THE TITANIC- 



YEARS LATER 



O. L. Martin Jr. 



Maritime Safety Division 



U. S. Naval Oceanographic Office 



THE TITANIC — 15 April 1912. 



The great bow knifed serenely through the calm, sunlit sea as 

 three mighty engines pushed the 46,000-ton titan through the water 

 at a speed well in excess of 23 knots. Double bottoms ran throughout 

 the full length of her 852-foot hull, which contained a massive colli- 

 sion bulkhead forward, followed by 16 watertight compartments 

 containing 11 decks. The passenger accommodations included 

 private promenades, exquisitely furnished suites, plush cabins, beau- 

 tiful lounges, a heated swimming pool, a gymnasium, and a hospital. 

 This was the ultimate in ship design: the safest, largest, swiftest, and 

 most comfortable vessel afloat. As she steamed majestically west- 

 ward across the North Atlantic on the evening of April 14, 1912, to 

 keep her lonely appointment with fate, everyone making this mem- 

 orable maiden voyage knew the TITANIC was unsinkable. 



The CARONIA radioed that ice lay ahead; as the day wore on 

 messages from the BALTIC, the MESABA, and the AMERIKA 

 revealed the probability of an ice field, 12 miles wide and 70 miles 

 long, lying across the course of the TITANIC. Day faded into night, 

 and a bite was noted in the air as the ship neared the Grand Banks. 

 The CALIFORNIA reported icebergs dead ahead. Yet the TITANIC 

 steamed on with ever increasing speed as the First Officer slowly 

 paced the bridge, 90 feet above water. Twice the lookout, in the 

 crow's nest, reported ice in the distance, but with speed unabated 

 the unsinkable ship steamed on. Meanwhile, the TITANIC's 



radio operator, when working Cape Race at 2300, heard the CALI- 

 FORNIA break in loud and clear and say, "We are stuck in the ice." 

 He answered, "Keep out, you are jamming my signals." Tired 

 after a long day and irritated at the TITANIC's rebuff, the radio 

 operator aboard the CALIFORNIA secured his set and turned in. 



The goliath of the sea steamed on, unwittingly drawing ever 

 closer to her icy rendezvous with death. The lookout sighted another 

 iceberg ahead and notified the bridge. Instantly, the First Officer 

 reversed the port engine and put the rudder hard over in an attempt 

 to make as tight a turn to port as possible. Seconds ticked by, the 

 mighty bow swung safely past the ice but the advance of the vessel 

 carried her bodily forward against a knife-like protrusion, slashing a 

 300-foot gash in the hull well below the waterline along the starboard 

 side. However, the impact of the collision was so slight and the con- 

 cussion so muffled that only several of the stokers and engineers 

 realized the stark truth. She was doomed. 



Upon reaching the bridge, the Captain received a full report 

 of the known facts, and immediately dispatched an officer below to 

 survey the damage. This officer upon finding ice on the foredeck 

 inspected the forepeak but found it dry. Working his way aft along 

 the starboard side he found the boiler room flooded and being aban- 

 doned, firemen scarcely having time to pull their fires. Water rushing 

 into No. 3 hold was already 20 feet above the keel. Returning to the 



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