’s humanity had turned Dannie Buckley female.
He was an ambitious and enterprising young man who wanted to go to America to make some money, as he told Senator William Alden Smith at the US inquiry. ‘I came in the Titanic because she was a new steamer.’
But his good luck lasted for only another six years. Daniel Buckley was killed in 1918, a month before the end of the First World War, while helping to evacuate American Expeditionary Force wounded from the front line on the French/Belgian border.
Buckley was born on 28 September 1890 and baptised the same day in the Church of the Immaculate Conception in Boherbue, County Cork. His proud parents were Daniel Snr and Abigail Sullivan. The family moved to neighbouring Kingwilliamstown in 1905, where Daniel Snr became the town baker.
By 1912, Buckley and a number of young friends had decided on emigration to the United States, where opportunities would be better for a jobbing labourer like himself. The night before the party left for Queenstown to embark, there was an American wake in the town with strong drink, set-dancing and a singsong send-off. Buckley had penned a ballad to ‘Sweet Kingwilliamstown’, a tuneful tribute that endures in the area, but chose that night to sing an optimistic valediction: ‘When the Fields are White with Daisies, I’ll Return’.
Aboard the White Star vessel, Buckley and three friends found a Third-Class compartment near the bow. He shared the cramped room with his near neighbours Patrick O’Connell, Patrick O’Connor and Michael Linehan. Here is Buckley’s account in a letter to his mother composed three days after rescue:
On board the Carpathia, 18 March [sic], 1912.
Dear Mother,
I am writing these lines on board the Carpathia, the ship that saved our lives. As I might not have much time when I get to New York, I mean to give you an account of the terrible shipwreck we had.
At 11 p.m. on the 14th, our ship Titanic struck an iceberg and sank to the deep at 2.20 a.m. on the 15th. The present estimation is 1,500 lost, 710 saved. Thank God some of us are amongst the saved.
Hannah Riordan, Brigie Bradley, Nonie O’Leary and the Shine girl from Lismore are all right.
There is no account of Patie Connell (25), Michael Linehan from Freeholds, or Jim Connor, Hugh’s son, from Tureenavonacane. However I hope they were taken into some other ship.
There were four of us sleeping in the same apartment. We had a bed of our own and in every apartment there were four lifebelts, one for each person. At the time when the ship got struck I heard a terrible noise. I jumped out of bed and told my comrades there was something wrong, but they only laughed.
I turned on the light and to my surprise there was a small amount of water running along the floor. I had only just dressed myself when the sailors came along shouting ‘All up on deck, unless you want to get drowned!’
We all ran up on deck. I thought to go down again to my room for a lifebelt and my little bag. When I was going down the last flight of stairs the water was up three steps so I did not go any further. I just thought of Dan Ring’s saying ‘stick to your lifebelts and face a tearing ocean’.
We were not long on deck when the lifeboats were prepared. There were only sixteen boats and that amount was only enough to carry a tenth of the passengers. The third boat that was let down, I went on it. There were about forty men in it.
We were only fifteen minutes in the boat when the big ship went down. It was a terrible sight. It would make the stones cry to hear those on board shrieki
ng.
It made a terrible noise like thunder when it was sinking. There were a great many Irish boys and girls drowned. I got out without any wound. There were a lot of men and women got wounded getting off the steamer.
A good many died coming out on the lifeboats and after getting on the Carpathia. It was a great change to us to get on this strange steamer as we had a great time on the Titanic. We got a very good diet and we had a very jolly time dancing and singing.
We had every type of instrument on board to amuse us, but all the amusement sank in the deep. I will write a note when I get to New York. Good-bye at present.
Dannie
Dannie was paid $100 in relief assistance by the American Red Cross. On 4 May 1912, he sent home a postcard of the Carpathia, telling his brother John: ‘I am sending you the picture of the ship that saved my life. Tell my mother to keep it and frame it. I hope she got better alright. I am getting on fine. Hoping ye are all well. Love to all. Dannie.’
Buckley testified before the Senate inquiry into the disaster, the only Irish passenger to do so. Senator Smith, chairman of the subcommittee, took his evidence separately and the questions posed emanate from this source:
This night of the wreck I was sleeping in my room on the Titanic, in the steerage. There were three other boys from the same place sleeping in the same room with me. I heard some terrible noise and I jumped out on the floor, and the first thing I knew my feet were getting wet; the water was just coming in slightly. I told the other fellows to get up, that there was something wrong and that the water was coming in. They only laughed at me. One of them says: ‘Get back into bed. You are not in Ireland now.’
I got my clothes on as quick as I could, and the three other fellows got out. The room was very small, so I got out, to give them room to dress themselves. Two sailors came along, and they were shouting: ‘All up on deck! Unless you want to get drowned.’
When I heard this, I went for the deck as quick as I could. When I got up on the deck I saw everyone having those lifebelts on only myself; so I got sorry, and said I would go back again where I was sleeping and get one of those life preservers; because there was one there for each person.