Bertha Watt's Letter to Walter Lord

We had a happy four days, met so many nice people and everything went along fine. Sunday evening I was allowed to stay up later, we had attended a sort of hymn service put on by the Rev. Ernest C. Carter after which we had an evening snack.

Following the supper I was off to bed. Mother had taken a little longer to come down and then was reading when the ship hit. I was asleep, so mother partly dressed and went on deck to see what happened. One officer she spoke to replied, "Go back to bed we will soon be under way." But she wasn't satisfied with that, so when she saw other people coming on deck, they sort of stood around to see what was happening. After some little time Mr. Collier [sic] came along and advised her to go and get me up as he had seen the 1st Class Lifeboats going off.

So they both came down the stairs [as there was] no elevator operating that night. The steward was just at my door to awaken me when mother arrived. I pulled on stockings and tucked my nightie into my panties and put my coat on (it was fur lined thank goodness). By the time we got on deck, the Colliers [sic] were there and a few other folk, but no big crowd. We stood talking in a group: the Collyers [and] Marion Wright, who was coming out to be married in "The Little Church around the Corner" in N.Y. (my uncle gave her away). She now lives in Oregon and we have been life-long friends. Then there were two young men who also sat on our table, if I remember, the one was John Ashby and the other Dr. Pain.

While standing there, Mr. Hoffman came up with his two little boys and finished dressing them on deck (Hoffman was an assumed name, their real surname was Navratil). Many stories were published about them because he had stolen them from their divorced mother in France and was heading for the U.S. and I guess a new wife. He had been a tailor and the little boys were models of fashion although both were very young, maybe 4 and 6.

Shortly a call was made, "Women & children this way." So we all went over to the starboard side. One boat was on the way down and one was hanging on its davits overboard and full of men – looked as if they were steerage passengers – and we heard that they had more or less charged this boat so they left them hang[ing] there until after our boat left. The master-at-arms was standing with a gun at that point.

One boat went down ahead of us. Then we loaded in to the next, no order. Some people in first seemed to be sitting with feet up on seats while some of us stood all night. When we women folk got in, we all said to the men, "Come on, there's plenty room," but the officer in charge of loading said, "Women and children first." We waited a few minutes and none came so we were let down. All thought we would stop at another deck and pick up some more women, but no, we didn't, and I'll never forget the sight of these 3 or 4 men standing looking over the side. One other boat was loading as we left and the one that was hanging, that was the last.

Our boat was in charge of a fine old Irish seaman who did his best to keep folk in line and he told us we were almost the last boat off. Shortly after leaving, we heard shots [and] were told these were fired to make the men come out of that boat. By the time we got out just a little way, the Titanic was really going down by the nose, so Paddy, as we called him, said, "Row for all your worth," or we would be drawn down by the suction. Two stewards were rowing but didn't look too experienced, Paddy asked others to help. 

We heard cries for help, but couldn't see too well where they were. We possibly were out 3/4 hour when the ship seemed to break in the middle, and went in nose and stern and, in what seemed minutes, not a vestige of her could be seen. Then all was calm and dark. Up until then, the lights of the ship are some help, but as she sank lower and lower, row after row of lights would go out.

We were near the stern of our boat and Paddy talked to me a great deal, told me about the stars, etc., but said they had no compass and no rudder in this boat, so all we could do was row a little and hope we would see something coming. We had been told before we left the ship that this was all precautionary measures and the Olympic would be along shortly to pick us all up.

So after quite a while, I saw a light away in the distance and called to Paddy. He answered that it wasn't a ship but one of our own boats who must be lucky to have a light. I wanted to know how he could tell and he said from the light above the water. How this has always been a point of anger for me over the years, it's hard to explain. In one enquiry, Ismay stated he was in the only boat with a light. That boat was picked up by the Carpathia a good 2-3 hrs ahead of us. Mr. Ismay was all tucked away in bed in a cabin long before half of us were landed on the Carpathia. Now they try to tell people how brave he was and how he helped women into boats and only went into the last boat under pressure. Well, we never saw him and we knew some of the people in the last boat off and he wasn't there either. So no one will ever white wash him to me.

Our boat had either 46 or 47 in it. All boats had printed on them "75 min 100 max." We had 1 box of dry biscuits, no water, light, or compass. [We] never had a boat drill or assigned a special boat to go to.

We left the ship about 1 a.m., or close there, and arrived aboard the Carpathia about 9.30 a.m.. How good that ship looked to all of us. I climbed up the rope ladder without any belt affair around me. [I] had always been good at athletics in school and I think that morning I could even have climbed a single rope. But the Capt. was very angry. We were all given hot Toddy and a blanket and some slept wherever they found a spot.

At our table on Titanic was a very fine couple, Mr. and Mrs. Leopold Weisz. He was a sculptor and had been established in Montreal but went home to Belgium to bring his wife out. He was one who never came home. That first day on the Carpathia, [Mrs. Weisz] was in a bad way and was bound to jump, my good mother must have walked miles with her up and down the decks.

Well, Mom finally got her calmed down and got her interested in helping a whole big table full of mothers and children who could not speak English. Madame Weisz could speak 7 languages, so sat at this table every meal and ordered for the folk. A great tribute should be paid her for the patience and help when her own heart was breaking. The last we saw of her she was being taken away by some Catholic sisters. He had done a beautiful drawing in my autograph album, but alas, that went down with all other things.

Those few days before we landed in N.Y. were a life all their own. Tragedy affects people in so many different ways. We slept down on straw bags in the crew quarters. These men had given up their cabins for us, but some wouldn't have anything to do with the place. Mother said as long as the engines kept booming away she could sleep anywhere. People slept on tables and under them and every corner was filled up on the small ship. How lucky we were to be alive and even fed. But many were very fussy and annoying and stealing was really bad. [It] seemed [that] everyone lost things – both the regular passengers [booked on the Carpathia] and any who brought anything with them.

Mother made dresses to Margery Collyer and me out of a blue blanket and #50 thread, sewing them by hand. [They] kept us warm but we sure looked funny, now as I look back.

The things I saw are as plain in my mind as if they were printed on my brain. Guess I was very lucky having the kind of mother I had, for she was a tower of strength to lots who were sort of falling apart and a most practical psychologist in her own way. I know now that I learned a great deal of the fundamentals have built a happy life on, such as faith, hope and charity, just in one short week of my life, listening to people talk and hearing answers my mother gave to me and others and later thinking how some behaved.

Mother took me to Boston, or rather, Fall River, by boat just two weeks after. She probably didn't think much of it at the time, but what a good thing it was.

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.