A Night to Remember

Rostron bolted out of bed, ordered the ship turned, and then – after the order was given – double-checked Cottam:

‘Are you sure it is the Titanic and requires immediate assistance?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘You are absolutely certain?’

‘Quite certain.’

‘All right, tell him we are coming along as fast as we can.’

Rostron then rushed into the chart room and worked out the Carpathia’s new course. As he figured and scribbled, he saw the boatswain’s mate pass by, leading a party to scrub down the decks. Rostron told him to forget the decks and prepare the boats for lowering. The mate gaped. Rostron reassured him: ‘It’s all right; we’re going to another vessel in distress.’

In a few moments the new course was set – north 52 west. The Carpathia was fifty-eight miles away. At 14 knots she would take four hours to get there. Too long.

Rostron sent for chief engineer Johnstone, told him to pour it on – call out the off-duty watch … cut off the heat and hot water … pile every ounce of steam into the boilers.

Next, Rostron sent for First Officer Dean. He told him to knock off all routine work, organize the ship for rescue operations. Specifically, prepare and swing out all boats … . rig electric clusters along the ship’s side … open all gangway doors … hook block and line rope in each gangway … rig chair slings for the sick and injured, canvas and bags for hauling up children at every gangway … drop pilot ladders and side ladders at gangways and along the sides … rig cargo nets to help people up … prepare forward derricks (with steam in the winches) to hoist mail and luggage aboard … and have oil handy to pour down the lavatories on both sides of the ship, in case the sea grew rough.

Then he called the ship’s surgeon, Dr McGhee: collect all the restoratives and stimulants on the ship … set up first-aid stations in each dining-saloon … put the Hungarian doctor in charge of third class … the Italian doctor in second … McGhee himself in first.

Now it was Purser Brown’s turn: see that the chief steward, the assistant purser and himself each covered a different gangway – receive the Titanic’s passengers … get their names … channel them to the proper dining-saloon (depending on class) for medical check.

Finally, another barrage of orders for chief steward Harry Hughes: call out every man … prepare coffee for all hands … have soup, coffee, tea, brandy and whisky ready for survivors … pile blankets at every gangway … convert smoking-room, lounge and library into dormitories for the rescued … group all the Carpathia’s steerage passengers together, use the space saved for the Titanic’s steerage.

As he gave his orders, Rostron urged them all to keep quiet. The job ahead was tough enough without having the Carpathia’s passengers underfoot. The longer they slept, the better. As an extra precaution, stewards were stationed in every corridor. They were to tell any prowling passengers that the Carpathia wasn’t in trouble, urge them to go back to their cabins.

Then he sent an inspector, the master-at-arms and a special detail of stewards to keep the steerage passengers under control. After all, no one knew how they’d react to being shuffled about.

The ship sprang to life. Down in the engine room it seemed as if everyone had found a shovel and was pouring on the coal. The extra watch tumbled out of their bunks and raced to lend a hand. Most didn’t even wait to dress. Faster and faster the old ship knifed ahead – 14 … 14.5 … 15 … 16.5 … 17 knots. No one dreamed the Carpathia could drive so hard.

In the crew’s quarters a tug at his blanket woke up steward Robert H. Vaughan. A voice told him to get up and dress. It was pitch black, but Vaughan could hear his room-mates already pulling on their clothes. He asked what was up, and the voice said the Carpathia had hit an iceberg.

Vaughan stumbled to the porthole and looked out. The ship was driving ahead, white waves rolling out from her side. Obviously there was nothing wrong with the Carpathia. Bewildered, he and his mates continued dressing – all the more confused because someone had swiped their only light bulb and they had to get ready in the dark.

When they reached the deck, an officer put them to work collecting blankets. Then to the first-class dining-saloon … now a beehive of men scurrying about, shifting chairs, resetting tables, moving the liquor from the bar to the buffet. Still Vaughan and his mates couldn’t imagine the reason. Elsewhere word spread that Captain Rostron wanted 3,000 blankets for ‘that many extra people’. But nobody knew why.

At 1.15 they learned. The stewards were all mustered into the main dining-saloon and chief steward Hughes gave a little speech. He told them about the Titanic … explained their duties … paused … then delivered his ending : ‘Every man to his post and let him do his full duty like a true Englishman. If the situation calls for it, let us add another glorious page to British history.’