Call Me Ismay (8 page)

“Yes, and I read it.”

“Because it was likely to be of some importance, was it not?” Sir Rufus's tone became a tad incredulous.

An ingratiating smile flashed on Ismay's face- an unfortunate nervous habit that surfaced under moments of duress. “I have crossed with Captain Smith before, and he has handed me messages which have been of no importance at all.” Once more, Ismay was confused by the apparent sound of a contemptuous laugh or two coming from the crowd in the Hall.

“Surely he had other reports which he hadn't said anything about?”

“Not a word.”

“Therefore, he singled out this one, apparently, to give to you?”

“Yes.” Ismay tucked away his handkerchief.

“And, as I understand, you took it from him and read it?”

“Yes.”

“And you kept it for the time being?”

“Yes, I realized later that I had put it in my pocket.”

“Where was the message handed to you by Captain Smith?”

“On deck.”

“Were you alone?”

“N-no, I was not.” Ismay's eyes darted about nervously. “At least... at least I
believe
there were others present, either before or after he handed it to me...”

“Were there other passengers present?”

Ismay seemed uncertain and evasive. “I'm... yes, yes, there were, I believe so... well... yes. My memory seems to have blurred. But certainly, I believe so, yes.”

“Did you read the message to them?”

Ismay was suddenly oddly firm in his response. “I did not. No, not really, no.”

“But having read it, you put it in your pocket?”

“Yes, I must have.”

“Did you understand from that telegram that the ice which was reported was within your track?”

“I did not.”

Sir Rufus was learning that some of his questions for Ismay had to be very specific. “Well, it at least conveyed to you at any rate that you were approaching
within
the region of ice, did it not?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“At least we know this, Mr. Ismay- that certainly there was no
slowing down
of the vessel after that ice report was received?”

More than one reporter glanced up from their notes and several counselors shifted in their chairs, aware that Sir Rufus had just interjected the possibility the
Titanic
had been headed at a reckless rate of speed into a region filled with dangerous ice.

“Not that I know of.”

Lord Mersey suddenly interjected. “I thought you said just now that you knew that this was the point at which you were approaching the region of ice?”

“I knew we were approaching the region of ice, yes.”

Sir Rufus quickly reclaimed his role as interrogator. “How did you know that, Mr. Ismay?”



“By reading this Marconi message.”

“Then you knew, did you not, that you would be in the region of ice some time on that Sunday night?”

“I believe so, yes.”

“You knew, I suppose, that you would have to alter your course, then?”

“Yes. Yes, I knew that.”

“And you would alter your course, I think, more to the northward?”

“Yes.”

Sir Rufus was now hastily taking down notes as the questioning continued. “And therefore you certainly knew that would bring you nearer to the region of ice which had been reported to you?”

“I... I could not say exactly where the ice was. I do not understand latitude and longitude.”

To Ismay's great dismay, he was greeted with a minor explosion of gasps and laughter from the spectators in the Hall. The head of the White Star Line, operator of some of the most famous steam ships in the world, was now claiming to have no knowledge of even the most basic and simple of navigational details?

Sir Rufus was incredulous. “Do you mean that? You are giving evidence here in the Court. Would you reconsider that statement, that you do not know the meaning of latitude and longitude?”

“I- I said the Marconi message did not convey any meaning to me as to the exact position of that ice,” Ismay stammered. “That- that is for the captain of the ship. I had- I had
nothing
to do with the navigation.” Ismay berated himself internally, knowing that he'd just come across as far more defensive than he had intended.

“Yet
you
were the managing director, and he thought it of sufficient importance to give you the first Marconigram he had shown to you on this voyage, and then you put it in your pocket?”

Ismay paused before replying, “Yes.”

“And you, of course, appreciated that the report meant that you would be approaching ice that night?”

“I expected so, yes.”

Sir Rufus's voice began to rise in volume. “And, therefore, that it behooved those responsible for the navigation of the ship to be very careful?”

“Of course...”

“And that it would be prudent to perhaps double the lookouts?”

Ismay's shoulders sank. “I cannot question the actions of the crew,” he offered, nervously.

The Attorney General became exasperated. “And, more particularly, if you were approaching ice in the night it would be desirable,
would it not,
to slow down?”

“I am not a navigator.”

Lord Mersey, clearly growing irritated with Ismay, startled his colleagues a bit with an impatient interjection. “Answer the question!”

Ismay's response was meek but nonetheless clear. “I say no. I am not a navigator.”

Sir Rufus, quietly furious, berated him. “You are not being quite frank with us, Mr. Ismay.”

Sir Robert Finlay, who had been silent since his opening statements, promptly protested. “The Attorney General will forgive me- but I do not think there is the slightest justification for that remark!” Momentarily,  calls of agreement and disapproval from those in attendance threatened to overtake the proceedings.

Sir Rufus paused, waiting for the din to quiet down, never taking his eyes off Ismay. “What is your answer?”

Ismay drew in a breath before replying. “I should say if a man can see far enough to clear ice, he is- he is
perfectly
justified in going full speed.”

“Then apparently you did not expect your captain to slow down when he had ice reports?”

“No, certainly not.”

Sir Rufus leaned over toward Lord Mersey for a private consultation while Sir Robert looked daggers at his colleagues. The Attorney General then resumed. “Mr. Ismay, according to your view, what do you say as to the weather conditions that night?”

“So far as I could judge, it was a perfectly fine, clear night,” was Ismay's measured response.

“So, on a perfectly fine, clear night,” Sir Rufus replied, seeming to take on Ismay's phrase with a touch of mustard, “with the expectation that you are coming within the region of ice, your view is that the captain would be justified in increasing his speed?”

“I do not see any reason why he should not, so long as he could see sufficiently far to clear the ice.” Ismay fought an urge to cough, his throat becoming sore. He felt a cold trickle of perspiration run down his neck. An intensely private man, he had struggled to cooperate as much as possible in such very public interrogations in both Britain and the U.S., but he was depleting the last of his emotional reserves and finally allowed himself to uncharacteristically attempt to show some impatience in the face of authority.

“Begging the Attorney General's forgiveness, and this is not an attempt in any way to become impertinent given the deadly seriousness of the occasion, but I should like to know-” he halted for an instant, his teeth chattering with nervousness- “when can we please move on to the whole
Carpathia
incident?”

A tone of discord rocked the Drill Hall, as inquiry spectators jeered and whistled in disapproval and the horde of reporters leaned forward in their chairs in lurid fascination. However, the Attorney General seemed intent on adopting a different tactic by ignoring the question completely. “Mr. Ismay, you occupied a cabin on B deck?”

Ismay was completely taken aback and disappointed by the deflection of his question, but answered anyway. “Yes.”

“Did you occupy a suite there?”

“I did...” He gradually realized that the subject of the
Carpathia
was not going to be addressed any time soon.

“That is on the port side of the vessel?”

“The starboard side, I think.”

“No, it is the port side- at least, I think so, if it is the one I mean. Do you remember the number?”

Ismay frowned. “I think it was 52 or 56, or something like that.”

“Will you just look at the plan and you will see?” A Board of Trade assessor handed a copy of the plan to Ismay.  “I will remind you of what you said in America. At one time you were not quite sure of the number. You thought it was 52?”

“I think some other gentleman said he had that room.”

“That is right- some other gentleman said he had it?”

“Yes, but I still think I had 52...” Ismay's voice trailed off a bit, sounding both mournful over the proceedings and increasingly frustrated with his memory. “The passenger plan would show which room I had.”

Sir Rufus turned towards Lord Mersey, attempting to ensure that Ismay's location on the ship was not in question. “If your Lordship will look at B deck, it is on the port side, and on the port side you will see B-52, B-54, and then a bathroom, and then B-56. So it is either 52 or 56 that you occupied?”

Ismay, not taking his eyes off the ship's plan, still seemed embarrassed and confused. “Or- or perhaps the corresponding rooms on the other side,” he stammered.

Lord Mersey's eyes shot up toward Ismay in disbelief, realizing just how muddled some of his testimony had become. “You do not mean on the
other
side of the ship?”

Ismay could not bring himself to address the Board directly during his response, still staring at the plan. “Yes, I am not certain which side it was- the corresponding rooms.”

Sir Rufus sighed slightly, and quickly decided that trying to pinpoint the location of Ismay's room on the ship was going to take up valuable time. “Very well. At the time of the impact you were in bed and asleep?”

“I was.”

“You were awakened by the impact?”

“Yes.”

“Did you realize what had happened?”

Ismay did not physically shake while at the stand,
but he could still feel the vibration of the impact deep in his bones
.
“I did not.”

“Did you then get up?”

“I stayed in bed a little time, and then I got up. I really thought what had happened was we lost a blade off one of the propellers.”

“You got up, and where did you go?”

“I went along the passageway out of my room, and I met a steward.”