Marlene Dotterer - Shipbuilder

Titanic , 4:00 a.m.

They continued to work steadily, loading people onto the boats, lowering the boats, starting again with the next batch of people. By four o’clock, Carpathia was nearby, taking people from the lifeboats. Once water had reached the long hallway they called Scotland Road, it had begun to fill the port side, which had more open space to hold the water. This had straightened the list to starboard, but was now creating a list to port. She would not be able to right herself this time. The bow was completely submerged. Water had been pouring over the tops of the watertight bulkheads for thirty minutes. She would fill quickly, now. Tom thought they still had about a hundred people to get off.

Those still aboard had to hang on and pull themselves up the incline of the deck. As the boat tilted further, Tom slipped, and along with about thirty others, fell in a heap to the deck. He slid toward the water, desperately grabbing for rails or ropes. The deck burned his hands and ripped his nails as he tried to stop his slide. When he entered water, still on the ship, he made a desperate lunge and found a rail, stretching his body lengthwise to try and catch the others. Some slid past, landing against submerged rails, a few continued further and he could no longer see them. Bruised and aching, Tom began pushing people back, urging all of them upright again.

Looking down, trying to see those who had fallen further, Tom spied a couple of empty boats heading for them. One boat stopped to pick up the people who had fallen and Tom turned to his group.

“Go down! Hang on and go into the water. There are empty boats from Carpathia .”

They obeyed, too frightened to argue. Tom helped them past, watching until the sailors had them in hand, pulling them into the boats. Then he turned, shivering violently, and made his way back up, looking for people to help.

He stopped when the electricity flickered. The next moment, the ship plunged into darkness. Screams pierced the night, as those still on board panicked in the dark. They were practically at water level, and the remaining mob began jumping for the lifeboats floating at the ship’s side. A few men kept their heads and began cutting the ropes to free the boats. Tom added his shouts to the chaos, trying to encourage the people to help each other into the boats.

As the last few people climbed in, Tom looked around. Was everyone off? He and Captain Smith, along with Lightoller, made one more round of all the areas they could reach, wanting to make sure. Titanic was submerged to amidships now and the rate of sinking had increased so much, Tom could no longer estimate it. Wet and shivering, sick with sorrow, Tom hurried up and down ladders in the eerie darkness. Carpathia was shining lights on them and in the sporadic flashes, he splashed through water nearly to his chest, checking nearby staterooms, lavatories and sitting areas, calling out and listening for human voices. Through it all, his hands were constantly on his ship, touching her, offering comfort. He heard only sloshing water and the deep groans of fatigued metal and wood. Titanic was dying. He was saying good-bye.

Satisfied there was no one left, they agreed to abandon ship. They began to enter the freezing water, one by one, to swim toward Carpathia , several yards away. Tom and Captain Smith shared a brief look. With a twitch of his eyebrows, Tom acknowledged Smith’s final claim as Master of the Ship, and with grief filling him, he left his ship to her fate.

He was already wet and cold, but the freezing water stabbed every part of his body, even under the lifebelt, as if a million needles had fallen on him. He swam as hard as he could, forcing his exhaustion and grief to wait. Only his promise to Casey, that he would do everything in his power to live, kept him moving toward Carpathia . It would have been so much easier just to die.

After he reached Carpathia , after they helped him up the ladder and hauled him onboard, after he gave them his name and place of residence, after they gave him a blanket, Tom refused to go below. Shaking furiously with cold and shock, he turned, leaned against the rail, and watched his ship. As if in a dream, he heard a steward suggest again that he go to the saloon for hot soup and dry clothes, but was vaguely aware that someone shushed the steward, explaining who he was. He ignored it all. He just watched her, wanting her to know that she would not die forsaken.

Her death throes soon claimed the attention of everyone on deck and those still at sea in lifeboats. She was at an ungodly angle, her stern high against the stars. They had begun to move away but they were still so close, Tom almost could reach out and touch her. She began to groan, an unfathomable sound from deep within her, soon joined by the creaking and shriek of wood and metal. They watched, Tom with the dread of foreknowledge, the others astonished, as she began to break apart, right in the middle.

He had heard about it from Sam and Casey. He had seen Sam’s drawings of it. But nothing could prepare him for the horror and majesty of the actual sight. Although it was underwater and dark, he knew when the bow broke away, not quickly, but gradually breaking free, as the stern slowly settled back into the water. Tom’s breath came in short gasps of silent weeping at the indecent sight of the open stern, filling again with water.

It took just a few moments. As he watched, with one hand unconsciously reaching for her, what was left of Titanic faced downward, and slipped beneath the sea.

April 15, 1912

As dawn lit the sky, the Virginian came over the horizon. Captain Rostron gave way for them to finish picking up the people in lifeboats. By eight, the Californian arrived, having spent some hours working her way around the ice field in which she had stopped the night before.

Baltic came in as they were loading the last of the passengers. Since the Baltic was heading to Liverpool, her captain offered to take Titanic’s crew on board. Most of them took advantage of this, especially since the White Star Line stopped paying them the moment their ship sank. The guarantee group was also welcome, and Tom sent them over with Bruce Ismay.

As Carpathia , Californian , and Virginian steamed away toward New York, Baltic remained, her only Titanic passengers consisting of the crew, the guarantee group, Captain Smith, and Bruce Ismay.

They had begun to pick up the bodies.

Baltic ’s doctor was adamant that they could not handle too many bodies. The ship was over-full with passengers and Titanic crew, and he didn’t have the space or equipment to properly store so many dead. Tom unable to forget the sight of people falling out of the boat, could not bear the idea of deserting them to the lonely Atlantic. Finally, Baltic ’s captain brought them news that the Mount Temple was on her way. Captain Moore had promised to pick up as many bodies as possible and transport them to New York. It was hoped most of the dead would have relatives there to claim them.

While they were discussing this, Ismay sent two telegrams, one to J.P. Morgan in New York, the other, at Tom’s request, to Lord Pirrie in London, letting him know what had happened, that the guarantee group was alive and well, and they were on Baltic , en route to Liverpool.

Once these details were finished, Tom, with slow and heavy steps, descended to the room they had found for him. It was little more than a broom closet, but it had a cot and was reasonably warm. He sat wearily on the cot, almost too exhausted to move further. After a few minutes, he undressed enough to justify getting into bed and slipped under the blanket. It was nearly two-thirty in the afternoon of April fifteenth. The plans and hope and dread of the last five years were finally coming to an end. In some alternate reality, he was dead twelve hours, the ship at rest in her grave on the ocean floor. It had happened sometime, somewhere, or Casey would not have been able to let him know.