Mr Reginald Ivan Pacey, 17, was born in Southampton, Hampshire on 22 October 1894 the son of Thomas Pacey (1861-1932) and Kate Susanna (nee Roberts, 1863-1940). At the time of his birth his father was a Shipping Time Keeper.  He had seven siblings.¹

On the 1901 Census, 6-year-old Reginald was living at 27 Richmond Street, Southampton with his parents (Thomas was listed as a Quay Foreman Labourer) and elder sisters Gertrude Ruby (14, a Mother’s Help), Edith Lilian (13) and Alma Violet (11).  His brother Thomas Hillman had recently died, aged 8.

He attended a private boarding school at 27 Church Street, Romsey (probably Osborne House School), and it was here that he was listed at the time of the 1911 census.  Thomas was now a Stevedore, and Gertrude had left home, having married the previous year.  Edith and Alma were both Shorthand Typists and they had some more younger siblings: Lorna Alexandra (10), Leonard Archibald (8) and Edna Patricia (6).

When he signed-on to the Titanic, on 9 April 1912, he gave his address as the family home of Cambridge Villa, [179] Milbrook Road, (Southampton). The Titanic was his first ship.² As a lift steward he received wages of £3 15s.

In The Sinking of the Titanic : It's Story and Lessons, Second Class Passenger Lawrence Beesley described Pacey in the following pasage:

Whatever else may have been superfluous, lifts certainly were not: old ladies, for example, in cabins on F deck, would hardly have got to the top deck during the whole voyage had they not been able to ring for the lift-boy.  ...  I wonder where the lift-boy was that night. I would have been glad to find him in our boat, or on the Carpathia when we took count of the saved. He was quite young,—not more than sixteen, I think,—a bright-eyed, handsome boy, with a love for the sea and the games on deck and the view over the ocean—and he did not get any of them. One day, as he put me out of his lift and saw through the vestibule windows a game of deck quoits in progress, he said, in a wistful tone, "My! I wish I could go out there sometimes!" I wished he could, too, and made a jesting offer to take charge of his lift for an hour while he went out to watch the game; but he smilingly shook his head and dropped down in answer to an imperative ring from below. I think he was not on duty with his lift after the collision, but if he were, he would smile at his passengers all the time as he took them up to the boats waiting to leave the sinking ship.

Pacey died in the sinking. His body, if recovered, was never identified.