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Dangerous Betrayal Page 4
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When Bruce Ismay came aboard, he demanded to be taken to private quarters. He required several visits from Carpathia’s doctor to administer medicine and sedatives. He was reported to be sitting on the edge of his bed looking straight ahead with lifeless eyes, or with his head buried in his hands. He did, however, manage to have several wireless messages sent ahead to White Star’s New York office requesting that he be given an immediate berth on the Cedric, being prepared for a crossing back to Great Britain. He didn’t want to face the anger of New York investigators. These were all signed “Yamsi,” fooling absolutely no one as to the originator.
The most incredible story of survival is of one of the cooks aboard Titanic. Before jumping or falling into the sea as the ship went down, he drank almost a fifth of whisky, an amount that one would expect to be enough to kill him by itself. He was in the water the entire time. He swam alongside collapsible lifeboat D until it was rescued. He reportedly suffered no long-term ill effects of more than four hours in twenty-eight-degree water. He found his way to Carpathia’s galley where he stripped off his wet clothing, wrapped himself in blankets, and stretched out in front of the open door of a large warming oven, recovering fully from the ordeal.
Officer Lightoller, after a cup of hot coffee and a change into dry clothes, went to the bridge to help Captain Rostron in any way that he could. They scanned the sea with binoculars and could see no more survivors. Based on his estimate of the lifeboat loading, Lightoller was confident that they had unloaded all of the lifeboats, and both he and Rostron were aware of the grim truth: there could be no more survivors in the water. Carpathia carefully threaded her way farther north where the debris field continued to rise from the sunken ship.
Rostron and Lightoller tallied the numbers and approximated that they had brought 700 people on board, corrected later to the exact count of 705. The full impact of the tragedy hit Lightoller. There had been more than 2,200 people aboard Titanic. He had been so busy helping others all night that he had not had the time to think about the loss of life, only to save those he could. Overcome with grief and fatigue, and chilled to the bone, he began to sob and shake uncontrollably. Rostron offered him his handkerchief; someone threw a blanket over his shoulders, and the crew in the bridge remained silent out of respect for this gallant man’s grief.
Carpathia moved through floating deck chairs, wooden furniture from one of the dining rooms, lifebelts, and the remains of a collapsible lifeboat. As they searched, the red, white, and blue barber pole from the men’s hair salon bobbed to the surface. A few pieces of clothing drifted alongside, but strangely there were no bodies in sight. A woman’s straw hat floated next to an oil-soaked baby blanket, silent testimony to the terrible tragedy.
The Californian, motionless, just a few miles distant, was preparing to get underway and her wireless operator, Peter Evans, was surprised that Viko was nowhere to be found. As soon as he heard over the wireless of the sinking that had occurred during the night, he went to Captain Lord with the news. Lord was horrified that he had not been notified of this and asked for Viko to be sent to him immediately.
Viko had vanished, and with him had gone the mysterious trunk that he kept nearby at all times. A search of the entire ship did not locate him. Lord began to suspect the worst: that perhaps Viko had fallen overboard during the night, and that no one was awake to help him.
Captain Stanley Lord, although completely innocent of the Californian’s failure to come to Titanic’s aid, spent the rest of his life linked to the loss of life that fateful night.
CHAPTER 8
The Beginning—White Star Line
In 1868, Thomas Ismay and William Imrie formed Ismay, Imrie & Co. to operate steam-powered ships across the Atlantic. They arranged for Harland and Wolff Shipyards of Belfast, Ireland, to manufacture their ships, resulting in a highly successful partnership for both firms. They settled on the name White Star Line with Ismay, Imrie & Co. as the parent organization.
Thomas Ismay had started as a young man with a dream, a willingness to work hard, and a love of the sea. He was justifiably proud that by 1899 he had created the most successful steamship company in Great Britain. Although a tough businessman who could compete head-to-head with the most ruthless of his day, in his personal life he was a kind and benevolent man who treated his workers fairly, donated willingly for the betterment of those of lesser means, and took his role as an influential resident of Liverpool seriously.
Unfortunately, Thomas’s qualities did not extend to his son, Joseph Bruce Ismay.
Thomas was determined that young Joseph would receive the finest of educations and exposure to the upper crust of British society in preparation for the day when he would head White Star Line.
Thomas had achieved great wealth but was looked down upon because he actually worked to obtain his money. He spoke with the wrong accent, enjoyed the wrong foods, and dressed as he pleased. These habits were passed down to Bruce, who, when sent to the finest boarding schools, found himself isolated by the stigma of his parentage. His schoolmates ridiculed the way he spoke, poked fun at his lack of the proper pedigrees, and questioned why his family did not vacation in the correct ski lodges of Switzerland, or the proper villas in the south of France. He was miserable at school and had great difficulty learning anything. His stern father would hear none of this—told him to be a man, to learn from his classmates and get on with it.
At some point, possibly while at boarding school, Joseph decided that his name would be J. Bruce Ismay, and he would no longer reply if addressed as Joseph. From that moment onward, the future J. Bruce Ismay began to form.
He had few if any friends. Bruce avoided social occasions at any cost, became increasingly isolated and self-centered, and was highly critical of everyone. In general, he proved very difficult to get along with.
Bruce used his unusual height as a weapon, delighting in staring down at those he deemed to be lesser people. He was rude to anyone he considered below him, such as his father’s valet and household staff. His father gave him a job at White Star Line largely because no one else would hire him, but with the strict admonition to his staff that Bruce should receive no special treatment. He was given a desk in a corner area of a large open office among other clerks who soon found their attempts to befriend him were not reciprocated.
Bruce was habitually late for work. He sat at his desk facing the wall, doing little or nothing, and rarely spoke to anyone except to complain about noise, tobacco smoke, a wastebasket that had not been emptied, or some other triviality. He particularly annoyed his father with his habit of arriving at work and walking through closed doors into Thomas’s private office, despite what might be going on in there, and hanging his coat and hat on his father’s private coat tree.
Most who knew Bruce considered him to be little more than a spoiled brat. In modern, less polite society, he would be known by cruder names.
Thomas enjoyed a good pint at the pub, and despite his wealth he enjoyed the company of his workers much more than the stuffy and self-absorbed society types his wife kept introducing him to. It bothered Thomas greatly that his son was more like those societal snobs than like himself.
It troubled Thomas that his lifelong dream of turning the reins of White Star Line over to his oldest son was never going to materialize. Bruce had learned nothing of the shipping business. His only connection to it was his birthright. Thomas knew that in the hands of someone like Bruce, White Star Line would falter and fail, and after spending a lifetime building the company, Thomas was not about to let it be destroyed.
Thomas decided to look elsewhere for a successor. The workers at White Star Line who had to put up with this overgrown brat were about to mutiny. Thomas’s head clerk had expressed exasperation to him several times, but despite stern warnings to Bruce to straighten out and learn something, nothing changed.
Thomas made arrangements to speak to his attorney and began the difficult task of changing his will. As originally written, it stipulated
that Bruce would obtain controlling interest at the time of Thomas’s death. He also drafted a termination letter, the hardest one he had ever written, clearly outlining the reasons for Bruce’s dismissal.
That night, Thomas went to bed early, complaining of continued indigestion that had been plaguing him for a few days. The next morning he didn’t come down for breakfast. His wife found him in bed staring up at the ceiling with lifeless eyes. He had passed away during the night of a massive heart attack.
At the age of thirty-seven, a totally unprepared, incapable, and inept J. Bruce Ismay became the head of White Star Line.
Within the short span of a year, White Star Line was in trouble. Bruce struggled each day to make the simplest of decisions. He could not overcome his years of isolation from others or bring himself to trust anyone, demanding to make even the smallest of decisions himself. The result was a stranglehold on the business. Docks were backed up with cargo and luggage piled to such depths that items either spoiled or were lost. Competition from other shipping lines, mostly German, began to bleed away White Star Line’s lucrative business. Money stopped coming in, and the financial position of White Star Line became precarious.
American industrialist J.P. Morgan stepped into this mess and quickly took over. He became the largest stockholder of White Star Line, allowing J. Bruce Ismay to retain his position as chief executive officer and managing director of the International Mercantile Marine. Morgan, quite aware of Ismay’s ineptitude as a manager, made certain that his position of CEO was in name only and installed capable people in critical positions to ensure that White Star Line would recover and thrive.
Morgan was a leading American industrialist and financial genius who controlled much of United States manufacturing, and did so with legendary ruthlessness. His most powerful weapons were his trusts, or perhaps better described as monopolies. He had immense wealth and would simply destroy all competition with predatory pricing or physical intimidation, ultimately controlling entire manufacturing sectors. A physically unattractive person, he was nevertheless respected (or at least feared) by his competitors.
Morgan decided that newer ships were needed to compete with the German upstarts. After ruminating for weeks, the ideas for three new luxurious ships began to take form and shape.
Over a three-week period in January and February of 1907, evening meetings were held at Ismay’s home in London. In attendance were the executives of Harland and Wolff, J.P. Morgan’s London bank manager, and Thomas Andrews, chief designer of Harland and Wolff Shipyards.
They discussed first-class suites of three and four rooms, located such that their wealthy occupants would have complete privacy, including private decks where they could enjoy the sea air without interference from second and third class passengers. These suites would have adjoining accommodations for servants who would naturally be traveling with their employers. Ismay wanted luxurious carpeting throughout all of the first-class dining and gathering areas. The ships would be the first to have indoor swimming pools and gymnasiums where passengers could work with professionals toning their bodies. There would be onboard hospital facilities to provide medical attention when needed and to assist the infirm who wished to travel abroad.
The main first-class dining room would rival the finest restaurants in Paris with its appointments and furniture. The best chefs would prepare delicacies from around the world to meet the demanding palates of distinguished guests. Refrigerated storage for all manner of perishable food from the finest caviars to the best cuts of aged beef was a necessity. The ships would be equipped with the latest electrical appliances, including a telephone system.
Ismay, in one of his rare benevolent moments, did not forget the third-class passengers, the steerage hordes who would represent the largest percentage aboard. They would have accommodations, although many notches below first and second class, that would be better than they had seen in their entire lives. They would receive good food and their own promenade deck, but with precautions taken in the construction to ensure they would never mingle with the upper-class passengers.
Andrews listened to Ismay ramble on. It was obvious that Ismay understood luxury but had little concept of what it took to build a ship. Andrews found this to be both amazing and amusing. After listening for about a week to the sometimes outlandish requests for luxury, size, and appointments, Andrews offered an observation.
“Mr. Ismay, with all due respect to your desires and obvious knowledge of the tastes of the royalty that will sail on these ships, do you realize that to include all that you are asking, these ships will have to be over nine hundred feet long, perhaps ten to twelve stories high above the water line, with the largest steam engines ever conceived? These will be the largest single standalone structures ever built! They will be complete floating villages.”
In complete seriousness, Ismay replied, “Mr. Andrews, I like to think that they will be complete floating cities.”
And with that sobering reply, Andrews was tasked with laying out the initial plans for a new class of ships dubbed the Olympic Class. Andrews’s considerable talents as an engineer and designer would be tested as never before. He was determined that this new class of ships would not only be the most luxurious ships afloat, but also the safest. He would put behind once and for all the fears of ocean travel.
Three ships were planned, RMS (Royal Mail Steamer) Titanic and her sister ships, RMS Olympic and HMHS (Her Majesty’s Hospital Ship) Britannic. Of the three, Titanic was to be the showcase luxury liner. She would be a floating palace that would race passengers across the Atlantic in record time and afford them such luxury and comfort that when they arrived at their destination they would not want to disembark.
CHAPTER 9
April 1907, White Star Line Conference Room
Eight months had passed since that culminating Friday evening at Ismay’s London home. For that entire time Andrews had been consumed with the task Ismay had placed before him. He transformed what was often a jumble of conflicting thoughts and wishes into a giant workable steamship. Unlike Ismay and the other executives who sketched, talked, dreamed, and demanded the biggest, fastest, most luxurious vessel ever contemplated, he had to be concerned with the reality of steel, rivets, steam power, and tens of thousands of construction details.
The blueprints he unrolled on the huge mahogany conference table excited him more than he had ever been in his highly successful career. All of his designers and drafters at Harland and Wolff had worked long days and weekends to complete the preliminary plans. Andrews knew he had carried out the directive (more like a command) from Ismay to the best of his ability, but even now, as he awaited the arrival of the executive committee, the plans before him staggered even his considerable imagination.
The only negative about such an assignment had been Ismay himself. Thomas Andrews understood that Ismay was the customer and certainly had the right and the responsibility to ensure he was getting his money’s worth (actually Morgan’s money’s worth). As the design progressed, Ismay’s constant interruptions of the work became unbearable. Ismay knew nothing of the design process, yet he continually asked inane questions, insisted on influencing basic design steps, questioned the materials being proposed, and made a general pain-in-the-ass of himself.
The executives arrived for the unveiling of the plans. Before them lay the blueprints for RMS Titanic, the most luxurious ship yet conceived. Andrews explained the plans, at first haltingly, and then with growing confidence.
The marvels of Titanic would go well beyond her size and appointments. The technology to be employed opened a new era in ship design. These would be the first ships to use electrical remote control of what had been previously mechanical functions.
The name Titanic was fitting. She was going to be enormous: 882 feet long, 92 feet wide, 60 feet from the water to the boat deck, with a displacement of 66,000 tons. She would be 11 stories high (175 feet) from keel to the top of the masts. This monster would be propelled through the sea by
two reciprocating engines and one turbine type engine that could produce a combined total of 59,000 horsepower. Her top speed was predicted to be 25 knots. When filled to capacity, she would be capable of carrying 3,547 passengers and crew.
Unbelievable as it sounded, Titanic was predicted to be unsinkable. Cleverly designed bulkheads placed throughout the length of the ship divided her into sixteen watertight compartments, any three of which could flood with seawater while protecting the rest of the ship.
Luxurious details that would rival a European mansion were to be included in abundance. Refrigeration would provide fresh meat, vegetables, and ice cream as well as fresh flowers for the first-class tables. Electrically powered lighting throughout the ship would illuminate every hallway and room. Fans would force fresh air through ducts, keeping the ship free of unpleasant odors and smoke. And one of the most intriguing additions would be telephones. First-class passengers could call ahead for dinner reservations, to plan a massage, even to order flowers! They could contact friends in other rooms to arrange a card game or meet for tea.
RMS Titanic and her sister ships would be man’s largest and most complex mechanical creations.
In anticipation of the total completion of the design process, orders were issued at Harland and Wolff that Yard 401 was to be prepared for the most ambitious shipbuilding project yet attempted.On March 31, 1909, construction began. The crew at Harland and Wolff raced headlong into the construction of three massive iron machines, one of which would become the sarcophagus of 1,517 souls on her maiden voyage, loudly proclaiming the end of man’s belief that he could accomplish anything without first considering the dangers involved.