JACK
It was April 10, 1912.
"Darling, must you go?" Lucy said between tears.
"Lucy, dear, it's my job! I have to go." I hugged her tightly.
"How long will you be gone, Harold?" she inquired.
"How many times have we gone over this? My God, Lucy, it will only be a fortnight." I replied.
"Two weeks!! Two entire weeks without you?! Oh, Harold…"
"Crew! Calling all crew…" one of the officers called from the gangway.
"Goodbye, Lucy. I love you." I kissed her and started to walk away.
"Ditto!" she cried.
I looked behind me and saw her waving with her handkerchief. I looked in front of me and saw the great ocean liner, the RMS Titanic.
I found the Marconi room. It was a small area and there wasn't much decoration. In the back of the first room was a mahogany desk with two wooden swivel chairs, a clock, lots of pads of Marconi telegram paper, and, of course, the whole reason I was here, the infamous telegraph of which I would become quite familiar with. On the left side was a door leading into a room with a bunk bed, a small mirror, a small bureau, and an even smaller shower. I set my bags on the bottom bunk and put my hat on the top of the bureau. I looked in the mirror and smiled. My only prior experience in professional Telegraphy was last year on the Cunard liner, the Lusitania. I was so excited to be an employee on the largest moving object in the world.
"'ello there, mate!"
I whirled around to stare into the face of a stranger.
"Hello to you, too," I managed.
"I'm John George Phillips. I'm guessing you're Harold Bride?"
"Yes. Are you the Senior Wireless Operator, Mr. Phillips?"
"Yup. And, please, call me Jack."
"All right, Jack."
"I don't see why I'm the senior operator. I mean, how old are you?"
"Twenty-two," I laughed.
"Well, I'm only twenty-four, and it makes me feel awfully old being the 'senior' operator!" Jack smiled.
"I know what you mean…"
"This is the best birthday present ever. I'm working on the Titanic, and I'm not even thirty yet, let alone twenty-five! I hear they give a pretty hefty pay check, White Star Line." Jack sat next to me on the bed.
"Today's your birthday?" I asked.
"If it's April 10th it is!"
"Oh, then, Happy Birthday, Jack! You're lucky, my birthday's not until January…"
"Ha, yeah. Say, do you know what we're supposed to be doing?" Jack inquired.
" I don't know, sending telegrams?" I smiled.
"Good one, Harry! Can I call you that?"
"Sure, no one else does."
Around noon, the Titanic set sail. This was the beginning of Jack and my friendship and our acquaintance with the telegraph. We spent about 5 hours in shifts, sending and receiving messages. At 6:00 we ate a quick dinner, and then Jack began using the telegraph again. I quietly snuck out of the room and slyly found my way to the first class dining salon, hoping to find anything dessert-like. After about 15 minutes of silent waiting, I grabbed a good medium-sized tray of pastries and cautiously found my way back to the Marconi room.
"Happy Birthday, Jack!" I clanged the tray beside him on the desk, pleased.
"Well, well, well, Harry, what have we here…?" He finished sending the message and set the earphones down, "Oh my, look at this! Where did you get this, first class?"
"Mm hmm." I managed between bites of a chocolate covered strawberry.
"Wow. Well, let's not let this go to waste…" Jack studied the tray and took a cookie with orange jelly on top.
We spent the rest of the night talking between messages of life back home and such. Before I knew it my shift ended at 11:30 (at night) and I could finally get some sleep. I said good-night to Jack and went to the "bedroom".
"What? Hey! Bloody 'ell, work, man, work! Oh…crap. Harry!" I woke up to that and Jack Phillips standing in the doorway. I noticed that the sky was still black.
"Huh? What happened?"
"The telegraph broke." Jack said plainly.
"It…broke." That was all I could say.
"Yes."
"That's…bad."
"No kidding! Well c'mon then, let's work on it!"
We stayed up until 5 a.m. fixing that machine. Five a.m…
After the telegraph incident of the early morning of April 11th, the next two and a half days went smoothly. Of course there were a ton of messages to catch up to since the telegraph broke, but that was pretty much our only obstacle. The trouble started at 11:30 at night on April 14th…
Jack had received many messages about iceberg warnings. And by many, I mean almost more than he could count. He was corresponding with Cape Race in Newfoundland when a ship nearby, the Californian, cut him off. He had rudely replied back to them telling them that he was busy and to, quite frankly, to use his exact words, 'shut up'. The Californian's operator shut off his set for the night. Jack and I had been happily sending messages for about forty minutes when the captain came in:
"We've struck an iceberg, boys. Please send out the distress call."
Jack and I just stared at him blankly for a moment.
"My God…" I whispered.
"Yes, sir," Jack said gravely, and started tapping out the distress call, "C-Q-D… C-Q-D… C-Q-D…"
CQ means to stop transmitting and listen. D means distress.
Jack had been transmitting for about 15 minutes when I came up with a historical important decision:
"Jack, why don't we use the new distress call, SOS. Hey, it may be our last chance to use it," I smiled faintly.
Jack nodded and tapped out … --- …, the first SOS. Ever.
The clock read 1:50 when I next looked at it. I had already felt the tilt of the ship as she was sinking.
"Jack, come on now, we must get into a lifeboat."
"No, wait. Hey!" he quickly wrote something on a piece of telegraph paper, "Give this to the captain, Harold."
That was the first time he called me Harold. I quickly glanced at him and ran to the bridge. I read the note, out of curiosity. It said that the Carpathia would be here to rescue us in a few hours. I hoped Titanic would last that long. After I gave the message to the captain, I ran back to the Marconi room, pausing at the door.
The lifeboats were a dreadful sight. I saw Mrs. Astor catching the gloves of her millionaire husband, J.J, as they waved good-bye to each other. I saw third-class families crying as they saw their brothers, husbands, and sons left there on the deck of Titanic, just simply waving. I couldn't take it anymore. Jack is too good of a friend to just wave good-bye to.
I slammed open the door, ran into our room and grabbed our lifejackets. I put mine on quickly.
"Jack, stop. This is ridiculous. You must stop. Jack, please!"
He ignored me.
"John," I said.
He looked at me.
"I'm not leaving, Harry. It's my duty to use the telegraph. Find a lifeboat. I'll be with you."
"Jack Phillips, you are to shut off that machine and come with me," I said angrily.
"Fine, just give me fifteen more minutes."
"Jack, please hurry up."
I opened the door for the last time and took a long look back at Jack. His hat was cast aside. His lifejacket hung loosely, untied. His black hair was falling over his hand that was holding his head up. Even though I only knew this man for four days, I felt a closeness with him, almost like he was my brother. However, I had to leave. I hoped he would find a lifeboat.
That was that last time I saw him.
I found a spot on Collapsible B, one of the last boats to be launched. I have never felt anything so cold. It wasn't ice; it was like, beyond ice. Freezing, cutting, terrible pain. A man near me was sitting on a space where I could put my legs, which were hanging over the side of the boat in the freezing water. I didn't have the heart to tell him to move.
The Carpathia picked us up at early morning on April 15th. I could barely walk because my legs had been frostbitten, and was confined to a wheelchair onboard the ship. After loads of coffee, I agreed to help the Carpathia's wireless officer with the transmitting of the names of the people who died.
"Hello, Mr. Bride. Let's begin sending, shall we. Read the first name please," said the wireless officer, looking at me.
I stared at him teary-eyed. I read the names on the list and they were all just empty words to me. I thought of my friend and suddenly there was his name in the crew section. Crying, I read, "John George 'Jack' Phillips, Senior Wireless Operator, Marconi Telegraph Company, RMS Titanic."