The Legend
(in rhyme and poetry)
~ ~ ~ 250 verses ~ ~ ~
Life has many stories,
some do touch a few.
But none have touched so many,
as stories of "Titanic" do.
~ ~ ~
Joseph C. Dorffner, Sr. / Kerry A. Dorffner
/ Jamie L. Dorffner
A father / daughters work - Project of mutual love
This is the legend,
it is written in rhyme.
The story true to life,
written over time.
It is of a great ship,
RMS Titanic by name.
My attempt to honor her,
giving praise to her fame.
RMS stood for the wording,
"Royal Mail Steamer" as was she.
A lady built also for passengers,
to speed them across the sea.
Having read accounts by others,
seen in movies the story unfold.
To give the impression of great research,
I would never be so bold.
Borrowing the knowledge of others,
I pen to paper this account.
That it impress those readers,
that have read of her any amount.
She was second sister,
to number one and number three.
Their names Olympic and Britannic,
they too great ships of maritime pedigree.
They are other stories,
not within these verses told.
Though they too marked history,
with their splendor and size of old.
All three built by Harland and Wolff,
of Belfast in Ireland were they.
Built for White Star Line in their quest,
for superiority in shipping of that day.
On 31 March 1909,
Titanic was given birth.
As was laid her keel,
iron made from mother earth.
Fourteen thousand workers,
most of Irish descent.
Two years in construction,
to her hull was spent.
Their labor it was paid,
two pounds a forty nine hour work week.
Those being fair wages,
in the days that herein speak.
Welding of such mass,
not known in that day.
Bonded one-by-one with rivets,
that was the accepted way.
Three million steel rivets,
an estimated twelve hundred ton.
Inserted and malleably tightened,
plates and skeleton joined as one.
On 31 May, the year 1911,
just over two years it be.
She slid the lubricated ways,
within 62 seconds into the sea.
Initial launching was with little fanfare,
as was customary for White Star Line.
There was no Christening with Champagne,
nor ceremony to consign.
She was now taken to a fitting-out basin,
here her empty hull to be fitted out.
Upper decks and equipment below,
all the best of the day no doubt.
Fitted with twenty nine boilers,
three engines and triple screws too.
Dynamos, pumps and elevators,
plus all sorts of luxury to see her through.
Skilled labor worked upon her,
all their best they did give.
With all the best materials,
that longevity she would live.
This great ship by nature of design,
was to be spacious all about.
Not designed for crossing speed,
although of speed there was no doubt.
She was built with four high funnels,
though only three were used.
The other used only for air venting,
thus it hardly was abused.
This design was to add beauty,
making the ship a better view.
Adding to the size and splendor,
as great designers do.
Divided into passenger class,
as British standard did then allow.
She was divided by the decks,
from stern up to the bow.
Class was based on what a man had,
or what a man had not.
Money bought position and status,
which in those days meant a lot.
Aboard were wealthy industrialists,
financially stable folk as well.
Then the poorest immigrants,
of their attire, one could tell.
The money folk, first class were they,
well-to-do, second class be.
Thus were left the poorest,
third class (steerage), though not for free.
Third class was bread and butter,
for any passenger line.
They brought easy money,
little space they to assign.
They could be pressed into tight quarters,
many sharing room and bath.
For most this was one-way to America,
their belief that life held a better path.
Her hull was likewise divided,
into compartments, water tight be.
As to reduce the risk of disaster,
even slipping into the sea.
These barricades bore watertight doors,
closed by sensors or by man.
To seal the flooding compartment(s),
keeping safe the ship till it reached land.
Across her stern she wore "Liverpool",
this her port of registry be.
Such a port all ships must have,
as set by International Treaty.
She was termed unsinkable,
by word of mouth and press.
But still there was skepticism,
she had not been put to the test.
Though she was deemed unsinkable,
still lifeboats she had to carry.
Thought never to be needed,
but some day others ferry.
She complied with regulations,
sixteen lifeboats a must.
They added four collapsibles,
needed more, In God they'd Trust.
These would carry a grand total,
eleven hundred seventy eight.
About one third Titanic's capacity,
the rest be left to fate.
On 31 March, of 1912,
her outfitting over with and done.
Now she the greatest steam ship,
most luxurious, the most awesome one.
Words used to describe her,
comments that would bind.
Beauty, strength, power, grace,
words understood by all mankind.
The dome above the "Grand Staircase",
elegance for first class to bear.
Though not for third or second class,
not even for their stare.
It is said she had gym and spa,
heated pool as well.
To spoil the likes of first class,
the others not to tell.
The stokers they were many,
shoveling coal, the boilers to fire.
So hot, so tiring was their work,
few men this job desire.
Her sea trials only lasted,
for one day at the very best.
She had been built by craftsmen,
her reliance they could attest.
The ship's chief designer, Thomas Andrews,
stood with pride and glee.
For he had created the largest ship,
in all maritime history.
She now the grandest ocean liner,
largest moving object upon this earth.
Technical advances comprised her,
laid into her design even prior to birth.
"TITANIC" was a well chosen name,
indeed she was a titan, a giant among ships.
To fill her needs both sides of the Atlantic,
required new and massive slips.
A coal strike in progress,
stockpiles running low.
Coal from other White Star ships,
commandeered to Titanic bunkers below.
These other smaller steamers,
now restricted to port.
Their passengers, baggage and mail,
onto Titanic bound for New York.
Among her cargo holdings,
a rich man's pleasure by far.
There a Renault automobile,
the real man's luxury car.
On Wednesday, 10 April 1912,
Southampton, England was the scene.
Passengers boarded Titanic (9:30 to 11:30 am),
departed at Noon powered under steam.
This her maiden voyage,
her engines to be broken in.
She hauling passengers, mail and light cargo,
her future thought just to begin.
By 6:30 PM, at anchor in Cherbourg, France,
a stay of less two hours, then on the way.
On to Queenstown, Ireland,
there for just slightly more a stay.
She arrived in Ireland,
Queenstown by the sea.
To take on mail and more immigrants,
America bound they be.
There the promises of a rich new life,
jobs, homes and security were told.
Now they, some their families did go,
the young, the middle aged, the old.
On Thursday, 11 April 1912 at 1:30 PM,
Titanic departed Queenstown.
The long journey across the Atlantic,
New York City she was bound.
As Irish mountain tops,
did fade out of view.
This was their last glimpse,
of any mass except ocean blue.
Aboard were those of wealth (first class),
some too walked the paths of fame.
Herein to speak of a few,
mentioning them by name.
John Jacob Astor, richest man on board,
Madeleine his youthful wife.
They kept the gossip tongues wagging,
the opinions as to such a way of life.
John, he now aged forty seven,
she nineteen and in a delicate way.
Returning from an extended honeymoon,
with staff and quarters for their stay.
Benjamin Guggenhein, noted playboy,
with Madame Aubert and her maid.
Though he had wife and children,
she with him to New York was paid.
Sir Cosmo and Lady Duff Gordon,
she of ladies' attire fame.
She best known for ladies' undergarments,
stylish and sexy, not for the lame.
Isidor and Ida Straus,
founders of Macy's Department Store.
Forty one years they had been wed,
still their love for each the other soared.
Mrs. J. J. Brown (Molly Brown),
though she traveling alone.
Her husband's gold mine riches,
paid her ticket it could be shown.
Many more of high social class,
of means to go along.
Sharing company in rich surroundings,
paying the price to belong.
As she put out to sea they found,
smoldering coal in bunker number five.
Many stokers toiled three long days,
to empty and the fire to unhive.
Meals they were served,
with elegance and grace.
Each piece of dinnerware,
laid neatly in its place.
The dinnerware bore the emblem,
symbol for White Star Line.
That the feel of warmth and comfort,
bestow them as they wined and dined.
The stores they laid heavy,
that all be well fed.
Long hours in the kitchen,
the cooks they did dread.
75,000 pounds of fresh meat,
a butcherman's delight.
Though his cutting and chopping,
went long into the night.
35,000 fresh laid eggs,
to brighten morning eyes.
poached, fried or scrambled,
answering the waiters' cries.
Forty tons of potatoes,
that was quite a few.
Most shedding their brown skins,
as well the peeler knew.
100 bottles of choice wine,
15,000 bottles of ale.
That partakers could indulge,
sharing a shipboard tale.
Both Friday and Saturday,
they did come and go.
The weather clear, the sea was calm,
such perfect settings, they to show.
Sunday the fourteenth, this the Lord's day,
brought rest and thanksgiving.
The Captain did lead a service,
he spoke of the ocean and it unforgiving.
The meals that day were said to be,
the very best served to date.
For some it was their last meals,
for these were to meet their fate.
On this day the sunset,
in all it's splendor be,
Reflected by the water,
of the vast and calm blue sea.
Captain Edward John Smith was admired,
by crew and passengers as well.
His presence and authority felt,
gave an air of order as one could tell.
This top notched officer,
seaman of forty plus seafaring years.
This his last Atlantic crossing command,
planned retirement with his dears.
His life to go on with loving wife Eleanor,
the teenage daughter they had.
To devote time to gardening,
as well as being husband and dad.
He had commanded her sister ship Olympic,
commanded her across the sea.
So we know well he knew her feel,
this beautiful Titanic, She.
Ship to ship and ship to shore wireless,
still in it's youthful days.
Brought Marconi Wireless Company,
radio equipment and an antenna maze.
Her equipment the most powerful,
five kilowatt designed.
With her transmissions,
her call sign it was signed.
Titanic's call sign as first assigned,
was given as "MUC".
Changed later to "MGY",
this carried last into history.
Their range was four hundred miles,
by the light of day.
Two thousand miles by night time sky,
as the signal skipped along its way.
The two youthful Marconi operators,
busy at their lookout post.
Gave little attention to other ship warnings,
paying customers got the most.
These were the days of spark,
with trained fist upon a key.
Thus did Jack Philips and Harold Bride,
send messages from far out at sea.
With headphones engulfing their ears,
Morse dots and dashes rang out.
Trained ears heard letters, formed words,
a message followed no doubt.
Though under Captain Smith's command,
the youthful men worked for Marconi.
As for ship to ship messages,
White Star paid no tab, "no balony".
There were many ice field warnings,
from other ships that saw.
They were delivered to the bridge,
only when message backlog did fall.
Some went straight to the Captain,
some posted on the bridge board.
There for all the command to see,
to take heed, not just trust the Lord.
The rugged North Atlantic,
harsh and jealous of her name.
Now set the stage for disaster,
an iceberg was to reap the blame.
Had been a mild winter the year of 1912,
many bergs Greenland coast had set free.
They floated into shipping lanes,
source of worry and concern they be.
Though were countless ice field warnings,
They the Captain did not heed.
Rather, feelings do hold strong,
the Captain's goal was speed.
To set a new speed crossing record,
under five days to be.
Pressured by J. Bruce Ismay,
White Star's Managing Director was he.
Now late evening, the Captain chose to rest,
with sleep as body did demand.
With instructions, the need awake he,
left Second Officer Lightoller in command.
In a last attempt to warn her,
the Californian initiated another contact.
"Shut up! Shut up! I am busy! I am working Cape Race!",
this the reply an irritated Philips sent back.
Philips returned to his message sending,
no regard to this fruitless attempt.
Due to this action of disconcern,
a warning to the bridge not sent.
The Californian wireless operator,
stood by for another half-hour.
Hopes he could complete his warning,
When Philips' mood not so sour.
But the string of messages,
went on and on non-stop.
In need of rest and sleep,
The Californian operator near to flop.
He had done his best,
beyond his duties cry.
Was not his lack of trying,
soon Titanic to die.
The watch went uneventful,
Charles Lightoller was soon relieved.
1st Officer William Murdoch,
the night air, he lightly grieved.
The lookouts likewise rotated,
off watch went Lightoller's pair.
On came seamen Fleet and Lee,
the crow's-nest for them to share.
Only one pair of binoculars,
had been issued for ship's use.
The officers in the Bridge pilot house,
refused with dignity to turn them loose.
It was a cold, dark, and moonless night,
the waters calm as a mill race.
The lookouts strained their unaided eyes,
for telltale wash of water at berg's base.
As Titanic sped through icy waters,
an object lay in her path.
One placed there by nature,
its existence to bring her wrath.
Suddenly the silence was broken,
a bell thrice rang out.
Followed by the interphone,
a voice of fear in shout.
Came the call from the crow's-nest,
"iceberg right ahead" . . . . .
Lateness of the call, reaction time as well,
set the course for events, they to dread.
First Officer Murdoch now in command,
gave these directives three.
Full stop, full astern, then hard-to-starboard,
sealed was her fate to be.
Hampered was the great ship's ability,
to maneuver into a turn.
The bow finally turned sluggishly,
too late was all to learn.
She scraped over submerged,
unseen mass of the blue berg.
Steel plates were sent buckling,
rivets popped the noise thus heard.
The ore that made her huge steel plates,
high in sulfur content it be.
This made them undesirably brittle,
when set in cold ice sea.
Though the damage was minor,
major was the extent.
This meant water was flooding,
her life would soon be spent.
Murdoch ordered the watertight doors,
now be electrically closed.
In case there be flooding waters,
good decision in most cases posed.
A directive was then issued,
time and events be logged.
There in the great ships record,
that later they not be fogged.
This iceberg held Titanic's fate,
though only a glancing blow.
Soon the word from lower decks,
much flooding down below.
As said she was a mail ship,
with mail clerks there to sort.
Three Americans and two English,
mail handled port to port.
They were employed by their countries,
both postal system in control there.
All working in closest harmony,
the work most abundant to share.
Located down on "G" deck,
way up toward the bow.
The post office and sorting room,
near the line where the water plow.
This "Sea Post" room,
as it came to be known.
Contained near thirty five hundred,
bags of mail it was shown.
Over three hundred thousand,
pieces of deliverable post.
A proud and efficient operation,
each country could boast.
As the flooding water poured in,
tempting the mail and its fate.
The clerks carried it up higher,
but the waters not to wait.
Soon it engulfed the mail,
the clerks there as well.
They among the ship's first,
to know of the Arctic's hell.
Captain Smith came onto the bridge,
command returned to he.
He questioned of the events,
then what the damage be.
Andrews and the captain,
far below decks they went.
To inspect the inflicted damage,
to determine what it meant.
Andrews had headed her design,
overseen her construction he.
Now in a final seal of approval,
with her going across the sea.
The berg had given rupture,
to six compartments there.
Designed to survive five,
this more than she could bear.
The flooding was extensive,
An hour or so the estimate best.
As the bow sank lower it was evident,
man and ship put to the test.
It now after midnight,
just into the next day.
Cold, darkness, and confusion,
little comfort there to say.
The Captain did give the word,
the order it was passed.
Start sending distress signals,
this ship it will not last.
First CQD (calling any station - distress),
was sparked over the air.
Then switched to SOS (words undefined),
meaning distress, three letters to bear.
The captain ordered the lifeboats be loaded,
with women, children and manning crew.
All the rest stand aboard and clear,
he knew well the boats were few.
Shrilling blasts did acclaim,
the pressure in the boilers below.
As pressure relief's did blow off,
the escape oh so slow.
The sound it was deafening,
ears rang with pain.
Voice commands went unheard,
until the excess did drain.
Then as though a silence,
as the shrill did cease.
Command versus chaos,
order the very least.
Eight musicians came together,
they of two distinct bands.
One a quintet, the other trio,
now instruments in hands.
They joined as one unit,
to be led by one baton.
Their conductor now Wallace Hartley,
in harmony to play on.
First they played in the lounge on A deck,
this to the attention of a few.
They knew the need for better location,
as the concern and crowd both grew.
They then gathered on the boat deck,
knowing panic was close at hand.
To calm the beast and set the mood,
the job of them now most in demand.
First they played loud and lively,
ragtime as it was believed.
Still other styles and selections,
as she sank deeper as perceived.
The sea poured in fast and cold,
taking her deeper by the bow.
The lifeboats soon being loaded,
some loading went afoul.
One boat was near lowered,
upon another there below.
The launching so unskillful,
in the darkness went so slow.
Some were skimpily loaded,
quickly launched, ushered away,
Afar from the fast sinking ship,
here out of fear safely to stay.
Fear of overloading and capsizing,
by swimmers in their raves.
As well the suction of the big ship,
as she dropped beneath the waves.
When the Captain called closer,
to fill all boats to full.
They turned to him a deaf ear,
away their oars did pull.
One boat paid heed to orders,
oaring back to save a few.
Five men plucked from the waters,
survival they each knew.
There were canine kennels,
for its first-class passengers' pets.
A crewman assigned to walking them,
once a day you bet.
A thoughtful passenger had released them,
as not to drown in stay.
But only two survivors,
with owners' to lifeboats that day.
No felines were on board,
though it considered "Good Luck" there.
The rats scurried for their lives,
these frigid conditions, not long to bear.
The captain knew all too well,
the calm and order would not last.
He ordered firearms be broken out,
to some the officers they be passed.
Rockets launched from the port bridge deck,
did burst high and bright in the air.
They were an attempt to signal distress,
to the ship they thought nearby there.
Though they were spaced at 5 minute intervals,
there was an error for sure.
The bursts were white in color,
mistaken for celebration on shipboard.
The Californian only four or five miles away,
lay stopped in pack ice for the night.
Her captain and lone radio operator,
retired till early morning light.
Some of the on watch crew,
saw flares burst in the sky.
After eight they awakened the captain,
signal by Morse light his outcry.
To this there was no answer,
over the horizon she be.
The rockets high seen by the Californian,
signal lamp low not seen by she.
He saw no cause for worry,
the white flares little meant.
His radio operator not listening,
back to sleep he went.
She exhausted all her rockets,
there had been only eight.
If these had caught attention,
a response she had to wait.
Captain Rostron of the small liner Carpathia,
had stopped his ship this night.
His location fifty eight miles from Titanic,
over the horizon well out of sight.
His one radio operator in going off watch,
by a stroke of uncanny luck.
Heard the Titanic's plea for help,
the phones from his head about to pluck.
SOS MGY REQUIRE ASSISTANCE
IMMEDIATELY STRUCK BY
ICEBERG 41 46 NORTH
50 14 WEST SINKING
He sped with word to the captain,
rudely awaken hardly able to believe.
Soon was set course for her assistance,
the truth they all to see.
The captain cut the steam,
used for hot water and for heat.
To muster up all the energy,
Titanic's sinking boat to beat.
His crew gathered blankets,
prepared for what lie ahead.
Ordered his passengers confined to cabins,
there in safety and order sted.
While still on board Titanic,
the fight for life went on.
Survival through the darkness of night,
might bring on a bright new dawn.
The gamblers, they played poker,
as others raced about.
Lacking fear the "Ace of Spades",
or luck running out.
Some cursed the Almighty,
as though he played a hand.
Only "Faith" in their keeping,
made others understand.
The word of Carpathia's coming,
spread quickly among the crew.
It gave them hope and comfort,
if it surely be true.
Many the seaman, stood at his station,
manning boilers, pumps and dynamos.
To buy a little more time afloat,
and maintain calm as orders imposed.
With the dynamos kept alive,
the lights they remained lit.
The fear of darkness thus untold,
they not cast to that pit.
The band continued its grueling task,
maintaining calm during this misery.
Even as this great and awesome ship,
sank head first, deeper into the sea.
The end would soon be over,
a last played hymn worthy of she.
Lastly as the ship slipped into the deep,
"Nearer, My God to Thee."
Though some say this not true,
rather "Songe d'Automne," a waltz.
As Titanic slipped in final plunge,
into sea, they and instruments toss.
Father Thomas Roussel Byles,
heard confessions and absolution gave.
That those end their lives in grace,
when to their watery grave.
He too lead the group in prayer,
the "Holy Rosary" it was said.
Praying for peace and salvation,
they all knew they soon would be dead.
The crack of gunshots rang out,
officers discharged shots into the air.
To regain control and gain attention,
of some the panic so unfair.
Whether anyone was shot,
is disputed to this day.
One witness did step forth,
but of proof, had no say.
Mister and Missus Straus,
from he she would not part.
Rather she would die by his side,
sharing her love of heart.
People jumped and were thrown by motion,
into the icy waters of the Atlantic.
They splashed, screamed and raved,
by this time they were in total panic.
The water at twenty eight degrees,
did stab the body as a thousand knives.
None were spared this torturous engulfment,
men, women, husbands, children, wives.
The screams, the pleads,
from the living swimming about.
Sounded as a top scoring,
at a home game with crowd shout.
The forward funnel snapped supports,
falling into the sea.
Fell upon some swimming there,
quick death to some as it were to be.
Some were only injured,
making matters much worse.
So helpless they in the water,
they screamed, raved, and cursed.
One by one, they grew weak,
then drew their last breaths.
Volume of the cry,
declining with their untimely deaths.
Soon hypothermia the victims it claimed,
the cold too intense for the body to take.
They bobbed like fishing corks,
lifebelts supporting the wake.
Captain Smith, last seen on the bridge,
without a lifebelt on.
Most likely went down with his command,
for his body it was gone.
Last seen, Thomas Andrews (the designer),
stood transfixed in shock and dismay.
For how could he have visualized,
Titanic's tragedy this day, this way.
Though I would think, he a word with God,
his concerns for his child and wife.
For surely his love for spouse Helen,
flashed by as did all his deeds in life.
Titanic's stern did rise,
high into the air.
Her three massive propellers,
a sight there to bear.
Those still onboard had made their way,
to the poop deck far to stern.
They could travel no further,
as soon they did learn.
As her bow sank deeper,
into the watery sea.
The angle of incline,
much greater to be.
As her bow went under,
and her stern sharply rise.
All hell and fury cut loose,
much to their surprise.
Loose objects there within,
went sliding toward the bow.
Like tilting a long incline,
down the ramp they did plow.
Massive objects broke their moorings,
as did some boilers below.
Falling within flooding waters,
their sound for all to know.
She became as a giant sliding board,
for those unable to hold on.
Sliding and falling along the way,
to them the ship was gone.
The weight of the stern,
now high into the sky.
Created great stress,
her structure could not buy.
She split with great agony,
as heard by those in the boats.
The bow breaking free,
the stern staying longer afloat.
For a minute or so the stern,
looked to stay afloat.
As though to serve those still living,
as yet another lifeboat.
But soon, this did too,
slide like a sled.
Straight for the bottom,
to the very sea bed.
She sank with awe and beauty,
as she slid beneath the waves.
Taking those so unfortunate,
to their deep, cold, watery graves.
This was two hours after midnight,
barely into Monday morn.
A day long to be remembered,
a day many to scorn.
She had been held afloat,
longer than fate meant to be.
Two and one-half hours,
then consumed by the sea.
Her crew, they were heroes,
many died at their post.
That they had given their all for her,
in the hereafter, was their boast.
This did leave in the ice cold water,
those that did cling on.
Afloat in their lifebelts,
for now she was gone.
The "Angel of Death" resided there,
long into the darkened night.
The dying seemed so countless,
as they did meet their plight.
Each soul, one by one,
he reaped into his catch.
Sending them in the direction,
their life herein to match.
Some he dispatched up toward God,
others straight to Hell.
For theirs had been a wicked life,
this he knew all too well.
Bruce Ismay had climbed into a collapsible,
thus spared death was he.
But not from mankind's inhumanity to man,
only from the sea.
The oarsmen of the tiny crafts,
took turns rowing with their boats able.
To conserve strength and keep warm,
survival effort to turn the table.
Some shared their body heat,
with those scantily clad.
With hopes of survival,
looking bleak and all too sad.
Huddled in a blanket,
or a coat shared by two.
This was their best chance,
the night to see them through.
The boats were tied in groups,
they not to drift apart.
To wander aimlessly in the sea,
that would not have been too smart.
The Carpathia in answer to distress call,
had sped hurriedly through ice and night.
But her hasty arrival was too late,
short of lifeboats, many met their plight.
The survivors were taken on board,
Made as comfortable as was giving.
Warmth, food, and hot drink,
to restore their bodies to the living.
J. Bruce Ismay when taken on board,
was given the ship doctor's cabin alone.
But this did not give him peace of mind,
or his worldly sins atone.
He bore blame for Titanic's ice field speed,
that sped her through the night.
There to meet her destiny,
all aboard to meet their plight.
Aboard this ship the survivors,
in sadness and dispair.
Joined in services held there,
a show of human care.
One service for the lucky.
for whom life to go on.
Another for those less fortunate,
remembrance of those gone.
Her passengers showed compassion,
giving of their own.
Clothing, food and their blankets,
shared cabins, the needy not be alone.
Carpathia then carried them,
to New York and her pier.
Where they disembarked in solitude,
low tone greetings, eyes full of tears.
Though this was three days later,
than was scheduled them to be.
They held life dear and priceless,
they spared from the deadly sea.
Southampton went into mourning,
vast members of the crew resided there.
So many deaths from a single town,
was more than most could bear.
Most all the living residents were touched,
by family, friend, or kin.
Of the five hundred forty nine lost there,
most were married men.
Left behind two hundred thirty two widows,
to whom they were wed.
One thousand two hundred thirty nine,
orphaned, born of them it is said.
Of the twenty two hundred, twenty eight,
passengers and crew on board that day.
Only seven hundred and five were saved,
the remaining, some their bodies to stay.
Others of the bodies with lifebelts on,
went floating into shipping lanes.
Where a dispatched ship picked them up,
then were seen to their remains.
The unidentifiable bodies,
unclear who they might be.
Were sewn into canvas bags,
weighted and sank into the sea.
This was done with reverence,
words of prayer said.
Each body an individual respected,
each going to final rest upon ocean bed.
For as much as it has pleased . . . . . .,
these words to heaven up on high.
We commit his (her) body to the deep,
Said with a farewell sigh.
Some were interned in Nova Scotia,
a very special place.
The tab paid by White Star Line,
a tribute to the human race.
These all share common plots,
unclaimed bodies of all class they be.
Now they share as equals,
three cemeteries in Halifax, by the sea.
Others, their bodies were claimed,
by relatives and/or friends.
Buried they in family plots,
with reverence to their ends.
The last body found in June,
a shipboard waiter was he.
With all due reverence and respect,
he too, buried out at sea.
In all, three hundred fifty six bodies,
were pulled from the sea.
With fifteen hundred twenty two souls lost,
Eleven hundred sixty six lost bodies be.
There was fate that left some behind,
ship's owner and some crew too.
The owner did chance, the crew were late,
thus the non-boarded survivors few.
The men who had built her,
they too felt the pain.
The sweat, the skill, the love for her,
all put forth as though in vain.
Like unto a youthful marriage,
to die without a child.
Lost just after the Honeymoon,
a union unreconciled.
Though there were other ships,
to build in days to come.
None could equal the love of man,
Titanic was number one.
Inquires into the disaster,
were held on both Atlantic shores,
To find the cause and fix the blame,
to end for all time, open question doors.
But many of the answers,
lay two and one half miles deep at sea.
Therefore many truths were disputed,
higher rank accept and speculation be.
Both the U.S. Senate Inquiry,
and the British Board of Trade.
Proposed sweeping safety changes,
to Maritime Law be made.
First and most important,
lifeboats aboard for all.
Reduced speed in ice fields,
for ships both big and small.
Mandatory safety drills,
both passengers and crew.
If the need there arises,
the rules they each knew.
Above all was the giving of birth,
to the "Coast Guard" as given name.
To warn ships of shipping lane dangers,
this to mark their purpose and fame.
To you "Dear Lady Titanic",
I dedicate these words.
That they express my feelings,
go not as unheards.
You laid at rest for seventy plus years,
two and one half miles deep in the ocean.
In cold, in darkness, at great pressure,
where winds and wave show no motion.
Modern mankind now come to you,
to see your aging form.
To pick your bones, your relics take,
that deeper understanding be born.
Some think this hallowed ground,
a monument to those therein departed.
Others feel the gravity of knowledge,
override tradition, mankind thus smarted.
The search for truths still goes on,
even to this very day.
To affirm the associated facts,
the truth be known and not hear-say.
Grave robbing or preservation,
is a matter of choice.
many in expression of heart,
have deemed to raise their voice.
We have seen many truths,
with eye and camera too.
The destruction and erosion,
that's been done to you.
The rusticles eat upon you,
your flesh and your bones.
Creating scale and waste,
colored in many tones.
But just as man does cycle,
is said from dust to dust.
Were you not born of ore,
and now decay in rust?
Soon Mother Earth will reclaim you,
you shall be no more.
Only unpicked pieces in the debris field,
lying on the ocean floor.
You were a "Great Lady,"
short lived was your stay.
Those that know your story,
Embrace you to this day.
WEBTV USERS
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