Lore 299: Unsinkable

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It's an old sailing superstition. A ship moving backwards at the start of a voyage means that disaster will come. But Renee Harris was a theater manager, not a sailor, and so when the ship she had recently boarded began reversing in the harbor, she thought little of it. She had been standing on the deck, looking down at the cheering crowd who had gathered below to see the voyage off.

I can only imagine her excitement, the sea wind in her hair, an adventure ahead of her, and finally the giant engine that had just roared to life. Huge propellers turned, roiling the water in the harbor. As they spun, the suction became so fierce that a nearby ship snapped loose from its mooring, which is when, to avoid collision,

the ocean liner reversed its engines and floated backward, while tugboats corraled the runaway ship. Catastrophe averted, a bit of a hiccup, but overall pretty lucky, right? Rene sure thought so. Until that is, she overheard a man beside her grumbling about the reversal's ill omen. Suddenly he turned to her and posed a grave question. Do you love life? the man said.

Renee replied in the affirmative. Then get off the ship at Scherburg, he continued. If we get that far, that's what I'm going to do. Now, Renee Harris would end up ignoring that stranger's advice, but those cautionary words would haunt her for the rest of her days. If only she had listened, she would later lament, if only she had gotten off the ship when she had the chance.

But that's the thing about history, isn't it? We can't change it, no matter how much we wish we could. And so Renee stayed on that voyage. And up until one fateful night in April, she enjoyed every moment of her luxurious voyage. Aboard the ship known as the RMS Titanic. I'm Aaron Mankey, and this is Lore. Let's begin our journey today with a little word association game. When I say Titanic, what word first springs to mind?

Maybe it's Iceberg, that nemesis that took the grand ship down on the night of April 14th, 1912, and 1,500 of its 2,200 passengers along with it. Or maybe your brain just starts playing, My Heart Will Go On, like some sort of cursed jukebox. But for those of you who answered, unsyncable, you're not alone.

We all know the story, right? That classic tale of hubris in which the makers of the world's largest, most opulent ocean liner foolishly boasted of its unsinkability, only for the thing to sink spectacularly during its very first voyage. It honestly sounds like something straight out of a Greek myth. Except here's the thing. The real myth in all of that? It's in the tale itself. Because despite modern lore, the Titanic was never, not even once, advertised by its builders as unsinkable.

One sailing magazine hedged its bets by calling it practically unsinkable, but that whole rumor about the ship's creators tempting the gods with their hubris. Yeah, that never actually happened. In fact, authorities really only started throwing that word around when the ship did begin to sink, in an attempt to calm down the passengers. And yet that certainly didn't keep the public from assuming that the Titanic was invincible.

After all, at the equivalent of eleven stories tall and four city blocks long, it was the largest object ever to have moved on water. Built in Belfast for the White Star line, the RMS Titanic set sail on her maiden voyage from Southampton, England. to New York on April tenth of nineteen twelve. And let me tell you, this thing was magnificent.

Just imagine it. A first class complete with Turkish baths and a grand ballroom. A second class with a library and dining saloon. Even the third class had private cabins, electricity, running water, and a smoking room. This thing was essentially a floating city. Hard to imagine something like that simply vanishing beneath the waves.

Except, well, it seems that certain people did imagine it, because multiple works of literature appear to have predicted the Titanic sinking years before it occurred. Take the novella Futility by author Morgan Robertson. The book follows an unsinkable ship named I Kid You Not the Titan. Was, and I quote, the largest vessel afloat, carrying the minimum number of lifeboats required under the current regulations and able to travel as swiftly as any ship in service.

And then one April night in the book, the Titan hits an iceberg, killing the majority of its 3,000 passengers. It sounds pretty dang familiar, right? But here's the thing. Futility was published in eighteen ninety eight, a full fourteen years before the famous wreck. Oh, and there's one short story called How the Mail Steamer Went Down in Mid-Atlantic by a Survivor. Not the catchiest title I know, but bear with me here. It was published in 1886.

Yes, twenty six years before that awful night to remember, the story concerns an unnamed ocean liner in the Atlantic, which, Surprise, surprise, experiences a collision. Like the Titanic, it too fails to have enough lifeboats on board for its passengers. Chaos ensues, people drown, and at the end of it all, the author addresses the reader directly with a dire note. He writes, This is exactly what might take place and what will take place if the liners are sent to sea short of boats.

If only people had read Futility as a warning, if only they'd read the mail steamer story and realized that the writing was on the wall, or rather the page, you get the idea. If only people had realized what was to come, maybe those 1,500 lives could have been saved, right?

And you might think so, but the truth is plenty of passengers had a horrible feeling of doom before they ever boarded that ship. And while it might not have averted the disaster as a whole, if the stories from history are true, That inkling was just enough for some to save them. It was hard to ignore. Businessman Jay Conan Middleton had just purchased passage on the doomed ship when he dreamt of its sinking not once but two nights in a row. As he later recalled,

I booked a cabin on the Titanic on March 23rd. I felt unaccountably depressed at the time, and on April 3rd I dreamt that I saw the Titanic. capsized in mid-ocean and a lot of the passengers struggling in the water. The following night, I dreamt exactly the same dream.

And although thoroughly freaked out by this, he kept on packing until his business contacts in America cabled to tell him that it was fine if he wanted to arrive a few days later. With immense relief, Middleton cancelled his tickets the first chance he got. Only later, when the news of the wreck hit the newsstands across the world, did he realize that those dreams had not only come true, but saved his life.

And then there's the story of Esther Hart. When she boarded the Titanic with her husband and seven-year-old daughter, she was very much not looking forward to the trip. Although not a typically nervous person, she felt a sense of impending disaster ever since they had first bought their tickets. It didn't help that her husband tried to assure her that the ship was an I quote unsinkable, which Esther spat back was, and I quote, flying in the face of God.

During the voyage, she got well, a little weird to be honest. Convinced this impending disaster that she had predicted would occur after dark, she insisted on staying up all night and sleeping during the day, even as the rest of her family proceeded as normal. It seemed a very unnatural thing to me, her daughter Eva, would later recall of her mother's odd sleep schedule, and I think also I was a bit apprehensive because I sensed her fear.

And it turns out that unnatural thing paid off. Because when the Titanic hit an iceberg at 11:40 p.m. on April 14th, Esther was wide awake, allowing her to rush her family to the upper deck. And get herself and her daughter into a lifeboat just in time. Tragically, her husband was forced to stay behind and went down with the ship. Now, according to legend, even the Titanic's cat, a cat named Jenny, sensed ill luck was brewing and jumped ship before it headed across the Atlantic.

A loyal part of the crew through the whole preparation process. Jenny had just given birth to kittens in a cozy corner. But shortly before the ship set sail, she was seen hastily carrying her bundles of joy one by one down the gangplank. And for one crew member named Joe Mulholland, That was all the warning he needed. That settled it, he later recalled. I went and got my bag, and that's the last I saw of the Titanic.

Now look, I will admit, while these could be genuine examples of ill omens and precognition, There are oodles of other explanations as well. A transatlantic voyage is a big deal. I'm sure most of the 2200 passengers were feeling some sort of anxiety around the voyage. Heck, plenty of people on carnival cruises today probably dream of their ship sinking too, but no one bothers to mention those instances. But when the ship actually does sink,

Well now those dreams seem noteworthy, don't they? In short, confirmation bias. Plus, hey, I had a crazy dream and it saved me from dying on the Titanic makes for some pretty good cocktail party chit-chat, doesn't it? But alas, not everyone who predicted the sinking would live to tell the tale.

Spring of nineteen twelve was an awkward time for Major Archibald But, not only because his name was Major But, I'm sorry, it had to be acknowledged, but the real reason for Major But's discomfort was the fact that his former employer, Theodore Roosevelt,

was challenging his current employer, President Taft, in the upcoming election. None too pleased to be caught in the middle of that, Archibald decided to avoid the drama altogether by going on a European vacation with his very likely boyfriend Frank Millet.

At first it seemed like a good idea, too, but as the date of departure grew closer, a strange sensation came over Archibald. He started telling friends that he and I quote here, never had such a peculiar and constant feeling of impending trouble, and that he had the strangest feeling he had ever had in his life, that he was to be at the center of some awful calamity. In a state of increasing panic, he tried to get

to cancel his reservation to go abroad. But loyal friend President Taft wouldn't have it, assuring his colleague that he deserved the break. Despite this, Archibald only grew more frantic. Before leaving he insisted on drawing up a will, and even told the Secret Serviceman who he asked to witness it that he had an and I quote unaccountable feeling that he would encounter some terrible danger before he returned.

But even though he felt all of this anxiety, he still went, and I can imagine his partner Frank trying to comfort him during their six weeks of travel, assuring him that it was just lingering work stress. and when time came for their vacation to end and for the duo to aboard the voyage home, Archibald had probably almost managed to convince himself of the same, right up until the moment their ship struck an iceberg.

And I think you know the rest. The Major and his lover both perished on the Titanic's sinking. Archibald's body was never recovered. Yes, countless bad omens and premonitions seemed to precipitate the Titanic's dreadful fate. And by 2:20 a.m. on the morning of April 15th, when the grand vessel finally slipped beneath the waves, While those missives from beyond the veil didn't go down with the ship. Instead, they only grew louder.

Colonel Gracie had spent his time on the Titanic in style. As a member of an old money family, Archibald Gracie IV, and yes, that's another Archibald for our tale, was sitting pretty in first class. He was returning home to America after a solo trip in Europe and was eager to get back to his wife and daughter. But in the meantime, he may as well enjoy himself.

And for those who are curious, for Gracie enjoying himself meant reciting endless fun facts about his absolute favorite thing ever, the Civil Wars Battle of Chickamauga, to anyone who would listen. Truly a man after, well, someone's heart. As a fifty-four year old married fellow with a fine reputation, he also spent a good deal of his time serving as a chaperone to unaccompanied women in first class, as well as poring over books in the ship's library.

But at 1140 p.m. on the night of April 14th, he was doing none of these things. No, in the moment of collision, Gracie was fast asleep before being awakened with a jolt. The ship's engines, he realized, had stopped.

Everything moved quickly from there. Throwing on his coat, he found himself on the upper deck where the ship had begun to lilt. Moving fast, Gracie returned below to rouse the women that he had been chaperoning and help them to safety, Lifeboats after lifeboat descended into the water and determined to save as many women as possible, Gracie did what he could to assist.

At last the final lifeboat dropped, and there Colonel Gracie remained, standing on the boat deck as the ship sunk into the water and sucked him down with it. I was in a whirlpool of water, he would later write, swirling round and round as I still tried to cling to the railing as the ship plunged to the depths below. Down, down I went. It seemed a great distance.

And although the water was cold enough to kill him, all he could think of was the steam that must be screeching from the ship's boilers. What if, he feared, they exploded and he was scalded to death? He'd heard of such things happening on other shipwrecks, men boiled dead like lobsters in a pot. Desperate Gracie swam to the surface, but the water was so heavy and the sky so far above. He felt his endurance flagging. He could hold his breath no longer.

Yes, this is it, he realized. The moment that he would die, he would never see his family again. I wanted to convey the news of how I died to my loved ones at home, Gracie wrote. As I swam beneath the surface of the ocean, I prayed that my spirit could go to them and say, Goodbye until we meet again in heaven.

Suddenly, he recalled a story that he'd heard from his wife's family. In it, one of their loved ones had, like himself, been swept up in a shipwreck and had been able to communicate telepathically to a family member on land. If it worked for them, why not for him? And why not now? I thought if I prayed hard enough that this, my last wish to communicate with my wife and daughter, might be granted. And so Gracie shut his eyes, held his breath, and prayed harder.

Meanwhile, at her sister's house in New York, Gracie's wife Constance couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned, unable to understand why she couldn't nod off quickly like she usually did. Eventually, she was so frustrated that she said out loud in the dark, What's the matter? Which is when a voice spoke back, ushering a clear command On your knees and pray,

In Constance's own word, and I quote, instantly I literally obeyed with my prayer book in my hand, which by chance opened to the prayer for those at sea. The thought then flashed through my mind, Archie is praying for me. Back in the foaming water around the Titanic, Colonel Gracie was filled with a surge of new energy. He swam madly toward the surface, and then he broke through.

When news of the wreck reached America the next day, some part of Constance already knew what had happened, but what she didn't know was whether or not her husband was alive. As she would later write to her daughter, Cannot you see your father in his tenderness for women and children, helping them all, and then going down with a ship? If he is gone, I will not live long.

Now, as you may have gathered, Colonel Archibald Gracie did survive that night. But like a horror movie, with a monster returning just when you think you're safe, the Titanic would get him soon enough. Between hypothermia and injuries sustained in the wreck, his health would never recover. Colonel Gracie died in December of nineteen twelve, and in his last moments his spirits must have found itself right back in that water again, desperately trying to save all he could. For his final words were,

We must get them into the boats. We must get them all into the boats.

The ocean is a ravenous monster. It swells and spits, twists and growls. It can gulp down thousands of lives in a single moment and erase whole cities. From the earth. And despite living alongside this abyss since the earliest days of humanity, we have never learned to control it. And if there's one thing the human mind hates, it is a lack of control.

And so when the Unsinkable became the Unthinkable, and fifteen hundred souls were stolen by the Atlantic, people were desperate to reclaim whatever control they could, Rumors of omens abounded. People read every coincidence as a sign. Dreams were recalled and dusted off, and even the accident itself was attributed to supernatural interference. After all, the only thing more terrifying than the ship being fated to sink would be the idea that things like this simply happen for no reason at all.

But of course, there are plenty of non-paranormal factors that led to the Titanic's demise. For one, the ship's trials were done hastily and it was never tested at full speed. Not only that, but the captain, Edward Smith, wasn't used to maneuvering such a large ship, given that there, you know, weren't other large ships like that at the time. And then a moonless, windless night made the iceberg hard to spot. Honestly, the list goes on and on.

At the end of the day, whether hashing out mechanical details or begging spirits for answers, we all land in the same place, unable to rewrite the sorrows of history. Oh, and speaking of writing, remember that prophetic short story I mentioned earlier in this episode? How the mail steamer went down in mid-Atlantic by a survivor? It was written by a prominent writer and spiritualist named W.T. Stead, who we've actually mentioned on this show before.

As a highly influential journalist, he reported on child welfare and social issues in his pioneering investigative work. But as a spiritualist, Well, things got a little bit more woo-hoo. He was a big fan of things like automatic writing, seances, and telepathy, and even founded a quarterly called Borderland, dedicated to publishing psychical research.

And look, it's weird enough that a known spiritualist happened to write a short story magically predicting the most high-profile shipwreck in history. But it gets even weirder when you learn how W.T. Stead He drowned, you see, as a doomed passenger on the RMS Titanic.

I hope you've enjoyed floating through today's collection of stories about everyone's favorite shipwreck. It's incredible just how long the Titanic has managed to travel through popular culture, and the legends about it have proven to be more unsyncable than the ship itself. But don't stop clinging to the wreckage just yet, because I have one last story for you that might just make you question everything. Stick around through this brief sponsor break to hear all about it.

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Everyone loves a good conspiracy theory from time to time. Roswell, the moon landing, the Avril Levine Melissa Doppelganger switch. You get the idea. And if you're looking to distract your flat earther uncle at the next family dinner with a shiny new conspiracy, let me tell ya, the Titanic has garnered more than her fair share. There is, of course, the theory that JP Morgan arranged for the ship sinking to kill off his business rivals, many of whom happened to be on board.

Despite the claim falling apart when one asks how Morgan could have possibly arranged for the ship to conveniently hit a random iceberg that no one knew was there in the first place. And then there's the fringe theory that the ship was torpedoed by a German U boat, although to believe in that one you'd have to ignore the fact that World War One had yet to begin.

Others still believe that the Titanic never sank at all. No, she had been secretly switched out with her sister ship the Olympic, and it was the Olympic who sank that night instead. According to this conspiracy, the swap and sink was done as an insurance scheme. The Olympic had been damaged in a collision, that part's actually true, of course, but it was suspected that the cost to repair her would have been more expensive than just sinking her for insurance money.

Which, sure, is a thing that maybe people do sometimes. Except for the fact that when you do the math, the amount the Titanic was insured for would not actually have covered the cost of the Olympics loss at all. Add to that the fact that the hull number, 401, that belonged to the Titanic, not the Olympic, has been clearly seen on the underwater wreckage, and this theory takes on water pretty dang quick.

But don't worry, there is one last conspiracy theory that may justify explanation, and it has to do with the Titanic's captain, Edward Smith. It's a rule of the sea that the captain goes down with his ship. And as far as most historians are concerned, that's exactly what Captain Smith did. But there are some who disagree. Because you see the captain's body was never found.

And sure, that in itself isn't that unusual. Most of the Titanic's victims were never recovered, but oddly, no one seems to be able to agree about what the captain was up to in his final moments. Some claim that he shot himself as the ship sank, others that he merely stayed aboard as it vanished beneath the waves. And others still claim that he dove off just as the ship took its final plunge. Some even report him handing a baby up to a lifeboat before swimming away.

Perhaps he even attempted to go down with the ship, but in the confusion, a lifeboat scooped him out of the water, not even realizing who they had brought on board. It's said that he was then smuggled aboard the Carpathia, hidden in a back room, and ultimately removed from the rescue boats in secret, before starting a new life under a new name.

So why all the secrecy? Well, a captain, as I said before, is supposed to go down with his ship. Had he been known to survive when so many others perished under his care, the man would have been universally despised. And honestly, given the absolute loathing lobbed at Survivor Bruce Ismay, the White Star Line's managing director, I'd probably stay quiet if I was Smith too.

Now all of this is pure conjecture, of course, but in July of nineteen twelve, three months after the wreck of the Titanic, a fellow sea captain and former acquaintance of Smith. swore that he saw his comrade on the streets in Baltimore of all places. And this is where things get a little suspicious, because he didn't just glimpse the guy, He spoke to him. Captain Peter Pryall reported that he marched right up to the man and said, Captain Smith, how are you?

Rather than correcting him or saying something like, You must be mistaking me for someone else, the man replied, Very well, Prayal, but please don't detain me. I am on business. So Pryol followed the supposed Smith to a train station and watched as he bought a ticket to Washington. And then, Pryol reported, Smith turned back as he walked through the station gate and called, Be good, shipmate, until we meet again.

Reporting on this incident, the New York Times insisted that Pryal was, and I quote, perfectly sane, well to do, and a consistent church member. Which leaves us with a mystery, doesn't it? Was Pryol lying or confused? Did Captain Smith indeed escape the Titanic unharmed? Or did Captain Peter Pryol encounter the ghost of an ancient mariner? This episode of Lore was produced by me, Aaron Mankey, with writing by Jenna Rose Nethercott, research by Cassandra D'Alba, and music by Chad Lawson.

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