ENGELHARDT BOAT “A.”
Floated off the ship.
Passengers: T. Beattie,* P. D. Daly,† G. Rheims, R. N. Williams, Jr., first-class; O. Abelseth,† W. J. Mellers, second-class; and Mrs. Rosa Abbott,† Edward Lindley,‡ third-class.
Crew: Steward: E. Brown. Firemen: J. Thompson, one unidentified body.* Seaman: one unidentified body.*
* Body found in boat by Oceanic.
† Pulled into boat out of sea.
‡ Died in boat.
An extraordinary story pertains to this boat. At the outset of my research it was called a “boat of mystery,” occasioned by the statements of the Titanic’s officers. In his conversations with me, as well as in his testimony, Officer Lightoller stated that he was unable to loosen this boat from the ship in time and that he and his men were compelled to abandon their efforts to get it away. The statement in consequence was that this boat “A” was not utilized but went down with the ship. My recent research has disabused his mind of this supposition. There were only four Engelhardt boats in all as we have already learned, and we have fully accounted for “the upset boat B,” and “D,” the last to leave the ship in the tackles, and boat “C,” containing Mr. Ismay, which reached the Carpathia’s side and was unloaded there. After all the mystery we have reached the conclusion that boat “A” did not go down with the ship, but was the one whose occupants were rescued by Officer Lowe in the early morning, and then abandoned with three dead bodies in it. This also was the boat picked up nearly one month later by the Oceanic nearly 200 miles from the scene of the wreck.
I have made an exhaustive research up to date for the purpose of discovering how Boat A left the ship. Information in regard thereto is obtained from the testimony before the British Court of Inquiry of Steward Edward Brown, from first-class passenger R. N. Williams, Jr., and from an account of William J. Mellers, a second cabin passenger as related by him to Dr. Washington Dodge. Steward Brown, it will be observed, testified that he was washed out of the boat and yet “did not know whether he went down in the water.” As he could not swim, an analysis of his testimony forces me to believe that he held on to the boat and did not have to swim and that boat “A” was the same one that he was in when he left the ship. I am forced to the same conclusion in young Williams’ case after an analysis of his statement that he took off his big fur overcoat in the water and cast it adrift while he swam twenty yards to the boat, and in some unaccountable way the fur coat swam after him and also got into the boat. At any rate it was found in the boat when it was recovered later as shown in the evidence.
I also have a letter from Mr. George Rheims, of Paris, indicating his presence on this same boat with Messrs. Williams and Mellers and Mrs. Abbott and others.
INCIDENTS
Edward Brown, steward (Br. Inq.):
Witness helped with boats 5, 3, 1 and C, and then helped with another collapsible; tried to get it up to the davits when the ship gave a list to port. The falls were slackened but the boat could not be hauled away any further. There were four or five women waiting to get into the boat. The boat referred to was the collapsible boat “A” which they got off the officers’ house. They got it down by the planks, but witness does not know where the planks came from. He thinks they were with the bars which came from the other boats; yet he had no difficulty in getting the boat off the house. The ship was then up to the bridge under water, well down by the head. He jumped into the boat then and called out to cut the falls. He cut them at the aft end, but cannot say what happened to the forward fall. He was washed out of the boat but does not know whether he went down in the water.[37] He had his lifebelt on and came to the top. People were all around him. They tore his clothes away struggling in the water. He could not swim, but got into the collapsible boat “A.” Only men were in it, but they picked up a woman and some men afterwards, consisting of passengers, stewards and crew. There were sixteen men. Fifth Officer Lowe in boat No. 14 picked them up.
[37] Italics are mine.—Author.
O. Abelseth (Am. Inq.):
Witness describes the period just before the ship sank when an effort was made to get out the collapsible boats on the roof of the officers’ house. The officer wanted help and called out: “Are there any sailors here?” It was only about five feet to the water when witness jumped off. It was not much of a jump. Before that he could see the people were jumping over. He went under and swallowed some water. A rope was tangled around him. He came on top again and tried to swim. There were lots of men floating around. One of them got him on the neck and pressed him under the water and tried to get on top, but he got loose from him. Then another man hung on to him for a while and let go. Then he swam for about fifteen or twenty minutes. Saw something dark ahead of him; swam towards it and it was one of the Engelhardt boats (“A”). He had a life-preserver on when he jumped from the ship. There was no suction at all. “I will try and see,” he thought, “if I can float on the lifebelt without help from swimming,” and he floated easily on the lifebelt. When he got on boat “A” no one assisted him, but they said when he got on: “Don’t capsize the boat,” so he hung on for a little while before he got on.
Some were trying to get on their feet who were sitting or lying down; others fell into the water again. Some were frozen and there were two dead thrown overboard. On the boat he raised up and continuously moved his arms and swung them around to keep warm. There was one lady aboard this raft and she (Mrs. Abbott) was saved. There were also two Swedes and a first-class passenger. He said he had a wife and child. There was a fireman also named Thompson who had burned one of his hands; also a young boy whose name sounded like “Volunteer.” He and Thompson were afterwards at St. Vincent’s Hospital. In the morning he saw a boat with a sail up, and in unison they screamed together for help. Boat A was not capsized and the canvas was not raised up, and they could not get it up. They stood all night in about twelve or fourteen inches of water[38]—their feet in water all the time. Boat No. 14 sailed down and took them aboard and transferred them to the Carpathia, he helping to row. There must have been ten or twelve saved from boat A; one man was from New Jersey, with whom he came in company from London. At daybreak he seemed unconscious. He took him by the shoulder and shook him. “Who are you?” he said; “let me be; who are you?” About half an hour or so later he died.
[38] Italics are mine.—Author.
In a recent letter from Dr. Washington Dodge he refers to a young man whom he met on the Carpathia, very much exhausted, whom he took to his stateroom and gave him medicine and medical attention. This young man was a gentleman’s valet and a second cabin passenger. This answers to the description of William J. Mellers, to whom I have written, but as yet have received no response. Dr. Dodge says he believes this young man’s story implicitly: He, Mellers, “was standing by this boat when one of the crew was endeavoring to cut the fastenings that bound it to the vessel just as the onrush of waters came up which tore it loose. It was by clinging to this boat that he was saved.”
R. N. Williams, Jr., in his letter writes me as follows:
“I was not under water very long, and as soon as I came to the top I threw off the big fur coat I had on. I had put my lifebelt on under the coat. I also threw off my shoes. About twenty yards away I saw something floating. I swam to it and found it to be a collapsible boat. I hung on to it and after a while got aboard and stood up in the middle of it. The water was up to my waist.[39] About thirty of us clung to it. When Officer Lowe’s boat picked us up eleven of us were alive; all the rest were dead from cold. My fur coat was found attached to this Engelhardt boat ‘A’ by the Oceanic, and also a cane marked ‘C. Williams.’ This gave rise to the story that my father’s body was in this boat, but this, as you see, is not so. How the cane got there I do not know.”
[39] Italics are mine.—Author.
Through the courtesy of Mr. Harold Wingate of the White Star Line in letters to me I have the following information pertaining to boat “A”:
“One of the bodies found in this boat was that of Mr. Thompson Beattie. We got his watch and labels from his clothes showing his name and that of the dealer, which we sent to the executor. Two others were a fireman and a sailor, both unidentified. The overcoat belonging to Mr. Williams I sent to a furrier to be re-conditioned, but nothing could be done with it except to dry it out, so I sent it to him as it was. There was no cane in the boat. The message from the Oceanic and the words ‘R. N. Williams, care of Duane Williams,’ were twisted by the receiver of the message to ‘Richard N. Williams, cane of Duane Williams,’[40] which got into the press, and thus perpetuated the error.
“There was also a ring found in the boat whose owner we eventually traced in Sweden and restored the property to her. We cannot account for its being in the boat, but we know that her husband was a passenger on the Titanic—Edward P. Lindell, a third-class passenger. The widow’s address is, care of Nels Persson, Helsingborg, Sweden.”
[40] Italics are mine.—Author.
Rescue of the occupants of boat “A” at daylight Monday morning is recorded in the testimony of Officer Lowe and members of the crew of his boat No. 14 and the other boats 12, 10, 4 and “D” which were tied together. No. 14 we recall was emptied of passengers and a crew taken from all the boats referred to went back to the wreck. The substance of the testimony of all of them agrees and I need only cite that of Quartermaster Bright, in charge of boat “D,” as follows:
A. Bright, Q. M. (in charge) (Am. Inq., p. 834):
Just at daylight witness saw from his place in boat “D” one of the other collapsible boats, “A,” that was awash just flush with the water. Officer Lowe came and towed witness’s boat to the other collapsible one that was just awash and took from it thirteen men and one woman who were in the water up to their ankles. They had been singing out in the dark. As soon as daylight came they could be seen. They were rescued and the boat turned adrift with two dead bodies in it, covered with a lifebelt over their faces.
Admiral Mahan on Ismay’s duty:
Rear Admiral A. T. Mahan, retired, in a letter which the Evening Post publishes, has this to say of J. Bruce Ismay’s duty:
In the Evening Post of April 24 Admiral Chadwick passes a distinct approval upon the conduct of Mr. Ismay in the wreck of the Titanic by characterizing the criticisms passed upon it as the “acme of emotionalism.”
Both censure and approval had best wait upon the results of the investigations being made in Great Britain. Tongues will wag, but if men like Admiral Chadwick see fit to publish anticipatory opinions those opinions must receive anticipatory comment.
Certain facts are so notorious that they need no inquiry to ascertain. These are (1) that before the collision the captain of the Titanic was solely responsible for the management of the ship; (2) after the collision there were not boats enough to embark more than one-third of those on board, and, (3) for that circumstance the White Star Company is solely responsible, not legally, for the legal requirements were met, but morally. Of this company, Mr. Ismay is a prominent if not the most prominent member.
For all the loss of life the company is responsible, individually and collectively: Mr. Ismay personally, not only as one of the members. He believed the Titanic unsinkable; the belief relieves of moral guilt, but not of responsibility. Men bear the consequences of their mistakes as well as of their faults. He—and Admiral Chadwick—justify his leaving over fifteen hundred persons, the death of each one of whom lay on the company, on the ground that it was the last boat half filled; and Mr. Ismay has said, no one else to be seen.
No one to be seen; but was there none to be reached? Mr. Ismay knew there must be many, because he knew the boats could take only a third. The Titanic was 882 feet long; 92 broad; say, from Thirty-fourth street to a little north of Thirty-seventh. Within this space were congregated over 1,500 souls, on several decks. True, to find any one person at such a moment in the intricacies of a vessel were a vain hope; but to encounter some stragglers would not seem to be. Read in the Sun and Times of April 25 Col. Gracie’s account of the “mass of humanity, men and women” that suddenly appeared before him after the boats were launched.
In an interview reported in the New York Times April 25 Admiral Sir Cyprian Bridge, a very distinguished officer, holds that Mr. Ismay was but a passenger, as other passengers. True, up to a certain point. He is in no sense responsible for the collision; but when the collision had occurred he confronted a wholly new condition for which he was responsible and not the captain, viz., a sinking vessel without adequate provision for saving life. Did no obligation to particularity of conduct rest upon him under such a condition?
I hold that under the conditions, so long as there was a soul that could be saved, the obligation lay upon Mr. Ismay that that one person and not he should have been in the boat. More than 1,500 perished. Circumstances yet to be developed may justify Mr. Ismay’s actions completely, but such justification is imperatively required. If this be “the acme of emotionalism” I must be content to bear the imputation.
Admiral Chadwick urges the “preserving a life so valuable to the great organization to which Mr. Ismay belongs.” This bestows upon Mr. Ismay’s escape a kind of halo of self-sacrifice. No man is indispensable. There are surely brains enough and business capacity enough in the White Star company to run without him. The reports say that of the rescued women thirty-seven were widowed by the accident and the lack of boats. Their husbands were quite as indispensable to them as Mr. Ismay to the company. His duty to the ship’s company was clear and primary; that to the White Star company so secondary as to be at the moment inoperative.
We should be careful not to pervert standards. Witness the talk that the result is due to the system. What is a system, except that which individuals have made it and keep it? Whatever thus weakens the sense of individual responsibility is harmful, and so likewise is all condonation of failure of the individual to meet his responsibility.
CONCLUDING NOTE
By Charles Vale
COLONEL GRACIE died on the fourth of December, 1912. He had been in feeble health all through the summer, but had no definite physical complaint. He felt ill and weak, and ascribed his condition to the exposure and strain through which he went in the Titanic disaster. Mrs. Gracie and his daughter were with him up to the end, which he knew was coming, for the day before he died he had the minister of the Church of the Incarnation brought to his bedside, and Holy Communion was administered. On the next day he was unconscious for twelve hours; but just before he died he became conscious for about ten minutes, recognizing everyone and bidding them good-bye.
The funeral service was held at Calvary Church, where he was married, and a large number of the members of the Seventh Regiment, to which he belonged, were present. The church was beautifully decorated. Mrs. Astor was there, and many other Titanic survivors, several of whom Colonel Gracie had helped into the boats at the time of the disaster. The interment took place at the Gracie plot at Woodlawn.
And so his book finishes here. He had intended to write a final chapter, reviewing the tragedy of the Titanic in retrospect, and in the light of all the later information that he had gathered; drawing the lessons that seemed most necessary in the present, and most serviceable for the future; and rounding out his story with the finishing touches.
But the actual Finis must be written by another hand. Well, it does not greatly matter. The real work has been completed, in its entirety. The picture has been drawn, the details faithfully gathered together and arranged in their due order. The rest was merely an affair of reflection and comment; and of such looking backward there has been already sufficient.
I met Colonel Gracie, for the first—and last—time, at a luncheon at the Waldorf-Astoria, in New York, when the world was still ringing with echoes of the great catastrophe. The extraordinary experiences through which he had passed, and the terrible scenes that he had witnessed, were still as vivid to him as if they had happened the day before; but he talked very quietly, directly, unaffectedly, neither obtruding nor avoiding the personal element. There was something strangely gracious in his attitude; I heard no harsh or condemnatory word from him: he seemed to have the rare gift of comprehension of human nature, the rare sense of proportion. He accused no man of cowardice or inefficiency; but narrated the facts as he saw them, volunteering no inferences. And gradually, in that atmosphere of careless, casual security; with men and women from every corner of more than one continent scattered about the room; with all the obvious, and more subtle, presuppositions of civilization that a luxurious hotel in a huge metropolis illustrates;—there was evolved the picture of the great ship, going to her doom in the night, with her living cargo. I cannot express fully the vividness of that image,—carved, as it were, from the darkness of memory and imposed on the sunlight of a summer’s day. It stands out for me, ineffaceable, unforgettable—as it must stand out for all who passed through those tragic hours and still live to recall how near they were to death. One retraced the growing realization of the gravity of the situation; the conviction that the ship must inevitably sink before help could arrive; and, finally, the resolute facing of destiny. Good and bad deeds were done that night and morning: but the good outvalue the bad, immeasurably; and when the littlenesses have been duly reckoned, and the few cowards dismissed, and the uncouth or selfish weighed and found wanting, there remains the grand total of brave and steadfast men and women whose names must be enrolled imperishably in any record of world-heroism.
In a note like this, closing a work which depends so much on the intimate connection of the author with the scenes that he describes, it is permissible to be personal. I had read, in a daily paper, Colonel Gracie’s first account of his experiences; had been struck by the special quality of the writing, by the pervading atmosphere of true chivalry—no other word can suggest quite adequately the impression conveyed by that narrative, written under the stress of poignant memories. I think that the effect produced by the account was the same with all who read it: certainly I have met no one who did not recognize the spirituality and fineness shining through the written words—a spirituality not opposed to, but entirely in consonance with, the unmistakable virility of the author. And so, when I met him, I was peculiarly interested in his personality: it seemed to me that this man who was sitting at my left hand, talking quietly, had descended as distinctly into hell as any human being would care to acknowledge, and had risen again from the dead—or, at least, from the sea of the dead—into a world which could never again be quite the same to him. I found myself looking from time to time at his eyes; and I saw in them what I have seen only once or twice in the eyes of living men—the experience of death, the acceptance of death, and, the irrevocable impress of death. And, though he carried himself as a man accustomed to adventures and unafraid of the big or little ironies of destiny, he was conscious, I think, of a certain isolation, a new aloofness from the ordinary routine of daily life. He had been so near to the end of dreams, had seen the years flash past so suddenly into true perspective, that it was difficult to resume the trivial round and reconstitute a mental world in which details should acquire again their former pretence of importance.
Colonel Gracie survived for less than eight months after the loss of the Titanic. Judged by the imperfect reckoning of impulse, it would seem almost unfair that he should have gone through so much, winning his life in the face of such deadly hazards, only to surrender it after a brief interval. But he himself would have been the last to complain. His implicit faith in Providence could not be shaken by any personal suffering. He made a brave fight for life, as he had made a brave fight for the lives of others while the Titanic was sinking. When the end was inevitable, he accepted it with composure, though he had foreseen it with sadness.
The thought of the tragedy with which his name will always be associated, was constantly in his mind. The writing of his book involved a great deal of intimate correspondence, with the perpetual revival of painful memories. He made no effort to evade this strain: it was part of the task that he had undertaken. He felt strongly that the work he was doing was absolutely necessary, and could not be neglected. It was both a public service and a private duty. Simply and sincerely, he dedicated himself to that service and duty. And now, he has done his work, and lived his life, and gone out into the light beyond the darkness. His country has lost a very gallant gentleman. The world has one more legend of brave deeds.
Transcriber’s Note
Hyphenation has been made consistent.
Punctuation errors have been repaired.
The footnote on page [28] states “See page —”. Presumably a page number should have been inserted, but was not, and it is preserved as printed.
Page [259] includes the phrase “an ever-ending meadow.” This is probably a typesetting error and should read “a never-ending meadow,” but it is preserved as printed.
Where there were inconsistencies in the spelling of proper names, they have been made consistent, with reference to published editions of the two Titanic enquiries and other primary sources, as follows:
Page [40]—Cassobeer amended to Cassebeer—... made in my presence by Mrs. H. A. Cassebeer, ...
Page [64]—Whitely amended to Whiteley—... interview of a Saloon Steward, Thomas Whiteley, ...
Page [178]—Roberts amended to Robert—Neither my aunt, Mrs. Robert, my cousin, ...
Page [183]—Symon amended to Symons—Senator Perkins (addressing Perkis, Symons and Hogg:)
Page [185]—Symon amended to Symons—You did not get any orders, Mr. Symons ...
Page [185]—Symon amended to Symons—Mr. Symons: No, sir; there were no more ...
Page [185]—Symon amended to Symons—As I understand it, Mr. Symons pulled away ...
Page [185]—Symon amended to Symons—Mr. Symons made no reply.
Page [209]—Navatil amended to Navratil—... everybody was looking for (the Navratil children).
Page [262]—Francetelli amended to Francatelli—... Lady Duff Gordon and maid (Miss Francatelli).
Page [268]—Soloman amended to Solomon—A man named A. L. Solomon also asked ...
Page [269]—Hendricksen amended to Hendrickson—Charles Hendrickson, leading fireman ...
Page [269]—Hendricksen amended to Hendrickson—Hendrickson recalled.
Page [275]—Hendricksen’s amended to Hendrickson’s—It was shown in Hendrickson’s evidence ...
Page [276]—Hendricksen amended to Hendrickson—... given in the first instance by Hendrickson, ...
Page [287]—Thessenger amended to Thessinger—There was Wheelton, McMicken, Thessinger, Wheate and myself.
Page [307]—Finley amended to Finlay—Examined by Sir Robert Finlay ...
Page [307]—Finley amended to Finlay—Mr. Finlay: Have you crossed ...
Page [307]—Finley amended to Finlay—Mr. Finlay: Have you ever, ...
Page [308]—Finley amended to Finlay—Mr. Finlay: When you left ...
The following amendments have been made on the assumption of printer errors:
Page [62]—pasengers amended to passengers—... Second Officer Lightoller ordered all passengers ...
Page [73]—de amended to du—... namely the wreck of the Ville du Havre ...
Page [99]—chapter amended to Chapter—... are recorded in the history of Boat B in Chapter V, ...
Page [153]—passenger amended to passengers—No male passengers in this boat.
Page [154]—passenger amended to passengers—No male passengers in this boat.
Page [170]—passenger amended to passengers—No male passengers.
Page [181]—man passenger amended to male passengers—No male passengers in this boat.
Page [199]—passenger amended to passengers—No male passengers in this boat.
Page [225]—chapter amended to Chapter—... while the previous Chapter VI is derived ...
The following amendments have been made for consistency:
Page [120]—No amended to NO—BOAT NO. 6.
Page [121]—omitted p. added—... (Am. Inq., p. 363) ...
Page [155]—omitted p. added—... (Am. Inq., p. 116).
Page [170]—omitted word ‘BOAT’ added and No amended to NO—BOAT NO. 16.
Page [172]—No amended to NO—BOAT NO. 2.
Page [181]—No amended to NO—BOAT NO. 4.
Page [243]—omitted p. added—... (Am. Inq., p. 1041): ...
Page [248]—No amended to NO—BOAT NO. 3.
Page [248]—omitted p. added—... (Am. Inq., p. 559): ...
Page [261]—No amended to NO—EMERGENCY BOAT NO. 1.
Page [279]—omitted p. added—... (Am. Inq., p. 755): ...
Page [281]—omitted p. added—... (Am. Inq., p. 595): ...
Page [283]—omitted p. added—... (Am. Inq., p. 602): ...
Page [284]—omitted p. added—... (Am. Inq., p. 648): ...
Page [290]—omitted p. added—... (Am. Inq., p. 798): ...
Page [319]—omitted p. added—... (Am. Inq., p. 834): ...
The frontispiece illustration has been moved to follow the title page. Other illustrations have been moved where necessary so that they are not in the middle of a paragraph.