The Loss of the S.S. Titanic | Page 9

the other would come down on our heads
as we sat in 13 trying to get away from the ship's side), and watch the
general motion of the ship through the waves resolve itself into two
motions--one to be observed by contrasting the docking-bridge, from
which the log-line trailed away behind in the foaming wake, with the
horizon, and observing the long, slow heave as we rode up and down. I
timed the average period occupied in one up-and-down vibration, but
do not now remember the figures. The second motion was a
side-to-side roll, and could be calculated by watching the port rail and
contrasting it with the horizon as before. It seems likely that this double
motion is due to the angle at which our direction to New York cuts the
general set of the Gulf Stream sweeping from the Gulf of Mexico
across to Europe; but the almost clock-like regularity of the two
vibratory movements was what attracted my attention: it was while
watching the side roll that I first became aware of the list to port.
Looking down astern from the boat-deck or from B deck to the steerage
quarters, I often noticed how the third-class passengers were enjoying
every minute of the time: a most uproarious skipping game of the
mixed-double type was the great favourite, while "in and out and
roundabout" went a Scotchman with his bagpipes playing something

that Gilbert says "faintly resembled an air." Standing aloof from all of
them, generally on the raised stern deck above the "playing field," was
a man of about twenty to twenty-four years of age, well-dressed,
always gloved and nicely groomed, and obviously quite out of place
among his fellow-passengers: he never looked happy all the time. I
watched him, and classified him at hazard as the man who had been a
failure in some way at home and had received the proverbial shilling
plus third-class fare to America: he did not look resolute enough or
happy enough to be working out his own problem. Another interesting
man was travelling steerage, but had placed his wife in the second
cabin: he would climb the stairs leading from the steerage to the second
deck and talk affectionately with his wife across the low gate which
separated them. I never saw him after the collision, but I think his wife
was on the Carpathia. Whether they ever saw each other on the Sunday
night is very doubtful: he would not at first be allowed on the
second-class deck, and if he were, the chances of seeing his wife in the
darkness and the crowd would be very small, indeed. Of all those
playing so happily on the steerage deck I did not recognize many
afterwards on the Carpathia.
Coming now to Sunday, the day on which the Titanic struck the iceberg,
it will be interesting, perhaps, to give the day's events in some detail, to
appreciate the general attitude of passengers to their surroundings just
before the collision. Service was held in the saloon by the purser in the
morning, and going on deck after lunch we found such a change in
temperature that not many cared to remain to face the bitter wind--an
artificial wind created mainly, if not entirely, by the ship's rapid motion
through the chilly atmosphere. I should judge there was no wind
blowing at the time, for I had noticed about the same force of wind
approaching Queenstown, to find that it died away as soon as we
stopped, only to rise again as we steamed away from the harbour.
Returning to the library, I stopped for a moment to read again the day's
run and observe our position on the chart; the Rev. Mr. Carter, a
clergyman of the Church of England, was similarly engaged, and we
renewed a conversation we had enjoyed for some days: it had
commenced with a discussion of the relative merits of his

university--Oxford--with mine--Cambridge--as world-wide educational
agencies, the opportunities at each for the formation of character apart
from mere education as such, and had led on to the lack of sufficiently
qualified men to take up the work of the Church of England (a matter
apparently on which he felt very deeply) and from that to his own work
in England as a priest. He told me some of his parish problems and
spoke of the impossibility of doing half his work in his Church without
the help his wife gave. I knew her only slightly at that time, but
meeting her later in the day, I realized something of what he meant in
attributing a large part of what success he had as a vicar to her. My
only excuse for mentioning these details about the Carters--now and
later in the day--is that, while they have perhaps not