A Night to Remember

Much of the Titanic’s crew was plucked from her sister ship, the Olympic, a White Star Line steamship considered second only to the Titanic herself in level of luxury, impressive technological accouterments, and sophistication of engineering. Many of the crew members were unfamiliar with the new arm-and-davit system installed on the Titanic for lowering the lifeboats, which could have rendered their preparation and launch difficult even under the most routine circumstances but became a significant challenge when attempting to prepare and lower the lifeboats in the hectic and emotionally charged atmosphere on deck. A lifeboat drill had been scheduled for the crew, but Captain Smith had canceled it, so many (if not all) of the crew members were using the davits for the first time. Passengers were unaware of where they were supposed to go; there were crew assignments, but no crew members bothered to consult them that night, and no passenger assignments indicated to which boat each passenger should report. Much of the reluctance of the female passengers on board to get into the lifeboats, especially as the first few boats launched, could be attributed to the perception that even if the Titanic were disabled in the water and unable to proceed to New York, there was no reason to abandon her so soon.

Most passengers and crew were under the impression that “unsinkable” meant that the Titanic could float in place for an indeterminate but ample amount of time until rescue efforts could be coordinated, again emphasizing the theme of Nature Versus the “Unsinkable” Ship—the Arrogance of Technology. The lack of lifeboats on board the Titanic didn’t concern passengers and crew because the pervasively held belief was that the lifeboats on the Titanic could and would serve only one potential purpose: the ferrying of the Titanic’s passengers from the Titanic to a rescue ship. For some passengers, especially first-class passengers accustomed to a certain level of comfort, security, and luxury—particularly in a hospitality situation in which they were paying for amenities and services—it would be absurd to hasten into a lifeboat to wait hours for a rescue ship when they could just as easily wait aboard Titanic in their dedicated lounges for help to arrive. At no point was an announcement made to impress upon the passengers that the boat would sink and that it was imperative that they take advantage of a seat on a lifeboat if it were offered to them. The panic that ensued once passengers realized that there weren’t enough boats for everyone aboard—and that the Titanic wouldn’t remain afloat until help arrived—indicated that events might have unfolded much differently had that information been available earlier on.

Thomas Andrews occupied a leadership role from the moment he stepped aboard the Titanic; he was widely respected not only for his immense talents as a shipbuilder but for his character. Crew members and stewards alike sought his council, often in lieu of the captain’s, when they faced interpersonal or professional dilemmas, and he never hesitated to provide comfort and guidance. When crew members and passengers approached him looking for insight and the reality of the situation and the wisdom to make the right choices in the moment, he shared details according to what he felt the inquisitor could handle hearing, leveling with those he felt would appreciate the honesty without panicking. Thomas Andrews spent the entire maiden voyage of the Titanic assessing every minute detail and aspect of her operation once they were underway. Whether it was the decision to renovate a segment of the ladies’ writing lounge into two more staterooms due to the lack of popularity of the space or amendments to ease the workflow in the first-class kitchens, he dedicated his time on board to scrutinizing the ship for areas of improvement. Once he assessed the severity of the hull breach, Thomas Andrews realized that he would die on the Titanic, and the sense of helplessness and defeat likely factored heavily in his emotional responses as he accepted that the Titanic was going to founder. He’d accounted for every detail, yet on her maiden voyage, the Titanic had encountered one of the few unexpected scenarios that would ensure she never sailed again.

Walter Lord portrays the actions of the crew of the Californian as inept and bumbling in their lack of effort in trying to communicate with the Titanic. Although 24-hour wireless service wasn’t common protocol on all transatlantic vessels and many wireless operators retired for the night around 11 o’ clock at night, as the Californian’s operator did, many believe that they could have been less obtuse in presuming nothing was amiss and tried to rouse their wireless operator to make contact. Maritime historians have determined that the Californian couldn’t have arrived in time to save the Titanic’s passengers; the ice floe in which the Californian was wedged had already caused her crew to halt her engines for the night, and she wouldn’t have been able to navigate to the Titanic and retrieve survivors before everyone on board was either in a lifeboat or in the ocean. Her crew might, however, have relayed crucial information to other ships to bolster other vessels’ ability to respond efficiently had they turned on their wireless and attempted to make contact.