Weekend Argus (Saturday Edition)
Demise of the Titanic
The sinking of the ‘unsinkable’ great liner is one of the stories from the archives of the Argus’s 160-year-old titles
BY THE time Cape Town readers learned in the special edition of April 15, 1912 that the Titanic had struck an iceberg hours earlier and was calling for assistance from other vessels, one of the world’s deadliest peacetime maritime disasters had long played itself out in the icy waters of the northern Atlantic.
The present-tense reporting in that first story – “Great liner’s peril – Wireless messages for aid – Awful uncertainty” – might tantalisingly have implied that all was not lost for the world’s largest ship, the 46 000 ton Titanic, on its maiden voyage to New York.
But the hope – such as it was – must surely have been dispelled by the telling line: “The last message from the Titanic to the Virginian was blurred and ended abruptly.”
A day later it emerged that a bitter delusion had lingered in Britain.
“Londoners went to bed last night under the impression that everyone on board the Titanic had been rescued and that the vessel was unsinkable.
“Mr Philip Franklin, the vice- president of the International Mercantile Marine, which controls the White Star Line, stated: ‘We are perfectly satisfied that the Titanic is unsinkable. We are absolutely certain that she is able to withstand any damage. She may be down by the head, but she would float indefinitely in that condition’.”
All the morning papers had leaders about the vessel steaming slowly for Halifax.
Nature, however, foiled the great marvel of the unsinkable Titanic, claiming the lives of more than 1 600 of the vessel’s 2 358 passengers and crew.
Once the fact of it had sunk in, all attention fell on the liner, Carpathia, slowly making its way to New York with survivors. Physicians, nurses and all the police reserves of New York were ordered to the White Star Line pier.
“Women were wailing as the liner slowly warped into dock.
“The survivors began landing at 9.35am. Typically, there were confused accounts of the disaster.”
It was reported that “a pathetic incident of the tragedy is the separation of parents from children. Seven babies were brought ashore from the Carpathia and are now in one of the New York foundling asylums. They were thrown into the lifeboats by their parents.”
One of the most vivid accounts of the disaster, from start to finish, was given by one of the survivors on the Carpathia, a Mr Beesley, from London.
He had been in his berth for about 10 minutes “when about 10.15pm I felt a slight jar, then soon after a second one, but not sufficient to cause the slightest anxiety. However, the engines were stopped immediately”.
“I first thought the ship had lost her propeller, and went on deck in a dressing gown. I found only a few people who had come up like myself to enquire, but they were in no way anxious.
“I saw a game of cards going on in the smoking-room, and went in to enquire if the players knew anything. It seems they felt more than a jar, and looking out of the window I saw a huge iceberg pass close to the vessel, and thought we had grazed it with a glancing blow.
“No-one had any conception that she was pierced below by the submerged part of the iceberg. The game went on, and no one thought of disaster. I retired to my cabin to read till the ship went on again.
“A little later, hearing people going upstairs, I went out again and found everyone wanting to know why the engines had stopped. There was no doubt that many passengers were wakened from sleep by the sudden stopping of the vibration.
“I noticed a list from the stern to the bows, and imagined that some of the front compartments were filled and weighted down. I went down again for warmer clothing.
“As I was dressing I heard the order: ‘All passengers on deck with life-belts’. We all walked up slowly with life-belts over our clothing. Even then we presumed this was a safe precaution the captain was taking and that we would return and shortly retire to bed.
“There was a total absence of panic, probably owing to the exceedingly calm night, and the absence of any signs of accident. The ship was absolutely still and except for the gentle lilt downwards, I don’t think one person in 10 was concerned.
“But a few moments later, I saw the covers lifted from the boats and the crews standing by ready to lower them. It was then realised that something serious was happening.
“People were now pouring up. Presently, the order was given: ‘All men, stand back from the boats; all ladies will retire to the next deck below’.
“The men stood back in absolute silence, leaning on the railings and pacing the deck. Boats were slung out and lowered to the deck below, where the ladies got in quietly, except some who refused to leave their husbands.
“Some were torn from their husbands and pushed into the boats. About two o’clock, I observed her settling very rapidly, the bows and bridge were completely submerged. She slowly tilted straight on end with her stern vertically upwards. The lights flashed and went out altogether.
“I heard the machinery roaring down through the vessel with a rattle and groaning, which was audible for miles. It was the weirdest sound imaginable in mid-ocean.
“She remained upright for some time, I should estimate about five minutes at least, 150 feet (45.7m) of the hull towering up black against the sky.
“Then, with a quiet slanting dive she disappeared.
“There fell on our ears the most appalling noise a human being ever listened to, the cries for help of hundreds of our fellow beings struggling in the icy water, which cries we knew could not be answered.”