Closing Scenes on the Lost Liner

Samuel James Rule

Steward

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Mr. Samuel Rule, a cabin steward on the Titanic, was one of the first to take advantage of the liberty secured for the rescued crew by the officials of the Seafarers' Union. He had been conducted, under the escort of two policemen, to the gate to see his brother, a ship's captain, but was not allowed outside to speak to him. The two men had to exchange greetings through the bars, as if one or other of them were a condemned prisoner. Mr. Rule's brother hurried away after a brief but touching exchange of words, and Mr. Rule himself was taken back from the gate into the dock enclosure by the police. A few minutes afterwards, when Mr. Rule learned that he was at liberty to go outside, he turned away after his brother, but the latter had gone to the railway station, and had left for Hale, in Cornwall.

Like most of the other members of the crew who were denied an opportunity of meeting relatives, Mr. Rule was naturally annoyed at the arrangements which had prevented him having a chat with his brother, whom he may not see again for many months.

Mr. Rule told me he is one of four brothers who follow the sea. Three of them are masters of ships, but he himself, who entered the White Star Company's service thirty-five years ago as a steward, had been content to continue in that capacity.

"My first ship," he said, "was the Celtic. She had steam, but was square rigged as well, and carried canvas when the wind was favourable. At that time the only cabin lights were candles. I have sailed in the new Celtic and was also in the Olympic. I was transferred to the Titanic, and joined her at Belfast. I have been shipmates with Captain Smith for over thirty years. He was a splendid captain, and a good, kind-hearted man, and his crew, especially my own part of it, the stewards, always looked to him as a sort of father, he was so kindly and considerate to us." Then I asked Mr. Rule about the events of that fatal Sunday night when the Titanic went down. He was unwilling to talk about the loss of the great ship, and sometimes in the course of conversation he seemed about to break down, as the memory of the scenes attending the catastrophe were revived in his mind.

"I was in bed when the accident happened, as I was to be on duty at 3:15 in the morning, and had gone to bed about ten o'clock. The first thing that awoke me was the stoppage of the engines. No, I did not hear the crash of the collision, so I fancy it cannot have been very severe. There I awoke, and then I heard them going full-speed astern, and I got up and dressed. They don't run the engines full-speed astern in mid-Atlantic for nothing, and I thought it was time for me to get on deck.

Boats Not Provisioned.

"I reached the deck about midnight. They were then getting ready to lower the boats. I and some other stewards went below again with the storekeeper to get bread, biscuits, and other things to provision the boats. We carried a large quantity up and placed it on the boat deck, but it was never used. The first boats away did not wait for it, and the others were got away too hurriedly to give us any chance to provision them. My station was on the starboard side, where Mr. Murdock, the chief officer, was in charge. He was a first-rate man, and a fine officer for maintaining discipline. He managed the getting away of the boats without the least confusion. There was no panic or trouble on the starboard side. I helped to lower all the boats from No. 3 to No. 15. No one had been lowered while I was getting the bread and biscuits. The odd numbered boats were all on the starboard side of the boat deck. I don't know anything of what went on on the other side. I was told to go as one of the crew in No. 15 lifeboat. That was the last on our side. The remainder of the crew that were not wanted for the boats were standing still on the deck when we left. They all had life-belts on.

"I tell you, there were some brave men there that night. There were hundreds of heroes there whom no one has ever mentioned, and who will never be known. Look at the engine-room staff. Every engineer on the ship, and the whole of the stokehold watch on duty were lost. I believe that not one of the engineers ever came on deck from the time the ship struck till she went down. They kept the lights going till the ship was under water abaft the bridge, and till her stern was so far out of the water that the stern light was level with the masthead light. We all saw that from our boat, and we commented on it. The lights were going till the very last, and we watched them go out section by section as she went down by the bows."

Crowded Lifeboat.

"How many persons were in your boat?"

"Sixty-five, I believe. Some of the boats had seventy or more, but our boat was full, so much so that it was very difficult to row. We could pull just about half a stroke. We got away from the ship about 500 or 600 yards. Her propellers were then far above water. Just before she disappeared there was a rumbling inside the ship like an earthquake. Then the stern settled back a bit, and she went down so slowly and quietly that there was no suction or commotion in the water at all. I think the noise we heard was that of the boilers and engines breaking away from their seatings and falling down through the forward bulkheads. At the time it occurred, the ship was standing nearly upright in the water, with her stern in the air and the forward part as far as the after-funnel under water. Something had to give way with a ship in that position, and I believe the whole of the boilers and engines crashed down through the forward bulkheads and out of the ship.

"We were too far away to pick up anyone, and our boat was full as it was. We drifted about till about six in the morning, when the Carpathia picked us up. When it got clear, we were surrounded by ice. I never saw so much ice at one time in the Atlantic, and I have been crossing for over thirty-five years."

I asked Mr. Rule when he last saw Captain Smith, and he replied:

Captain's Last Moments.

"Just after I came on deck the first time. He was walking back from the engine-room, where I heard he had been to consult Mr. Bell, the chief engineer. That, of course, would be the first thing he would do after the collision. I heard from one of the firemen that he could have been saved, but he would not let them pull him out of the water. He did not want to live. I think that practically the whole of the watch on duty died at their posts. I know no one came up out of the engine-room."

"Did you see Mr. Astor or Mr. Stead after the collision?"

"I saw Mr. Astor standing by himself on deck. He was not doing anything. I think Mrs. Astor has left in the boats at that time. There was a lot in the American papers about him, but he was no more of a hero than hundreds of others. The American papers have printed a lot of things that were very unfair to us. I do not remember seeing Mr. Stead, but I did not know him. Mr. Astor's appearance I was very familiar with, as he crossed often in ships that I was in. The last time he crossed before this was in the Olympic."

"Did you hear the band play 'Nearer, my God to Thee'?"

"Awful Cries and Groans."

"I heard the band playing, but I don't know what the music was. They played a long time, and were playing when my boat left the ship. I think the worst part of the disaster was just after the ship went down. I shall never forget till my dying day the awful cries and groans that went up as she took the last plunge. It was dreadful, and we could do nothing. That was the worst of it, to feel yourself helpless and to know that hundreds were perishing within a few hundred yards."

And the sturdy seafarer turned away to hide an emotion that he was unable to control.

We would like to thank Wolfric Rogers for contributing this article to the Archive. If you would like to contribute a primary source to Titanic Archive, please contact us.