A Night to Remember

The nautical regulations that determined the number of lifeboats required on an ocean liner like the Titanic were based not on the highest possible number of persons who could be accommodated on board but on the vessel’s weight. By this formula, the Titanic only needed to carry boats for 962 people. It was considered a testament to her safety features that she was perceived to be overprepared for any need to evacuate. Had the Titanic been at her total capacity of passengers and crew, there would have been lifeboat space for only 30% of the people on board. The Titanic carried the following rescue boats: 14 wooden lifeboats with capacity for 65 people each, two wooden cutters with capacity for 40 people each, and four Engelhardt, or “collapsible,” boats with capacity for 47 people each. The four collapsible boats weren’t used to their full potential because they weren’t prepared and launched in time. One of the frustrations most often expressed about the Titanic disaster is the failure on the part of officers to insist that the lifeboats be filled to their maximum capacity before being lowered into the sea. Crew and passengers alike were largely under the impression that the loading of passengers into lifeboats was temporary, a measure to transfer passengers to a rescue vessel, and then return to collect more passengers from the Titanic and repeat the process until everyone aboard had been rescued. Few, if any, expected that survivors would be clustered around the Titanic’s stern in fear of entering the freezing water. The disaster became a great equalizer in its reminder that the inevitability of death didn’t discriminate among human beings based on societal position or financial means.

The behaviors of first-class passengers were as diverse as their demographics were not. While some, like Margaret Brown and the Countess of Rothes, took on leadership roles and defied the feminine model of meekness and helplessness largely expected of women of the period, others, like Bruce Ismay and Sir Cosmo Duff Gordon, were disgraced because their conduct failed to live up to the standards and expectations expected of their gender and social position. The sinking of the Titanic was a test of character under the most serious kind of pressure that one might experience in their lifetime. Some displayed remarkable gentility amid the terror and horror. Others were vapid, trivial, selfish, and frivolous, complaining and bickering. While it may be inappropriate to judge how others react in extreme life-and-death situations, the callousness and indifference demonstrated by many of those fortunate enough to find themselves in the lifeboats were broadly criticized by their peers and the public alike. Bruce Ismay exiled himself in a remote estate in Ireland for the rest of his life, so thoroughly crucified by his peers and the press that he no longer felt confident participating in society. One man who survived the disaster was later divorced by his wife; she cited the fact that he lived as evidence of cowardice. Lord concluded, “There’s no evidence that Sir Cosmo was guilty of more than extreme bad taste,” but reports of his conduct and that of his wife were so disconcerting to others that they were the only two survivors called to testify in the inquests that followed the sinking. Historians in recent decades have suggested that Sir Cosmo’s motives may have indicated bribery to enforce his desire not to go back and rescue survivors.

Little outrage, even among the third-class passengers themselves, was expressed on behalf of those individuals sailing in steerage and the significant disadvantages that led to the disproportionately higher losses of life among those occupying this status on board. A global social climate that mirrored the microcosm of the structure on board the ship meant that these sentiments were mirrored and externalized on shore and that third-class passengers accepted their place in the events on the night of April 14, 1912.