George Kemish's Letter to Walter Lord

The Titanic was a brand new ship, and a grand ship too in those days. She was a sister ship to the S.S. Olympic except she was a ship within a ship – a distance of about three feet between the two shells and believed to be unsinkable. In those days the White Star Line ran a weekly service to New York from Southampton – two ships always at sea – one homeward – and one outward bound, and one in So'ton – one in New York. Being such a fine new ship, all the best ("cream") of Southampton seamen and Engine Room Department men were anxious to join her. Yes, the thick of So'ton went in her.

We sailed from there on the 9th April 1912 for N.Y. She had six boiler rooms (stokeholds). Each boiler room had its own pump room for bilge pumping and boiler feed etc., and five boilers abreast in each boiler room, 53 Firemen, 22 coal trimmers and five leading firemen on each watch. I was on the 8-12 watch. Being a new ship on her maiden voyage (everything clean), she was a good job in the stokeholds (not what we were accustomed to in other old ships – slogging our guts out and nearly roasted with the heat). Even so, the Titanic would have burned over three thousand tons of coal on each trip. Well, being what I have called a good job, we just had to keep the furnaces full and not keep on working the fires with slice bars pricker-bars and rakes.

We were sitting around on buckets, trimmers' iron wheel barrows, etc. I had just sent a trimmer up to call the 12-4 watch – it was 11:25 P.M., 14th April, when there was a heavy thud and grinding rearing sound. The telegraph in each section signalled down "Stop." We had a full head of steam and were doing about 23 knots per hour. We could have given much more steam pressure had it been required. We had orders to "box up" all boilers and put on dampers to stop steam rising and lifting safety valves (steam).

Well the trimmer came back from calling the 12-4 watch and he said "Blimme we've struck an ice-berg." We thought that [was] a joke because we firmly believed that she had gone aground off the banks of Newfoundland. Well then, some of them went up on Deck and came down again and told us, "Yes, the trimmer is right, she has struck a berg."

Now counting boiler sections – No. 1 started from forward, No. 2 next, and so on until you came to Number 6, and then came the Engine Room. From No. 1 there was a long tunnel which took us to a winding (spiral) stairway that led up to our quarters, rooms, etc. After climbing about 60 steps, we came to the 12-4 room, another 30 steps up, the 4-8 room, another flight up, the 8-12 – Leading Fireman & Greasers. You then came out on the Forward Well Deck and Rec. Room for crew. Engineers came up and ordered all firemen down below to draw all fires, because excessive steam pressure was blowing joints, etc. All bulkhead watertight doors were closed, so we had to go along what they called the "working alleyway" and down over the tops of the boilers and escape ladders. We certainly had a Hell of a time putting those fires out.

When we went to our quarters again, the 12-4 men were packing their bags and dragging their beds up on to the Recreation Deck because their rooms were flooded. Oh, we thought this a huge joke and had a good laugh. We went down below again to see everything was alright. Engineers were very busy with valves, etc. I saw one engineer slip and break his leg (for obvious reasons I won't give you his name). We placed him in a pump-room and did everything we could to help the other engineers.

Ships carpenters were constantly taking soundings. They may have known (but no one else except Skipper Smith) that things were going to happen. About 12:45 A.M., 15th April, we got news, "Captain has ordered all hands [to] boat stations." The ship was as steady as if she had been in dry-dock, going down very steadily forward, but even at that time, it was hardly noticeable.

The Boat Deck was thronged with people. Many women and children had to be forcibly put in the boats. They felt much more safe on the decks of the big liner than in the small boats about 90 ft. above the water line. Therefore the boats that got away first did not take half the number of people they could have done, and then later when we realised things were really serious, the boats getting away later were very much overloaded. The band had stopped playing by now, about the last person I took particular notice of was W.T. Stead (novelist) calmly reading in the First Class Smoke Room. It looked as if he intended stopping where he was whatever happened.

One boat – I think it was either No. 9 or No. 11 – was being lowered but 5 or 6 ft. from the water line. It was on a very uneven keel, one end of the boat falls had caught up somehow. I imagined they were trying to cut the entangled falls, which I found out they eventually did do, because they could not unhook the tackle. They were shouting and screaming that there were no members of the crew aboard. But they managed to free it.

I saw how desperate the situation was by now. All boats were away. We had been throwing deck-chairs and anything movable overboard. I took a flying leap intending to grab the dangling boat falls and slither down them to the water – but I missed them (I reckon a parachute would have been handy in that drop). I swam until I got aboard that No. 9 or No. 11 boat. I don't know to this day what boat it was. A deck hand named Paddy McGough took charge of her. She was overloaded dangerously. Picking up one or two more persons from the water would probably have meant drowning about 80 (that was the number in her).

It was extremely cold now and terrible for the women and kids. What few boats that were in view then tried to keep together. We were rowing aimlessly, our hands froze on the oars, and we lost sight of the others. It had been fairly light (moon) until now, but mercifully clouds covered the moon and it became very dark. When the Titanic took her final plunge, there was a noise I shall never forget – shouting, screaming and explosions. A hundred thousand fans at a Cup Final could not make more noise.

Well, we drifted about until it started getting daylight. We could just see the berg – it had drifted on to the skyline with the help of the bump we gave it. There was a low ice field practically all around us. Paddy McCough suddenly gave a great shout, "Let us all Pray to God, for there is a ship on the horizon and 'tis making for us."  Some of our crowd had already passed out, but those who were still able did pray and cry.

The old S.S. Carpathia picked us up about 7 A.M. on the 15th April. She took us to New York (took about 4 days I think). Quite a few survivors died on the Carpathia. The first night aboard there, quite a few died from exposure and frost-bite. An officer asked me to go to the mortuary – four had died. He had an idea one of them was a member of the Titanic crew and, "perhaps I could identify him." I jibbed [that] it may have been one of my mates. I had had enough.

Reporters (newspaper, etc.) were waiting right outside Nantucket Light-Ship. There were hundreds of river boats. Nobody was allowed on board. We were even under guard when we got up to New York. West Street (11th Avenue) and 10th Avenue was packed with people, but we didn't get the chance to make a few dollars. Us members of the Titanic crew were escorted to Wright's Seaman's Mission in West St., were measured up, [and] got two suits of clothes – 2 pairs of boots, 2 shirts, 2 suits of underwear, ties, socks, etc. Gee, I looked a typical Yank when I got home.

We came home in the Red Star Line ship Lapland [and] were landed at Plymouth. All kinds of officials took our depositions for the Board of Trade Inquiry in London. We were to remain in Southampton while the Inquiry was on, to receive five shillings a day, [and], if called to London, another 3/6 per day.

I was home for three months and then went to sea again. All we got out of it was what would have been the normal trip's pay – 23 days. Our money then was only 65 per month. Our Seaman's Union gave us £3 for loss of kit [and] a "promise" from the White Star Line of a job for life. I have never had anything from them.

Curator's note: This transcription is an excerpt from the full letter that is preserved in the archive of the collections of the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich. This transcription has been lightly edited for readability. Line breaks, punctuation, grammar, and capitalization have been adjusted to conform to modern conventions. These changes have been made solely to enhance clarity, and the original intent, tone, and content of the letter have been carefully preserved.