Countess of Rothes – Survivor of the Titanic
THE Countess of Rothes (Lucy Noel Martha DyerEdwards) was born in Kensington, London on December 25, 1878, the daughter of Thomas Dyer Edwardes and Clementina Villiers.
She married Norman Evelyn Leslie (19th Earl of Rothes) in Kensington on April 19 1900. In 1902 their son Malcolm was born, followed in 1909 by a second son, John.
The Countess boarded the Titanic at Southampton with her parents (travelling crosschannel only), her cousin Gladys Cherry and her maid Roberta Maioni. She was travelling to Vancouver, BC, Canada.
She and Miss Cherry occupied cabin B-77. Her parents disembarked at Cherbourg, leaving the Countess on board for the journey across the Atlantic.
The Countess later told of the experience to a reporter from the New York Herald.
“The pitiful sadness of our rowing, rowing toward the lights of a ship that disappeared. We in boat No. 8 saw some tramp steamer’s mast head lights, and then we saw the glow of red as she swung toward us for a few minutes. Then darkness and despair.
“I went to bed at half-past seven,” she said.
“And my cousin, Miss Gladys Cherry, who shared my room – No. 77 on deck B – also retired.
“It was bitterly cold. I was awakened by a slight jar and then a grating noise. I turned on the light and saw that it was 11:46, and I wondered at the sudden quiet.
“Gladys had not been awakened and I called her and asked did she not think it strange that the engines had stopped?
“As I opened our cabin door I saw a steward. He said we had struck some ice. Our fur coats over our night gowns were all the clothes we had.
“My cousin asked the chief steward if there was any danger and he answered, ‘Oh no, we have just grazed some ice and it does not amount to anything.’
“As we hurried along Lambert Williams came up and explained that the water-tight compartments must surely hold. Just then an officer hurried by. ‘Will you all get your lifebelts on! Dress warmly and come up to A deck!’ Quite stunned by the order, we all went.
“As I was going in to our stateroom my maid said water was pouring into the racquet court. I gave her some brandy, tied on her lifebelt and told her to go straight up on deck.
“We had to ask a steward where our lifebelts could be found. The man said he was sure they were unnecessary until we told him we had been ordered to do so.
“We dressed as warmly as we could and went up to A deck. Mr. Brown, (Possibly Ormskirk-born Walter James Brown, 1st Class Steward) the purser, touched his hat as we passed, saying: ‘It is quite all right; don’t hurry!’ What a lovely night it was!
“I stood close to Mrs. Astor. She was waiting under the starboard ports of the library and her husband got a chair for her. She was quite calm. The last I saw of Colonel Astor was when he still stood by his wife, trying to comfort her.
“Captain Smith stood shoulder to shoulder with me as I got into the life boat, and the last words were to the able – seaman – Tom Jones – ‘Row straight for those ship lights over there; leave your passengers on board of her and return as soon as you can.’
“Captain Smith’s whole attitude was one of great calmness and courage, and I am sure he thought that the ship – whose lights we could plainly see – would pick us up and that our life boats would be able to do double duty in ferrying passengers to the help that gleamed so near.
“There were two stewards in boat No. 8 with us and thirtyone women. The name of the steward was Crawford.
“We were lowered quietly to the water, and when we had pushed off from the Titanic’s side I asked the seaman if he would care to have me take the tiller, as I knew something about boats. He said, ‘Certainly, lady.’
“I climbed aft into the stern sheets and asked my cousin to help me.
“The first impression I had as we left the ship was that above all things we must not lose our self-control. We had no officer to take command of our boat, and the little seaman had to assume all the responsibility. He did it nobly, alternately cheering us with words of encouragement, then rowing doggedly.
“Then Signora de Satode Penasco began to scream for her husband. It was too horrible. I left the tiller to my cousin and slipped down beside her to be of what comfort I could.
“Poor woman! Her sobs tore our hearts and her moans were unspeakable in their sadness. Miss Cherry stayed at the tiller of our boat until the Carpathia picked us up.
“The most awful part of the whole thing was seeing the rows of portholes vanishing one by one. Several of us and Tom Jones wanted to row back and see if there was not some chance of rescuing any one that had possibly survived, but the majority in the boat ruled, that we had no right to risk their lives on the bare chance of finding anyone alive after the final plunge.
“They also said that the Captain’s own orders had been to ‘row for those ship lights over there,’ and that we who wished to try for others who might be drowning had no business to interfere with his orders. Of course that settled the matter, and we rowed on.
“Indeed, I saw – we all saw – a ship’s lights not more than three miles away!
“For three hours we pulled steadily for the two masthead lights that showed brilliantly in the darkness. For a few minutes we saw the ship’s port light, then it vanished, and the masthead lights got dimmer on the horizon until they too, disappeared.
“A Mrs Smith did yeoman service. She rowed for five hours with Tom Jones without taking a rest. Really, she was magnificent, not only in her attitude, but in the whole solid way in which she worked.
“Mrs Pearson also rowed, and my maid, Roberta Maioni, rowed the last half of the night.
“I did not know Mr Ismay by sight, until one night at dinner in the restaurant he came in late, and someone pointed him out to me as being the managing director of the line. There was no excitement of any kind, save that once the third class passengers became obstreperous, but it was instantly put down.
“When the awful end came, I tried my best to keep the Italian woman from hearing the agonizing sound of distress.
“They seemed to continue forever, although it could not have been more than 10 minutes until the silence of a lonely sea dropped down. The indescribable loneliness, the ghastliness of our feelings never can be told.
“We tried to keep in touch with the other boats by shouting and succeeded fairly well. arrived in New York on Thursday,
“Our boat was the furthest April 18. During the journey away because we had chased the Countess joined other the phantom lights for three women who had survived in hours. Yes, I rowed for three sewing clothes for the children hours.” out of blankets.
Roberta Maioni, the maid, The Earl of Rothes, who had said: “I was not at all frightened. not travelled with his wife on Everybody was saying as that fateful journey, died in we left the ship that ‘she was March 1927, the total value of good for 12 hours yet’ and I was his Will being £2,000. too numb to realize the terror On December 22, 1927 she of it all until we were safe on married Colonel Claude board the Carpathia.” Macfie DSO in Chelsea, London.
“Brave men, all that stood Birkdale born Claude back so that the women should Macfie was the younger have at least a chance to live!” brother of Morna Graham Hall said Lady Rothes. nee Macfie who was also born
“Their memories should be at Birkdale. held sacred in the mind of the Morna was the wife of the world forever.” Citation for the Reverend Henry Hawksley above piece: (1912) Titanic: Hall, who was the incumbent The Countess of Rothes and of Lathom Park Chapel for the Phantom Light New York many years and they lived at Herald (ref: #12639, URL: the Lathom Parsonage, Hall http://www.encyclopediatitanica.org/titanic-the-countess-of-rothes-and-the-phantom-light.html Lane. Morna and Claud’s father was the Scottish born Sugar Refiner William Macfie who owned a large Sugar refinery
The countess, her cousin in Liverpool. and maid were rescued in lifeboat The Countess volunteered as 8; she was later put to the a nurse in WWI, opening her tiller. As able seaman Thomas home to wounded officers. Jones put it “She had a lot to It is not certain that Claude say, so I put her to steering the and the Countess did visit his boat”. sister in Lathom but it is quite
This was not meant as a sarcastic likely that they did, Morna and remark, Jones seemed to Henry Hall retired to Aughton admire the Countess very much by WWII. and later presented her with the The Countess of Rothes, brass number plate from the Lucy Macfie retained her title boat, in later years they maintained after the death of her first husband a correspondence. under Scottish law and
The Countess was taken she died in Hove, Sussex on aboard the SS Carpathia and September 12 1956, aged 77.