General Adolphus W. Greely, U. S. A., noted American traveler and Arctic explorer, vehemently denounced the sinking of the Titanic and the loss of over 1600 souls as a terrible sacrifice to the American mania for speed. He gave his opinion that the Titanic came to grief through an attempt on the part of the steamship management to establish a new record by the vessel on her maiden voyage.
The Titanic, General Greely declared, had absolutely no business above Cape Race and north of Sable Island on the trip on which she went to her doom. Choosing the northern route brought about the dire disaster, in his mind, and it was the saving of three hours for the sake of a new record that ended in the collision with the tragic victory for the ghostlike monster out of the far north.
It was the opinion of General Greely, capable of judging after his many trips in quest of the pole, that neither Captain Smith nor any of his officers saw the giant iceberg which encompassed their ruin until they were right upon it. Then, the ship was plunging ahead at such frightful velocity that the Titanic was too close to avert striking the barrier lined up across its path.
CHAPTER XXV. OTHER GREAT MARINE DISASTERS
THE danger of collision with icebergs has always been one of the most deadly that confront the mariner. Indeed, so well recognized is this peril of the Newfoundland Banks, where the Labrador current in the early spring and summer months floats southward its ghostly argosy of icy pinnacles detached from the polar ice caps, that the government hydrographic offices and the maritime exchanges spare no pains to collate and disseminate the latest bulletins on the subject.
A most remarkable case of an iceberg collision is that of the Guion Liner, Arizona, in 1879. She was then the greyhound of the Atlantic, and the largest ship afloat—5750 tons except the Great Eastern. Leaving New York in November for Liverpool, with 509 souls aboard, she was coursing across the Banks, with fair weather but dark, when, near midnight, about 250 miles east of St. John’s, she rammed a monster ice island at full speed eighteen knots. Terrific was the impact.
{illust. caption = THE SHAPE OF AN ICEBERG
Showing the bulk and formation under water and the consequent danger to vessels even without actual contact with the visible part of the iceberg.}
The welcome word was passed along that the ship, though sorely stricken, would still float until she could make harbor. The vast white terror had lain across her course, stretching so far each way that, when described, it was too late to alter the helm. Its giant shape filled the foreground, towering high above the masts, grim and gaunt and ghastly, immovable as the adamantine buttresses of a frowning seaboard, while the liner lurched and staggered like a wounded thing in agony as her engines slowly drew her back from the rampart against which she had flung herself.
She was headed for St. John’s at slow speed, so as not to strain the bulkhead too much, and arrived there thirty-six hours later. That little port—the crippled ship’s hospital—has seen many a strange sight come in from the sea, but never a more astounding spectacle than that which the Arizona presented the Sunday forenoon she entered there.
“Begob, captain!” said the pilot, as he swung himself over the rail. “I’ve heard of carrying coals to Newcastle, but this is the first time I’ve seen a steamer bringing a load of ice into St. John’s.”
They are a grim race, these sailors, and, the danger over, the captain’s reply was: “We were lucky, my man, that we didn’t all go to the bottom in an ice box.”
But to the one wounded ship that survives collision with a berg, a dozen perish. Presumably, when the shock comes, it loosens their bulkheads and they fill and founder, or the crash may injure the boilers or engines, which explode and tear out the sides, and the ship goes down like a plummet. As long ago as 1841, the steamer President, with 120 people aboard, crossing from New York to Liverpool in March, vanished from human ken. In 1854, in the same month, the City of Glasgow left Liverpool for Philadelphia with 480 souls, and was never again heard of. In February, 1856, the Pacific, from Liverpool for New York, carrying 185 persons, passed away down to a sunless sea. In May, 1870, the City of Boston, from that port for Liverpool, mustering 191 souls, met a similar fate. It has always been thought that these ships were sunk by collision with icebergs or floes. As shipping traffic has expanded, the losses have been more frequent. In February, 1892, the Naronic, from Liverpool for New York; in the same month in 1896, the State of Georgia, from Aberdeen for Boston; in February, 1899, the Alleghany, from New York for Dover; and once more in February, 1902, the Huronian, from Liverpool for St. John’s—all disappeared without leaving a trace. Between February and May, the Grand Banks are most infested with ice, and collision therewith is’ the most likely explanation of the loss of these steamers, all well manned and in splendid trim, and meeting only the storms which scores of other ships have braved without a scathe.
Among the important marine disasters recorded since 1866 are the following:
1866, Jan. 11.—Steamer London, on her way to Melbourne, foundered in the Bay of Biscay; 220 lives lost.
1866, Oct. 3.—Steamer Evening Star, from New York to New Orleans, foundered; about 250 lives lost.
1867, Oct. 29.—Royal Mail steamers Rhone and Wye and about fifty other vessels driven ashore and wrecked at St Thomas, West Indies, by a hurricane; about 1,000 lives lost.
1873, Jan. 22.—British steamer Northfleet sunk in collision off Dungeness; 300 lives lost
1873, Nov. 23.—White Star liner Atlantic wrecked off Nova Scotia; 547 lives lost.
1873, Nov. 23.—French line Ville du Havre, from New York to Havre, in collision with ship Locharn and sunk in sixteen minutes; 110 lives lost.
1874, Dec. 24.—Emigrant vessel Cospatrick took fire and sank off Auckland; 476 lives lost.
1875, May 7.—Hamburg Mail steamer Schiller wrecked in fog on Scilly Islands; 200 lives lost.
1875, Nov. 4.—American steamer Pacific in collision thirty miles southwest of Cape Flattery; 236 lives lost.
1878, March 24.—British training ship Eurydice, a frigate, foundered near the Isle of Wight; 300 lives lost.
1878, Sept. 3.—British iron steamer Princess Alice sunk in the Thames River; 700 lives lost.
1878, Dec. 18.—French steamer Byzantin sunk in collision in the Dardanelles with the British steamer Rinaldo; 210 lives lost.
1879, Dec. 2.—Steamer Borussia sank off the coast of Spain; 174 lives lost.
1880, Jan. 31.—British trading ship Atlanta left Bermuda with 290 men and was never heard from.
1881, Aug. 30.—Steamer Teuton wrecked off the Cape of Good Hope; 200 lives lost.
1883, July 3.—Steamer Daphne turned turtle in the Clyde; 124 lives lost.
1884, Jan. 18.—American steamer City of Columbus wrecked off Gay Head Light, Massachusetts; 99 lived lost.
1884, July 23.—Spanish steamer Gijon and British steamer Lux in collision off Finisterre; 150 lives lost.
1887, Jan. 29.—Steamer Kapunda in collision with bark Ada Melore off coast of Brazil; 300 lives lost.
1887, Nov. 15.—British steamer Wah Young caught fire between Canton and Hong Kong; 400 lives lost.
1888, Sept. 13.—Italian steamship Sud America and steamer La France in collision near the Canary Islands; 89 lives lost.
1889, March 16.—United States warships Trenton, Vandalia and Nipsic and German ships Adler and Eber wrecked on Samoan Islands; 147 lives lost.
1890, Jan. 2.—Steamer Persia wrecked on Corsica; 130 lives lost.
1890, Feb. 17.—British steamer Duburg wrecked in the China Sea; 400 lives lost.
1890, March 1.—British steamship Quetta foundered in Torres Straits; 124 lives lost.
