Happily, there is no need in these pages to attempt any minute estimate
of the share Andrews had in building the _Titanic_. Such a task, were it
feasible, would offer difficulties no less testing than those met
courageously by half the world's journalists when attempting to describe
the wonders of that ill-fated vessel--her length that of a suburban
street, her height the equivalent of a seventeen story building, her
elevator cars coursing up and down as through a city hotel, her
millionaire suites, her luxuries of squash racquet courts, Turkish and
electric bath establishments, salt water swimming pools, glass enclosed
sun parlours, verandah cafés, and all. Probably no one man, was solely
responsible for the beautiful thing. She was an evolution rather than a
creation, triumphant product of numberless experiments, a perfection
embodying who knows what endeavour, from this a little, from that a
little more, of human brain and hand and imagination. How many ships
were built, how many lost; how many men lived, wrought, and died that
the _Titanic_ might be?
So much being said, it may however be said further, that to her building
Andrews gave as much of himself as did any other man. All his experience
of ships, gained in the yards, on voyages, by long study, was in her;
all his deep knowledge, too, gathered during twenty years and now
applied in a crowning effort with an ardour that never flagged. It was
by the _Titanic_, "her vast shape slowly assuming the beauty and
symmetry which are but a memory to-day," that Mr. Childers met Andrews
and noted in him those qualities of zest, vigour, power and simplicity,
which impressed him deeply. Yet Andrews then was no whit more
enthusiastic, we feel sure, than on any other day of the great ship's
fashioning, from the time of her conception slowly down through the long
process of calculating, planning, designing, building, fitting, until at
last she sailed proudly away to the applause of half the world. Whatever
share others had in her, his at least cannot be gainsaid. As Lord
Pirrie's Assistant he had done his part by way of shaping into tangible
form the projects of her owners. As Chief Designer and Naval Architect
he planned her complete. As Managing Director he saw her grow up, frame
by frame, plate by plate, day after day throughout more than two years;
watched her grow as a father watches his child grow, assiduously,
minutely, and with much the same feelings of parental pride and
affection. For Andrews this was _his_ ship, whatever his hand in her:
and in that she was "efficiently designed and constructed" as is now
established[3] his fame as a Shipbuilder may well rest. As surely none
other did, he knew her inside and out, her every turn and art, the power
and beauty of her, from keel to truck--knew her to the last rivet. And
because he knew the great ship so well, as a father knows the child born
to him, therefore to lose her was heartbreak.
[3] Report of Mersey Commission, pp. 61 and 71.
[Illustration: THE "TITANIC" LEAVING BELFAST]
On Tuesday morning, April 2nd, 1912, at 6 a.m., the _Titanic_ left
Belfast, in ideal weather, and was towed down Channel to complete her
trials. On board was Andrews, representing the Firm. Her compasses being
adjusted, the ship steamed towards the Isle of Man, and after a
satisfactory run returned to the Lough about 6 p.m. Throughout the whole
day Andrews was busy, receiving representatives of the owners,
inspecting and superintending the work of internal completion, and
taking notes. "Just a line," he wrote to Mrs. Andrews, "to let you know
that we got away this morning in fine style and have had a very
satisfactory trial. We are getting more ship-shape every hour, but there
is still a great deal to be done."
Having received letters and transferred workmen, the ship left
immediately for Southampton, Andrews still on board and with him,
amongst others, the eight brave men from the Island Yard who perished
with him. They were:
William Henry Marsh Parr, Assistant Manager Electrical Department.
Roderick Chisholm, Ships' Draughtsman.
Anthony W. Frost, Outside Foreman Engineer.
Robert Knight, Leading Hand Engineer.
William Campbell, Joiner Apprentice.
Alfred Fleming Cunningham, Fitter Apprentice.
Frank Parkes, Plumber Apprentice.
Ennis Hastings Watson, Electrician Apprentice.
During the whole of Wednesday, the 3rd, until midnight, when the ship
arrived at Southampton, Andrews was ceaselessly employed going round
with representatives of the owners and of the Firm, in taking notes and
preparing reports of work still to be done. All the next day, from an
early hour, he spent with managers and foremen putting work in hand.
In the evening he wrote to Mrs. Andrews: "I wired you this morning of
our safe arrival after a very satisfactory trip. The weather was good
and everyone most pleasant. I think the ship will clean up all right
before sailing on Wednesday": and then he mentions that the doctors
refused to allow Lord Pirrie to make the maiden voyage.
Thereafter from day to day, until the date of sailing, he was always
busy, taking the owners round ship, interviewing engineers, officials,
agents, managers, sub-contractors, discussing with principals the plans
of new ships, and superintending generally the work of completion.
"Through the various days that the vessel lay at Southampton," writes
his Secretary, Mr. Thompson Hamilton, "Mr. Andrews was never for a
moment idle. He generally left his hotel about 8.30 for the offices,
where he dealt with his correspondence, then went on board until 6.30,
when he would return to the offices to sign letters. During the day I
took to the ship any urgent papers and he always dealt with them no
matter what his business." Nothing he allowed to interfere with duty. He
was conscientious to the minutest detail. "He would himself put in their
place such things as racks, tables, chairs, berth ladders, electric
fans, saving that except he saw everything right he could not be
satisfied."
One of the last letters he wrote records serious trouble with the
restaurant galley hot press, and directs attention to a design for
reducing the number of screws in stateroom hat hooks.
Another of earlier date, in the midst of technicalities about cofferdams
and submerged cylinders on the propeller boss, expresses agreement with
the owner that the colouring of the pebble dashing on the private
promenade decks was too dark, and notes a plan for staining green the
wicker furniture on one side of the vessel.
Withal, his thought for others never failed. Now he is arranging for a
party to view the ship; now writing to a colleague, "I have always in
mind a week's holiday due to you from last summer and shall be glad if
you will make arrangements to take these on my return, as, although you
may not desire to have them, I feel sure that a week's rest will do you
good."
On the evening of Sunday, the 7th, he wrote to Mrs. Andrews giving her
news of his movements and dwelling upon the plans he had in mind for the
future.
On the 9th he wrote: "The _Titanic_ is now about complete and will I
think do the old Firm credit to-morrow when we sail."
On the 10th he was aboard at 6 o'clock, and thence until the hour of
sailing he spent in a long final inspection of the ship. She pleased
him. The old Firm was sure of its credit. Just before the moorings were
cast off he bade goodbye to Mr. Hamilton and the other officials. He
seemed in excellent health and spirits. His last words were, "Remember
now and keep Mrs. Andrews informed of any news of the vessel."
The _Titanic_, carrying 2,201 souls, left Southampton punctually at noon
on April 10th. There was no departure ceremony. On her way from dock she
passed the _Majestic_ and the _Philadelphia_, both giants of twenty
years ago and now by contrast with Leviathan humbled to the stature of
dwarfs. About a mile down the water she passed Test Quay, where the
_Oceanic_ and the _New York_ lay berthed. Her wash caused the _New York_
to break her moorings and drift into the Channel. As the _Titanic_ was
going dead slow danger of a collision was soon averted, "but," as
Andrews wrote that evening, "the situation was decidedly unpleasant."
From Cherbourg he wrote again to Mrs. Andrews: "We reached here in nice
time and took on board quite a number of passengers. The two little
tenders looked well, you will remember we built them about a year ago.
We expect to arrive at Queenstown about 10.30 a.m. to-morrow. The
weather is fine and everything shaping for a good voyage. I have a seat
at the Doctor's table."
One more letter was received from him by Mrs. Andrews, and only one,
this time from Queenstown, and dated April 11th. Everything on board was
going splendidly, he said, and he expressed his satisfaction at
receiving so much kindness from everyone.
Here all direct testimony ceases. Proudly, in eye of the world, the
_Titanic_ sailed Westward from the Irish coast; then for a while
disappeared; only to reappear in a brief scene of woefullest tragedy
round which the world stayed mute. If, as is almost certain, a chronicle
of the voyage was made by Andrews, both it and the family letters he
wrote now are gone with him. But fortunately, we have other evidence,
plentiful and well-attested, and on such our story henceforward runs.
The steward, Henry E. Etches, who attended him says, that during the
voyage, right to the moment of disaster, Andrews was constantly busy.
With his workmen he went about the boat all day long, putting things
right and making note of every suggestion of an imperfection. Afterwards
in his stateroom, which is described as being full of charts, he would
sit for hours, making calculations and drawings for future use.
Others speak of his great popularity with both passengers and crew. "I
was proud of him," writes the brave stewardess, Miss May Sloan, of
Belfast, whose testimony is so invaluable. "He came from home and he
made you feel on the ship that all was right." And then she adds how
because of his big, gentle, kindly nature everyone loved him. "It was
good to hear his laugh and have him near you. If anything went wrong it
was always to Mr. Andrews one went. Even when a fan stuck in a
stateroom, one would say, 'Wait for Mr. Andrews, he'll soon see to it,'
and you would find him settling even the little quarrels that arose
between ourselves. Nothing came amiss to him, nothing at all. And he was
always the same, a nod and a smile or a hearty word whenever he saw you
and no matter what he was at."
Two of his table companions, Mr. and Mrs. Albert A. Dick, of Calgary,
Alberta, also tell how much they came to love Andrews because of his
character, and how good it was to see his pride in the ship, "but upon
every occasion, and especially at dinner on Sunday evening, he talked
almost constantly about his wife, little girl, mother and family, as
well as of his home."
This pre-occupation with home and all there, was noticed too by Miss
Sloan. Sometimes, between laughs, he would suddenly fall grave and
glance, you might say, back over a shoulder towards Dunallan and Ardara
far off near Strangford Lough.
"I was talking to him on the Friday night as he was going into dinner,"
writes Miss Sloan, in a letter dated from the _Lapland_ on April 27th.
"The dear old Doctor[4] was waiting for him on the stair-landing, and
calling him by his Christian name, Tommy. Mr. Andrews seemed loth to go,
he wanted to talk about home; he was telling me his father was ill and
Mrs. Andrews not so well. I was congratulating him on the beauty and
perfection of the ship; he said the part he did not like was that the
_Titanic_ was taking us further away from home every hour. I looked at
him and his face struck me as having a very sad expression."
[4] Dr. W. F. N. O'Loughlin, Senior Surgeon of the White Star
Line, a close friend of Andrews and his companion on many
voyages. Some lines which he helped to write have been quoted.
Soon after the ship struck he said to Miss Sloan--"child, things
are very bad," and went to his death bravely. His Assistant,
Dr. T. E. Simpson, son of an eminent Belfast physician, and
himself a physician of much promise, died with him.
One other glimpse we have of him, then in that brief time of triumph,
whilst yet the good ship of his which everyone praised was speeding
Westwards, "in perfectly clear and fine weather," towards the place
where "was no moon, the stars were out, and there was not a cloud in the
sky."[5] For more than a week he had been working at such pressure, that
by the Friday evening many saw how tired as well as sad he looked: but
by the Sunday evening, when his ship was as perfect, so he said, as
brains could make her, he was himself again. "I saw him go in to
dinner," said Miss Sloan, "he was in good spirits, and I thought he
looked splendid."
[5] Report of Mersey Commission, p. 29.
An hour or two afterwards he went aft to thank the baker for some
special bread he had made for him; then back to his stateroom, where
apparently he changed into working clothes, and sat down to write.
He was still writing, it would seem, when the Captain called him.