Introduction

Just a year ago this month the entire world was shocked by the appalling disaster that overtook the Titanic. The world’s largest, newest and fastest ocean steamship, on her maiden trip, struck an iceberg and plunged to the bottom of the ocean, carrying with her over 1600 souls.  Never in the history of marine disaster or in fact any disaster, have there been taken away at one stroke so many prominent persons in all walks of life.  Certainly the whole world will not forget the terrible tragedy nor the bravery and valor of those who were lost.  A few weeks ago the students of Brown [Brown University, Providence, Rhode Island] had the pleasure of having Captain Rostron of the rescue ship Carpathia give them a brief talk in Sayles Hall, after the chapel exercises. Mr. Chapin was on the Carpathia at the time of the rescue and the following account of his experience will prove interesting.— Ed.]

The Titanic Disaster 

We sailed from New York at noon on Thursday, April 11, 1912, on the R. M. S. Carpathia and Sunday evening found us steaming a little north of west in the warm waters of the Gulf Stream. It was warm too! The sun had been shining all day from a clear sky, and we had been forced to lay aside our steamer rugs and heavy coats, and late in the afternoon even to seek the shady parts of the deck in order to be comfortable. We retired at the usual time but, shortly after midnight, I was awakened from a sound sleep by hearing a man kneel down on the deck directly over my head. As I was in the upper berth, I could hear this plainly, being only a few inches beneath the deck. It happened that I had previously noticed that the painter of a life-boat was tied to a cleat just above the deck over my berth, so that when I heard the man stop there and kneel down, I felt sure he was unfastening the life-boat and that something must be wrong. 

I immediately jumped from my berth, awakened my wife, put on my overcoat and hurried up on deck to question the sailor whom I had heard. He told me that we had received a wireless message from the Titanic saying that she had struck an iceberg and was sinking, and that we were rushing to her assistance. It was pitch dark on deck although the stars were shining overhead. The sea was quite calm with practically no swell. The temperature, however, had fallen rapidly since early evening, and it was now very chilly on deck. I returned to the cabin to get my wife, and we both put on our warmest clothes and came up on deck. It was still colder now. When we first came up, no other passengers were on deck. The deck was covered with lifebelts, breeches buoys and blankets, and the sides of the Carpathia were lined with rope ladders. Two lifeboats were made ready for lowering and the crew took their places by the boats. All was dark so far as we could see but the cold kept increasing. We were now sailing a little west of north, for when the Titanic struck the berg the Carpathia was 58 miles away to the southeastward of her. We were in the warm Gulf Stream when we got the message, but soon passed out of it and entered the Labrador current in which the Titanic sank. Of course we hoped and fully expected to reach the Titanic before she sank, which indeed seemed most probable as no one believed that she could sink.

It was after three when we sighted a faint green light off our port bow which we took for the starboard light of the Titanic. It seemed a long time before the light became larger, and as we neared it, we could see it was too low to be on a big ship. We realized at last that it was a lifeboat. Then just as it seemed we would reach it, we turned aside—a huge blackish mass became visible scarcely a hundred feet away—a cold, towering iceberg.  Circling around this berg, we went close up to the little boat, and finally lay to a few hundred feet away from the lifeboat. It took only a few moments for it to reach our side, and as its occupants were rapidly and quietly taken on board, and were handed over to the doctors for examination, we learned the awful fact that the Titanic. had gone down over an hour before. Another lifeboat reached us before the first one had been unloaded, and still another before the day dawned.  

Then as the darkness became twilight, we could see all about us the dark masses of huge icebergs, which became lighter and lighter as the day increased, until finally when the sun’s rays struck them, they became pure white and glittered like crystal. From fifteen to twenty icebergs were within our sight all the morning, the nearest being about five hundred feet away. This berg was long, low and flat, and according to the description given by the Titanic’s surviving officers was without doubt the berg on which the ship struck. Here and there among the bergs we could make out the little lifeboats as they came slowly towards us. One or two had sails but most of them used simply oars. Before one of them could be entirely unloaded, another would reach our side, so that we lay still for seven or eight hours while this mournful and bedraggled procession came over our side. Some of the survivors climbed easily up the rope ladders, while others seated on sailor’s chairs climbed partly and were partly hoisted on board. Still others had to have ropes tied to them so that they could be hoisted up like bales of cotton. 

Nearly all had on heavy outer garments, although very few were entirely dressed. Many men had on evening clothes, as the accident occurred before they had started to retire. Practically everyone was quiet and subdued, apparently stunned by the shock and the cold. In fact, the actual enormity of the catastrophe was apparently not fully realized by any of the Titanic survivors or Carpathia passengers until we reached New York. Only four bodies were found in the boats, and these were taken on board, our flags then being lowered to half-mast—a very sorrowful sight away out there. There were no bodies floating, although we saw a steamer chair, a few pieces of wood, some miscellaneous wreckage and a mass of reddish scum which looked like a mixture of iron rust and oil, and which spread over the surface of the water for approximately a couple of hundred square feet.

About half-past eleven in the morning, the “Californian” came alongside and, signalled  us.:— As we had picked up all the lifeboats and taken on board all the survivors and whatever lifeboats were in good condition, we got under way and steamed southward, leaving the “Californian’ to cruise about the spot the rest of the day in the hope of finding other boats. 

Before we got under way a funeral service was held by the Rev. Father Anderson (a brother of the Order of the Holy Cross in communion with the Episcopal Church of America). As we were over the spot where the Titanic lay, the service was for all those who were lost in the wreck. It also embraced a Thanksgiving service for the survivors. 
 
As we steamed away we passed within a few hundred yards of an immense ice field, which was said to be 25 miles in width and over 60 miles in length. It was a beautiful sight, a smooth sheet of snowy whiteness, from whose midst here and there rose lofty cones of ice, whose clear-cut outlines showed up against a cold, blue sky. In front the deeper blue of the water contrasted even more strongly with the pure white of the ice. Truly it was a beautiful sight or would have been under other circumstances. Few gave even passing heed to it, for our minds were full of sadness at the terrible disaster which had occurred, and we were all anxious to do what we could to alleviate the sufferings of those whom we saved.