Voices from the Titanic by Geoff Tibballs Page B

against this man, who they said was a professional gambler, who made a practice of fleecing ocean travellers. The men were sure that he had cheated – so sure, in fact, that they had agreed to keep him at a safe distance in the future. He sat in that great dining room, with a cold-blooded smile playing over his features as he gazed over the crowd. It struck me as the one discordant and harsh note in the jollity.
    It was suggested that we take a bit of fresh air after dinner and before retiring many of the passengers ventured out on the deck. I stepped out into the open to get one breath of fresh air, as I told Jacques, and to look upon the night before I retired. There was a death chill in the air which sent a shudder through me and caused me to hurry back into the cheer and warmth of thecabin. The terrible chillness affected all alike and a number of the men commented that we must be in the vicinity of icebergs. No one had the slightest fear, however; for Mr Andrews, who had some part in the construction of the vessel (he called it his baby), had laughingly assured us that at last man had constructed an unsinkable craft.
    Before retiring, my husband complained of a slight headache. We had both gone to our state room. Nearly everyone on board had retired except the men who chatted over their cigars in the magnificent lounging room. There was the stillness which only comes with the sea. A faint tremor of the boat was the only thing which served to remind one that he was on the sea. Apart from this, one might well have imagined himself to be in one of the magnificent hotels of New York City.
    ( Boston Sunday Post , 21 April 1912)
    First-class passenger Major Arthur Peuchen , of Toronto, Canada, described how he left $200,000 worth of stocks behind in his cabin when making a hasty evacuation.
    It was Sunday evening, a starry night and calm. There was an exceptional bill of fare on the evening dinner. We were all in evening dress and the ladies wore many a jewel. Music went on as usual. I dined with Mrs Markland Molson, Mr and Mrs Allison and their little girl. Everything was exceptionally bright. Then I went to the smoking room and met Mr Beattie, a partner of Hugo Ross, of Winnipeg, formerly of Toronto. I also met Mr McCarthy of the Union Bank of Vancouver, and a financial man from Toronto. Talk was unusually bright. That was about 11 o’clock. Then I said, ‘Good night, I am going to turn in.’
    I had just reached my berth, when I heard a dull thud. It was like a collision and I didn’t think it serious. That’s extraordinary, I thought, and went up to see. I ran upstairs and on the way met a friend who laughingly said that we had struck an iceberg and we went up on deck. There we found that we had struck aft ofthe bow about 75 feet from the point and had scraped along the starboard side. We saw ice falling on us. The berg was about 70 feet high. As the berg passed the portholes it alarmed the women in the berths.
    The passengers came on deck one by one, some in pyjamas, some in evening gowns. They were not yet much alarmed. I went inside and spoke with my friend Molson. Mr Hugo Ross was sick in bed. Then I got in touch with Charles M. Hays and Thornton Davidson, a son-in-law of Mr Hays. Then four of us, Mr Hays, Mr Molson and Mr Davidson, went up to see the ice.
    I then for the first time saw she was listing. This was about fifteen minutes after the strike. Then I noticed that all the people were putting on lifebelts, and for the first time it looked serious. I went inside, threw off my dress suit, put on my warmest clothes and my steward, a very nice fellow, helped me to put on my life preserver. I never saw him again.
    I took three oranges and a pearl pin. There was $200,000 of stocks and bonds, all my jewellery and presents for my daughter Jessie and family in the berth, but I did not touch them.
    It was rather sad to turn and leave the cheery room I had occupied – cosy, large and comfortable as