Two journalists are on board the Carpathia when she steams towards the Titanic on a mission to rescue the sinking ship’s survivors. One journalist, Carlos Hurd, awakens to strange noises on the morning of April 15, 1912, and notes the peculiar position of the light through his porthole. What he discovers, when he comes on deck, is that the Carpathia’s lifeboats are now deeply into the mission of rescuing the Titanic’s survivors. Immediately Carlos recognises the gravity of this story. When he tells the other journalist they can work as a team to record the survivors’ stories, Colin Cooper simply replies that he’s not interested. He is on vacation.
Undeterred, Carlos begins working on a story that he knows is going to rock the world – Carpathia’s vital role in rescuing the survivors. The ship’s captain refuses to let Carlos relay the information back to New York, since the wireless is needed for more urgent business. Working against the ship’s authorities, he enlists his wife to help him interview the survivors. Despite an embargo on paper and writing implements – the captain has recalled them to defeat Carlos’s objectives – he continues to record the story on serviettes or whatever comes to hand. When Carparthia finally approaches New York with the survivors on board, press-commissioned boats jostle alongside, touting for Carlos’s story. He attaches a floatation device to his story and tosses it out towards a press boat, praying his notes won’t fall into the water.
This story is one of many that, like a glossy Babushka doll, is nested within the much larger narrative about Carpathia’s rescue of the Titanic survivors. Some of these gleaming stories seem entirely disconnected with the main story – the discovery, for instance, of a new section of Roman wall at Wallsend; a potted history about World War One, Archduke Franz Ferdinand and the murderous deeds of the Black Hand Serbian secret society; the peculiar rash of Mafiosi graffiti symbols marching across Carpathia’s bulkheads and alleyways; the work of Lieutenant Joseph Petrosino, the first Italian appointed to the New York police department and heading up the Italian Squad, with his mission to cut off the Mafia’s tentacles. But the connections do eventually reveal themselves, and with satisfying results. Weaving in and out of these historical stories are contemporary narratives about the deep-sea dive missions to rescue treasures from the Carpathia and the Titanic, the primacy of the ship’s bell, and enlivening stories about professionals like Richard ‘Ric’ Waring, a diver trapped in a hyperbaric chamber as his ship starts to sink.
As a former sailor and occasional diver, I enjoyed the strong command the author had on her material, all the more impressive since she describes herself as a landlubber. I was also drawn into the fascinating physiological complexities of deep sea diving and the dangers that come with that territory. For the broader readership there’s the opportunity to immerse yourself in the rich details of the unfolding stories, facilitated by a lush prose style. Here is the author’s description of the Titanic survivors as they languish in a saloon of Carpathia, recovering from their ordeal.
“Calf-bound, gilt-edged volumes are sequestered on a low bookcase, atop which sits a glass case containing stones. The wall behind the bookcase is composed of glass tiles that peek out into the alleyway. Amidst all this, reclining on thickly padded easy chairs and lounges dotted about the large room, are women of wealth and refinement. But their usual equanimity is absent. Faces are carved with grief. Bodies brittle...[they are] ragged butterflies and careworn moths, inhabiting some foreign realm.”
Other favourites include the description the author offers in relation to a rover sent down to explore Carpathia’s wreckage:
“The [rover’s] backscatter is like distant stars slipping past, particles streaming through the currents, catching on the rover’s strobe lights. Then the water swirls and the world becomes a grey blizzard, a cloudy mess of silt that unfolds like silk in the wind.”
There are “brass surrounds that gleam like warm brandy in firelight” and landscapes of starshine buzzing through ice pinnacles, and telling anecdotes about social stratification:
“Manchester cops called Manchester firemen ‘water fairies’ because firemen are higher up the hero totem pole than policemen.”
Ludowkye’s Carpathia is not an arrow shot to the heart of the story but a series of concentric circles radiating outward, the author’s keen eye conducting the full three hundred and sixty degree sweep of the dramas that occurred before, during and after that central fateful day in 1912 when the Titanic sunk. I would strongly recommend this book to anyone with an interest in nautical and general history of that period, to any Titanic tragic, to the diving community, and to any writers looking for fine examples of beautifully written creative nonfiction.
Highly recommended.