Dangerous Betrayal

by Bill Blowers

  Viko was filling up his Marconi forms so fast that he hardly had time to forward one before the next came in. He was annoyed at this frivolous use of wireless communication and found it questionable in light of the need to keep the wireless channels open to important messages about ice in the area.

  Later that morning, Peter Evans arrived at the wireless room to begin his eight o’clock morning shift. Viko was busily relaying a pile of trivial messages.

  “What’s all this?”

  “Peter, you are going to be busy. Would you believe these are all from the Titanic? Personal messages that have tied up the wireless most of the night.”

  Viko got up, stretched, and handed Evans a pile of unsent messages. “Here, have fun!” He turned and left to get breakfast and some sleep.

  Viko was surprised that he was able to sleep at all. Each hour brought him closer to the moment when he could turn a switch and several miles away Titanic would be forced to stop. He had planned everything perfectly. He was particularly proud of his tampering with the ship’s compass, just a few minutes of a degree off true north, but multiplied by thousands of miles it would put the ship ten to fifteen miles north of its assumed position. Even if they did manage to send their coordinates off by the wireless, they would be directing ships to the wrong location.

  After a short nap and a good meal he wandered around the ship, paused occasionally to watch a group of dolphins swim alongside, and marveled at their ability to keep pace with the ship for hours on end. Perhaps they thought the Californian was just a big dolphin, but more practically he figured they were probably just looking for any table morsels that might be dumped into the sea with the ship’s garbage.

  He busied himself with whatever small chores might catch his fancy and finally found his way to the bridge. Captain Lord and his second officer were placing small wooden squares on a map of the Atlantic spread before them.

  Viko looked at the map. “Can I assume that these wood blocks are representative of ice?”

  Lord nodded. “Right as usual. Evans has brought three Marconigrams with ice reports, and as you can see, ice is directly in our path. We may reduce our speed; it’s too soon to tell though. I want you to be especially mindful of ice reports tonight and bring them to the bridge immediately.”

  Viko reported to the wireless room a half hour before his shift was to begin.

  Evans said, “I received a message from the Cape [Newfoundland’s most easterly wireless station] that they were receiving Titanic quite well. I stopped the message relays. But the messages have kept right on coming, never heard anything like it. The wireless rarely stops, and at least two ships are complaining to the Titanic operators for tying up the channels. But it hasn’t helped a bit. They act like they own the airwaves.”

  “Have you told them about the ice warnings?”

  “Me and every operator for a thousand miles, and not one reply from Titanic.”

  Similar conversations were happening in the wireless rooms and bridges of at least a dozen ships plying the North Atlantic. The ships’ crews were acutely aware of the dangers of the sea, especially the stormy North Atlantic during late winter and early spring when ice added another measure of danger.

  Titanic wireless operators Jack Phillips and Harold Bride, experienced men in their own right, had been specifically directed by J. Bruce Ismay that passenger messages would take precedence over all other traffic. This directive was unknown to Captain Smith, the only man on the ship who had the authority to issue such a directive, and it blatantly flew in the face of safety and common sense. Ismay was interfering with everything and anything Titanic related, just as he had done since the first pencil was put to drafting linen in the design department of Harland and Wolff in 1907.

  Ismay had threatened Bride and Phillips that their jobs hinged upon following his orders. They continued transmitting the trivia that poured into their wireless room from excited passengers anxious to try this new method of sending letters for twenty dollars per Marconigram. Sitting off in the corner was a stack of messages from other ships containing the locations and details of ice. Neither of them took the time to reply to wireless operators scattered across the ocean acknowledging the ice warnings.

  This situation continued until the morning of April 14.

  Captain Smith happened by the wireless room to inquire how things were going and was handed a dozen notices of ice on the route ahead. Demanding an explanation as to why he wasn’t informed immediately of such danger, Phillips reluctantly informed him of Ismay’s directive about passenger messages. Ten minutes later there was quite a buzz going through the first-class lounge about Captain Smith and Second Officer Lightoller bodily grabbing Ismay from a game of cards and dragging him to the captain’s cabin, followed by an intense but muffled screaming match that could be heard through the walls.

  CHAPTER 44

  April 14—Early Morning

  Dawn broke on a smooth sea, one of the smoothest seen by any of the crew. The choppy windy weather that followed them the first days of the trip subsided, leaving the ocean surface like a mirror, the only disturbance being the wake created by the Californian as it steamed eastward at a steady fourteen knots. The wireless traffic about ice intensified during the night. One ship, the Liverpool, was surrounded by pack ice and had stopped until daylight.

  Viko stood outside the door looking out to sea through a pair of binoculars, hoping to spot the ice that everyone was talking about. He had seen the water temperature readings and was surprised at how cold the water had become. Two days earlier it had been thirty-six degrees. The most recent readings showed that they were now in water at twenty-nine degrees.

  During the night Viko had relayed four ice messages to Titanic. He asked for their coordinates. Captain Lord was keeping track of all the ships in the area to better understand the extent of danger posed by the ice. Titanic was less than seven hundred miles away and steaming directly toward the Californian. Viko calculated the closing distance and determined that they would pass within visual distance around nine p.m. Perfect! This day, April 14, 1912, would be remembered in history as the date the Titanic, man’s greatest mechanical marvel, would disappear off the charts only to be rediscovered a few weeks later by Nikola Tesla, just in the nick of time to “save” her passengers from the cold of the North Atlantic.

  No one on the Californian or Titanic knew that an ice field the size of Rhode Island floated in the path of both ships.

  Peter Evans arrived for his day shift at eight o’clock. He looked awful. His eyes were red, he had wrapped himself in every warm article of clothing he owned, and yet he shivered uncontrollably. When he coughed he sounded like a barking seal. Viko took one look at him and put his hand on his forehead. Evans was burning up with fever.

  “Peter, for God’s sake, man, get yourself back to bed. I’ll send the ship’s doctor down to see you.”

  “But Viko, you’ve been up all night. It’s not fair; who will be on duty?”

  “Don’t worry about me. I can stay up for days if I get enough coffee. We need you alive. Now get back to bed.”

  Viko hurried to the bridge and told Captain Lord of Evans’s condition and his intention to remain on duty throughout the day. He poured himself a large cup of hot black coffee, and as he went back to the wireless room he shouted over his shoulder, “Have someone bring me something to eat and a pot of coffee.”

  Lord turned to his second officer. “Give me more men like Viko and I would have the finest crew on the sea. Go arrange for the doctor to see Evans, and have the galley send a plate to Viko—and don’t forget the coffee.”

  Viko couldn’t believe his continued good fortune. He and only he would have complete control of the wireless room all day and into the night. He would be able to set up his special transmitter without interference or fear of discovery, and he was in a perfect position to keep track of Titanic’s location.

  As the day wore on, the wireless traffic became heavier with ice reports coming from sh
ips and from the station at the Cape. The trivial messages from Titanic’s powerful transmitter continued, but at least now her operators were replying to the ice reports. Curiously, Titanic had yet to report any ice.

  Viko left his watch just after noon to take ice warnings to the bridge. He found everyone looking off the port side of the ship, pointing north and commenting on the size of the iceberg just seen by one of the spotters in the crow’s nest. Never having seen an iceberg, Viko went over and joined them. On the horizon he saw the sun’s reflection off the brilliant white side of the ice. It was about ten miles away, and even at this distance it looked impressively large. Viko borrowed a pair of binoculars to get a better look and was surprised at the berg’s craggy, jagged appearance.

  Captain Lord gave a low whistle. “That’s a big one, Viko, the kind that can take down a ship. They say that less than 10 percent of an iceberg is above the water. Can you imagine how big that thing is?”

  Just then the spotter called down, “Dead ahead, on the horizon, large berg.”

  They all went to the front window of the bridge; the second officer shouted out, “There it is, just coming into view.”

  From the crow’s nest, the spotter called down again, “Off to starboard, several small bergs.”

  The sea was dotted with small floating pieces of ice, ranging in size from a few hundred pounds to perhaps a ton, too small to do any damage in themselves but serving as messengers that their large relatives were not far away.

  “Hold a steady course and speed,” Captain Lord said to the officers on the bridge. “You have my authority to slow the ship if the ice gets any heavier. Viko, get back to the wireless and report the large bergs.”

  On the way back to the wireless room Viko made a stop in his cabin to retrieve the small trunk that contained his transmitter and tools. Back in the wireless room, he covered the trunk with a piece of canvas and began to transmit the locations of the ice. He received messages from six ships thanking him for the information and one asking for a clarification. Surprisingly, he did not get a reply from Titanic. He was quite sure she was on the same heading they were and would pass quite close to the ice they had just seen.

  It was late in the afternoon when Viko noticed the change in rhythm of the Californian’s steam engine. Lord had ordered the speed reduced slightly to ten knots. In the past two hours, they had spotted six more large bergs. Passengers on deck were commenting on the beautiful icebergs, one of them less than two miles away. There was a flurry of excitement as the spotter in the crow’s nest pointed out three seals hitching a ride on the berg, and people were straining to catch a glimpse of them.

  Viko remained on duty as the traffic became busier. Titanic was once again sending a long series of personal messages, and her powerful transmitter was causing interference with ships’ attempts to communicate regarding the ice. When the Liverpool wireless operator asked that they stop the trivia until the ice was passed they got a terse “MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS” from the Titanic operator.

  In the early days of wireless ship-to-ship and ship-to-shore communication, there were very few, if any, protocols for communication. Marconi was busily building his transceivers, in actuality copies of Nikola Tesla’s design, and was equipping both ships and shore stations with them as fast as they could be produced. These were simple devices. One operating channel spilled over into adjacent channels, and if you happened to have a receiver in the vicinity of one of the more powerful transmitters, all channels would be affected and garbled messages would result. Just about everything that created sparks—lightning, motors, switches—was a source of annoying interference.

  There were no international agreements on language, distress calls, prioritizing of messages, or emergency channels. The response of the Titanic operators, when asked to cut down on the personal messages, may have been rude, but there was no precedent dictating procedures under such conditions. Inasmuch as they were annoying other ship operators by interfering with important safety messages, they posed a greater danger to themselves, their passengers, and their ship. And as time would show, the consequences would be disastrous.

  Viko started to take messages to the bridge and ran into a steward bringing him a hot meal and a message from the captain. Viko didn’t realize how hungry he was until the aroma of hot roast beef reached his nostrils and he found himself salivating. But as soon as he read the message that Captain Lord was sending, any thoughts of eating quickly left his mind.

  “CALIFORNIAN HAS SLOWED TO FIVE KNOTS. ICE CONDITIONS EXTREME. CAUTION IS ADVISED.”

  The slower speed, the second reduction in the space of just a few hours, was going to affect his timing for the close passage near Titanic. He quickly sent off the message as a general CQD (All Stations - Distress). He sent a direct message to Titanic asking if they were going to reduce speed. He received a terse reply indicating that Titanic was maintaining a steady twenty-four knots and to leave them alone. The strength of the signal that blasted through his headphones told him that they were closer than before.

  Viko did some math. He figured they would be at their closest at around ten-thirty p.m., about an hour and a half later than he previously calculated. It would give him additional time to prepare his transmitter. He relaxed a little and poured another cup of coffee.

  Waiting until darkness had descended, just after six Viko removed his small transmitter from the trunk. He opened a service panel on the Marconi wireless and located the antenna connection, verifying that it would reach his transmitter’s connection.

  He was ready—it was just a matter of time.

  His food was cold, but the growling from his stomach told him he’d better eat something. Viko had not eaten for at least a day, except for a half-gallon or so of coffee. He wolfed down the large plate of food.

  As his body began the task of digesting the roast beef and potatoes his eyelids grew heavy with fatigue. He had been running on adrenaline, and as his body returned to normal it craved rest. The steady ticking of the dots and dashes in his earphones was hypnotic. He leaned back in his chair, felt the gentle vibration of the engines massaging his sore back, and nodded off to sleep.

  Viko awakened with a start. The Californian was deathly still. There was no engine vibration. He ripped off the headphones and hurried to the door. It was bitter cold. The sky above was black velvet, dotted with millions of points of starlight, split down the middle by the Milky Way—a breathtakingly beautiful sight.

  He looked aft. There was no wake wave behind the ship. They were floating freely with the gentle current. He had never experienced a ship being this still except when tied up at a dock. He pulled out his pocket watch: ten-twenty p.m. He had been asleep for nearly two hours. When did the ship stop? Why did it stop? Did he miss the passage of Titanic?

  He ran to the bridge and rushed in to find Captain Lord and two officers standing around the table shaking their heads.

  “Captain Lord, I am sorry, I fell asleep. Why have we stopped?”

  “No need to panic, Viko. We stopped about an hour ago. We shut down the engines at nine-fifteen and are just maintaining one boiler for heat and electricity. We’re surrounded by ice. We’ll wait until daylight before we proceed. We’ve turned on all the ship’s lights so no one will run into us out here, although I think that’s unlikely. Any captain in the area will stop for the night also. I’m letting everyone get a good night’s sleep since there is little else we can do. I suggest that you turn in also.”

  Viko hurried back to the wireless room, his mind a maelstrom of emotion. Was it possible that he came this far and an ice field would thwart his plans? Had Titanic stopped also? How far away were they? Had he missed his chance? Was all the planning and work for nothing?

  He put on his earphones and heard yet another frivolous message from Titanic. Now he was angry. How could these idiots tie up their wireless for hours on end like this? He keyed his transmitter, using the CQD prefix, informing Titanic that the Californian had stopped for the night due t
o ice and requested their status.

  He received an abrupt message in return: “LEAVE US ALONE WE ARE WORKING THE CAPE. YOU ARE BLASTING US. WE ARE AT 41° 18’ N, 49° 40’ W STEAMING AT 24 KNOTS.”

  They were about thirty miles away, steaming toward the ice field at full speed. Viko had to warn them: “MAJOR ICE FIELD AT 42° 22’ N, 51° 22’ W.”

  Only to get in return: “I SAID LEAVE US ALONE.”

  They can’t say they weren’t warned, Viko thought to himself.

  He did some mental figuring and determined that Titanic would be closest to them later than originally thought, most likely at about eleven-thirty-five. There was no longer a need for the Marconi wireless that night. Viko disconnected the antenna wire and connected it to his transmitter. He turned on the power and saw the glow from within its vacuum tubes confirming that everything was ready.

  Only one more hour to wait for the event he had planned for months.

  He stepped outside, closed and locked the door, and went to the galley for coffee. A few crewmembers were there, mostly men from the boiler room. Two other crewmembers were assigned the job of night watch, but when a ship is stationary there is nothing to watch so they sat in a corner playing cards.

  “Viko, what are you doing up at this hour?”

  “You know me, can’t sleep. I’m going to wander around the ship for a while, check for incoming messages, look at the stars until I get tired enough to go to bed. What are you guys up to?”

  “We’re supposed to be on watch, but fully hemmed in by ice. Who in their right mind would continue traveling tonight, especially with no moon or waves? We might wander around the deck occasionally but probably spend the night right here. It’s colder than hell out there.”

  Viko, assured of complete privacy, walked back to the wireless room. He sat in his chair, placed his pocket watch on the table in front of him, and watched the seconds tick by. The hot coffee tasted good but not as sweet as the revenge he was about to inflict on a man who thought he was above the law. A fat little man was about to learn the true meaning of fear.