The Loss of the S.S. Titanic | Page 4

had been still further
improved in this respect by having a thousand tons more built in to
steady her. I went on board at Southampton at 10 A.M. Wednesday,
April 10, after staying the night in the town. It is pathetic to recall that
as I sat that morning in the breakfast room of an hotel, from the
windows of which could be seen the four huge funnels of the Titanic
towering over the roofs of the various shipping offices opposite, and
the procession of stokers and stewards wending their way to the ship,
there sat behind me three of the Titanic's passengers discussing the
coming voyage and estimating, among other things, the probabilities of
an accident at sea to the ship. As I rose from breakfast, I glanced at the
group and recognized them later on board, but they were not among the
number who answered to the roll-call on the Carpathia on the following
Monday morning.
Between the time of going on board and sailing, I inspected, in the
company of two friends who had come from Exeter to see me off, the
various decks, dining-saloons and libraries; and so extensive were they
that it is no exaggeration to say that it was quite easy to lose one's way
on such a ship. We wandered casually into the gymnasium on the
boatdeck, and were engaged in bicycle exercise when the instructor
came in with two photographers and insisted on our remaining there
while his friends--as we thought at the time--made a record for him of
his apparatus in use. It was only later that we discovered that they were
the photographers of one of the illustrated London papers. More
passengers came in, and the instructor ran here and there, looking the
very picture of robust, rosy-cheeked health and "fitness" in his white
flannels, placing one passenger on the electric "horse," another on the
"camel," while the laughing group of onlookers watched the
inexperienced riders vigorously shaken up and down as he controlled
the little motor which made the machines imitate so realistically horse
and camel exercise.
It is related that on the night of the disaster, right up to the time of the

Titanic's sinking, while the band grouped outside the gymnasium doors
played with such supreme courage in face of the water which rose foot
by foot before their eyes, the instructor was on duty inside, with
passengers on the bicycles and the rowing-machines, still assisting and
encouraging to the last. Along with the bandsmen it is fitting that his
name, which I do not think has yet been put on record--it is
McCawley--should have a place in the honourable list of those who did
their duty faithfully to the ship and the line they served.
CHAPTER II
FROM SOUTHAMPTON TO THE NIGHT OF THE COLLISION
Soon after noon the whistles blew for friends to go ashore, the
gangways were withdrawn, and the Titanic moved slowly down the
dock, to the accompaniment of last messages and shouted farewells of
those on the quay. There was no cheering or hooting of steamers'
whistles from the fleet of ships that lined the dock, as might seem
probable on the occasion of the largest vessel in the world putting to
sea on her maiden voyage; the whole scene was quiet and rather
ordinary, with little of the picturesque and interesting ceremonial which
imagination paints as usual in such circumstances. But if this was
lacking, two unexpected dramatic incidents supplied a thrill of
excitement and interest to the departure from dock. The first of these
occurred just before the last gangway was withdrawn:--a knot of
stokers ran along the quay, with their kit slung over their shoulders in
bundles, and made for the gangway with the evident intention of
joining the ship. But a petty officer guarding the shore end of the
gangway firmly refused to allow them on board; they argued,
gesticulated, apparently attempting to explain the reasons why they
were late, but he remained obdurate and waved them back with a
determined hand, the gangway was dragged back amid their protests,
putting a summary ending to their determined efforts to join the Titanic.
Those stokers must be thankful men to-day that some circumstance,
whether their own lack of punctuality or some unforeseen delay over
which they had no control, prevented their being in time to run up that
last gangway! They will have told--and will no doubt tell for years--the

story of how their lives were probably saved by being too late to join
the Titanic.
The second incident occurred soon afterwards, and while it has no
doubt been thoroughly described at the time by those on shore, perhaps
a view of the occurrence from the deck of the Titanic will not be
without interest. As the Titanic moved majestically down