Shipwrecks -- North Atlantic Ocean -- History -- 20th century; Titanic (Steamship)
Our lifeboat, with thirty-six in it, began lowering to the sea.
This was done amid the greatest confusion. Rough seamen all
giving different orders. No officer aboard. As only one side of
the ropes worked, the lifeboat at one time was in such a
position that it seemed we must capsize in mid-air. At last the
ropes worked together, and we drew nearer and nearer the black,
oily water. The first touch of our lifeboat on that black sea
came to me as a last good-bye to life, and so we put off--a tiny
boat on a great sea--rowed away from what had been a safe home
for five days. The first wish on the part of all was to stay
near the _Titanic_. We all felt so much safer near the ship.
Surely such a vessel could not sink. I thought the danger must
be exaggerated, and we could all be taken aboard again. But
surely the outline of that great, good ship was growing less.
The bow of the boat was getting black. Light after light was
disappearing, and now those rough seamen put to their oars and
we were told to hunt under seats, any place, anywhere, for a
lantern, a light of any kind. Every place was empty. There was
no water--no stimulant of any kind. Not a biscuit--nothing to
keep us alive had we drifted long. Had no good _Carpathia_, with
its splendid Captain Rostron, its orderly crew, come to our
rescue we must have all perished. Our men knew nothing about the
position of the stars, hardly how to pull together. Two oars
were soon overboard. The men’s hands were too cold to hold on.
We stopped while they beat their hands and arms, then started on
again. A sea, calm as a pond, kept our boat steady, and now that
mammoth ship is fast, fast disappearing. Only one tiny light is
left--a powerless little spark, a lantern fastened to the mast.
Fascinated, I watched that black outline until the end. Then
across the water swept that awful wail, the cry of those
drowning people. In my ears I heard: “She’s gone, lads; row like
hell or we’ll get the devil of a swell.” And the horror, the
helpless horror, the worst of all--need it have been?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account