History

I came across this in my history book, and thought it very good, just thought i'd share it with ya'll :)

The Bible teaches that the center focus of God's plan in history is the cross of Christ, all events are moving, not in an endless cycle but in a linear direction from creation to culmination.
Herman Bavinck writes:

...Furthermore, revelation gives us a division of history. There is no history without division of time, without periods, without progress and development.

But now take Christ away.

The thing is impossible, history falls to pieces, for he has lived and died, has risen from the dead, and lives to all eternity;
and these facts cannot be eliminated,- they belong to history, they are the heart of history.

But think Christ away for a moment, with all that he has spoken and done and wrought.

Immediately history falls to pieces.

It has lost its heart, its kernel, and its center, its distribution.
It loses itself in a history of races and nations, of nature and culture-peoples. It becomes chaos, without a center, and therefore without a circumference;
without distribution, and therefore without beginning and end; without principle and goal; a stream rolling down from the mountains, nothing more.

But revelation teaches that as God is Lord of the ages, Christ is the turning point of these ages. And thus it brings into history unity and plan, progress and aim.

This aim is not this or that special idea, not the idea of freedom, or of humanity, or of matierial well-being. But it is the fullness of the Kingdom of God, that all-sided, all-containing dominion of God, which embraces heaven and earth, angels, and men, mind and matter, culus and culture, the specific and the generic;

in a word, all and all.

Robertha Josephine "Bertha" Watt

I decided to post a small saga about Bertha (to bad she didn't have a better name!), this is just a small explaination about her

Miss Robertha Josephine Watt, 12, was born in Aberdeen, Scotland, on 11 September 1899, and was with her mother Bessie Watt on Titanic bound for Portland, Oregon where they were to join her architect father.

They were originally booked on the New York, but because of the coal strike were transferred to the Titanic.

Aboard the ship Bertha befriended an English girl, Marjorie Collyer.

They were rescued in lifeboat 9.

Twelve years old at the time, her most vivid memory was that she was roused from her sleep, and told to say her prayers because the Titanic was in trouble. She wrote about the experience as a student in 1917 for the Jefferson High School newspaper in which she claimed:

To be continued someday...hee, hee, hee!

The Lusitania

The Lusitania was another large ship like the Titanic, and was actually one of the reasons the Titanic was built. The Lusitania and her sister ship were the two biggest and most luxurious ships before the Titanic and her sisters came along. They (the Titanic and the Lusitania) were from two rival ship lines. The Lusitania was very beautiful (But not nearly as much as the Titanic!) but she was sunk by a German submarine’s torpedo on May 7, 1915 a little off the coast of Ireland. This action helped get America into World War I for there were many Americans on board her when she sank. She sank 18 minutes after she was hit, and those 18 minutes were filled with chaos as the 1257 plus people on board tried to get off her, but because the Lusitania was listing to the starboard (right) side so badly, and because she was still moving forward as she sank, it made even the lifeboats unsafe. Because of the angle of the list, the only boats that could be launched were the ones on the starboard side. But even then, they were constantly flipping over, spilling their passengers into the water, then another lifeboat would start to descend, and the lines would break, the lifeboat falling and crushing the occupants of the lifeboat before her. Only a few actually made it safely. The people in the water thought that the Lusitania would flip over onto her side, crushing them. They could look up and see her leaning precariously to her starboard side right above them. The power failed, trapping men and women in the electric elevators. The deck was crowded with people, as it tilted farther and farther, noise was everywhere, screams and shouts of passengers, the noise of wood and metal scraping as the lifeboats were lowered, the calls of the officers, and the cries of babies. People were slipping and sliding along the deck. The ship was filled with passengers, and had a lot of babies and young children on board.
Some mothers tried to give their children to strangers, hoping they could save them. Florence Padley was on the deck when one lady asked her to take her baby, but she couldn’t, because she didn’t have a life jacket. Norah Bretherton grabbed her baby from her play pen, and then asked a man who had frequently played with her young son, Paul, to run down to the cabin and get him. He looked right through her. In desperation she forced the baby into a stranger's arms and ran down and grabbed her son. As she made her way up the crowded stairs, she was horrified by the callousness of fellow passengers, not one man offered to help her in her struggle up the sloping stairs, and she saw one lady with a little baby fall and slide down along the deck, and no one bothered to help her. It was every man for himself. Paul Crompton and his wife were trying desperately to gather up their six children ranging from age five months to fourteen. Anne Williams was in a similar plight with her own six children. Parents ran frantically around the boat searching for lost children, while children screamed for their parents. Baby carriages rolled wildly along the tilting deck, some empty, others not. One man remarked that all he saw in the water were “Children-children were everywhere.” One lady had just laid her eight month old daughter down for a nap when the torpedo hit. She ran back to her cabin, and grabbed the baby. As she started to leave, she remembered her next door neighbor had an eighteen month toddler who was asleep in the cabin right next to her, she could see no sign of the mother, and could not bear to have him stay there. But he was a big child and she could not carry both her baby and the toddler. She had to leave him behind. His little face would haunt her the rest of her life. Many people lost their children; Mabel Henshaw clutched her baby Constance as she jumped into the water, but they both were sucked down, and the force of the water tore Constance from her arms. When Mabel came back to the surface, Constance was gone. Charlotte Pye also jumped in with her baby, Marjorie. “My baby gave a terrible scream and we both sank. When I came up the baby was gone and I was dragged down a second time.” When she came up again, all she could see where dead bodies “and those that were living were screaming and shouting, wanting to be saved.” Charlotte was picked up by a lifeboat, she could do nothing but sit there “Crying and wanting my baby” knowing she would never see her again. The child had met “such a terrible end” and she tormented herself that “she could have taken better care of her” Her will to live was gone. Another woman worked hard to keep her three young children afloat. By the time a lifeboat came to help her, two were already dead. Her third child died moments later. She had to leave them floating in the sea. One woman was in the water with her baby for two hours, and just as some other survivors helped her onto a raft, the baby girl closed its tiny eyes in her arms and died, She had to leave the baby behind in the water. Soren Sorenson (weird name!) watched a mother valiantly try to save her baby by putting it on some wreckage, but it died, and she had to let it go, the little bundle drifting away. A Canadian, Percy Rogers saw a young child wearing a lifejacket and crying for her mother. He could not reach her and had to watch her die.
An Irish couple, Walter and Nettie Moore were holding on to an overturned lifeboat, Walter was trying to hold their baby son out of the water. But as time passed the baby’s skin turned a dark bruised color and froth appeared at his mouth. They realized he was dead. Walter lost consciousness, he said “I can’t hold on any more, Nettie” and slid into the water, still clasping his baby’s lifeless body.
The whole eighteen minutes of sinking was filled with death, chaos, noise, confusion, and fear. The captain of the submarine that fired the torpedo, Scheigner, wrote in his log: “It would have been impossible for me to fire a second torpedo into this crushing crowd of humanity trying to save their lives.” And we are just thankfully that he didn't. Out of the 1,257 registered passengers, the final toll was 1,198 people dead. There was 129 children on board, 94 were killed, and out of the 39 babies on board, 34 died.

Annie Oakley

Phoebe Ann Oakley Moses was born in Darke County, Ohio in 1860 to Quakers Susan and Jacob Moses. Her family already had a somewhat turbulent past, with her father a veteran of the War of 1812 and her family having to move to Ohio from Pennsylvania due to a fire burning down the family business, a tavern.
Jacob Moses died in 1866 from pneumonia, but not before giving his wife six other children. Annie was the fifth in line and had to deal with her father's death at a young age, as well as her mother remarrying and having another child before losing that husband as well.
Due to financial circumstances the young Annie was placed with a local family for a time where she was abused both physically and mentally, reconciling with her family when her mother married a third time. Multiple marriages were not unheard of at this time, when a single mother had very little chance of survival or being able to care for her children.
The young Annie started hunting at the tender age of nine to try and put food on the table for her family, resulting in her becoming quite the expert shot. Her skills brought attention from the public and she began to compete in local shows. At the age of 16 she went to Cincinnati and defeated Frank Butler, a noted marksman who was working with a visiting sideshow. But in the end it was Butler who won, wooing the young Annie and marrying her the same year; adding her to his travelling sideshow. At this point she took on the stage name "Annie Oakley".
At that time travelling sideshows were big entertainment, giving the people a skewed view of the old west with wild displays and exaggerations of how life was in the old west not only for women but for natives and those seeking their fortunes.
The Buffalo Bill Wild West Show was just one example and Butler joined the show in 1885 with his expert shot wife. Annie was advertised as "Little Miss Sure Shot", supposedly a nickname bestowed on her by the famous Native American Sitting Bull.
Her fame became widespread thanks to her expert shooting skills and the showmanship of Buffalo Bill, allowing her to pull off such stunts as shooting the ashes off a cigar held by no other than Kaiser Wilhelm II of Germany!
Annie Oakley's skills were known around the world, giving her fame and fortune far beyond what a simple girl from Ohio could have ever expected. When she finally passed away on November 3, 1926 she was one of the most famous women of her time, stepping outside of the barriers that restricted women in society. Indeed, the famous musical "Annie Get Your Gun" is loosely based on her experiences! Even after all these years "Miss Little Sure Shot" can still motivate and encourage young girls to look beyond society's boundaries and go further.

TSMS Lakonia, part 2

Here at last I shall finish about the Lakonia.

...Many of the passengers who had been asleep in their cabins found themselves unable to escape the fire. Some passengers were told to go to the main dining room to await instructions, but most ignored this order, since the dining room lay directly in the path of the fire. At 11:30 p.m., the ship's chief radio officer Antonios Kalogridis sent out the first distress call: "Fire spreading up. Prepare evacuation on ship." At midnight, a second distress call was sent out: "We are leaving the ship. Please immediately give us assistance. Please help us." Kalogridis sent out the last call at 12:22 a.m., just before the wireless room caught fire: "SOS from Lakonia, last time. I cannot stay anymore in the wireless station. We are leaving the ship. Please immediate assistance. Please help." A six-man fire crew attempted to fight the blaze, but the fire spread too quickly to be contained. The pressure boilers began to explode, filling the rooms and hallways with thick, black smoke, and the suffocating passengers were forced on deck. The ship's purser gave the order to abandon ship shortly before 1:00 a.m. Dazed passengers made their way to the lifeboats, some in their pajamas and others still wearing their jewels and eveningwear. A few crew members went below decks to try to save passengers from their burning cabins. The ship's swimming pool attendant and a steward lowered themselves over the side of the ship by rope to pull trapped people from portholes. Evacuation of the ship was extremely difficult. Some lifeboats burned before they could be lowered. Two of the lifeboats were swamped, spilling their occupants into the sea; one when it was lowered only by one end, and the other when its davits broke off. Chains had rusted in many of the davits, making boats difficult or impossible to move. In the end, just over half of the lifeboats made it safely away from the Lakonia, some of them less than half full. Several people who dove overboard struck the side of the ship on the way down, killing them before they hit the water. Passengers were angered when the wireless operator left the ship in a launch with a nurse and two musicians. Kalogridis later testified that he had left to rescue people from the water. He did not return to the ship because the current pushed the launch away, he explained. Passengers also claimed that some of the crewmen took advantage of the chaos to loot staterooms. When all of the boats were away, there were still people adrift in the water and over 100 people left on board the burning ship. The Lakonia continued to burn fiercely and was rocked by violent explosions. Those who remained on board flocked to the glass-enclosed Agora Shopping Center at the stern of the ship. After several hours, the flames closed in on them, and they were forced to descend ropes and rope ladders into the ocean. The port and starboard gangways were lowered as well, and people walked down the gangways single file into the sea. At 3:30 a.m., four hours after the first distress call, the 492-foot Argentinean passenger ship Salta arrived on the scene. The Salta, under the command of Captain José Barrere, had been on its way from Genoa, Italy to Buenos Aires. The 440-foot British tanker Montcalm arrived half an hour later at 4:00 a.m. The majority of the survivors were saved by these two ships. The Salta rescued 475 people and took aboard most of Lakonia's lifeboats. In the hours that followed, the Belgian ship Charlesville, the Brazilian freighter Rio Grande, the British passenger ship Stratheden and the Panamanian freighter Mehdi all arrived to take part in the rescue. Each of the rescue vessels dispatched boats to pluck survivors from the water. Also, four United States Air Force C-54 rescue planes were sent from the Lajes Air Base in the Azores. The planes dropped flares, lifejackets, life rafts and survival kits to people in the water. Rescue efforts were hindered by the fact that the Lakonia drifted for several miles during the evacuation. People in the water were dispersed over a 2 – 3 mile area. Also, rescue ships were reluctant to get too near the Lakonia; there was a constant risk that the ship's 500 tons of fuel oil would explode. A lifeboat was dispatched from the Charlesville shortly after daybreak to rescue Captain Zarbis, who was spotted pacing the decks of the still-burning ship. Zarbis was the last person to leave the Lakonia alive. Most of the survivors were transported to Madeira, while others, including Captain Zarbis, were taken to Casablanca. A total of 128 people died in the Lakonia disaster, of which 95 were passengers and 33 were crew members. Only 53 people were killed in the actual fire. The rest died from exposure, drowning and injuries sustained while diving overboard. Crewmen from the British aircraft carrier HMS Centaur were able to board the Lakonia on December 24, once the flames had died down. Most of the bodies were recovered by the crew of the Centaur. By this time, the Lakonia was a charred, smoking hulk. Her superstructure had partially collapsed amidships, and the bridge and aft decks had caved in. There were holes blasted near the bow, and the ship was listing 10 degrees to starboard. The Norwegian tugboat Herkules attached a tow line to the Lakonia at 5:30 p.m. on December 24. The Herkules, along with the Portuguese tugboat Praia da Adraga and two other tugs, set off for the British base at Gibraltar with the Lakonia in tow. Her list grew more severe each day, and at about 2:00 p.m. on December 29, the Lakonia rolled over onto her starboard side. She sank stern-first in only three minutes. The ship went down 230 miles southwest of Lisbon, Portugal and 250 miles west of Gibraltar.

TSMS Lakonia, part 1

As many of you know, I love all ships (well, at least all passenger liners. No war ships for me!), so here is another bit about one of my many favorites. Though it was not that long ago, I still find it absolutely fascinating, and just so you don't get totally confused, the Lakonia was previously the Johan von Oldenbarnevelt.

The Johan van Oldenbarnevelt was refitted again in 1958 at a cost of AU$800,000. The refitting was carried out by the Amsterdam Dry Dock Company and took three months to complete. Accommodation was reduced to 1,210 passengers. Three luxury suites were added, as well as a nightclub, cinema, gift shop, promenade lounge and second swimming pool. All public rooms were refinished and restored. The main mast was relocated to atop the bridge, and the decks were extended aft. Her funnels were heightened, given rounded tops and painted yellow and black. Her black hull was re-painted gray.
The ship was assigned to her new port, Southampton, England, on April 2, 1959. She offered round-the-world service, making stops in Australia, New Zealand, Bermuda and New York City. She was now marketed as a cruise ship, instead of a passenger liner.
The Johan van Oldenbarnevelt left on her last round-the-world voyage for the Netherland Line on June 30, 1962. She arrived in Sydney, Australia on February 3, 1963 and was decommissioned by the Netherland Line that day, ending a 33-year career for that shipping line. She then sailed for Genoa, Italy, and arrived on March 7, 1963.
On March 8, 1963, the Johan van Oldenbarnevelt was sold to the General Steam Navigation Company. Her decks and public rooms were re-named and the aft swimming pool was enlarged. Twelve additional cabins were built, and air conditioning was installed throughout the ship. Her hull was painted white, and her weight grew to 20,314 tons. Most importantly, the ship's name was changed to TSMS Lakonia.

The ship was operated by the Ormos Shipping Company (also known as the Greek Line) and offered service from Southampton to the Canary Islands. She departed Southampton on her first voyage as Lakonia on April 24, 1963. She proved immensely popular, and the Greek Line planned 27 cruises for 1964. From December 9 to December 13, 1963, she underwent another minor upgrade. A new pneumatic fuel injection system was installed. Cabins were redecorated, and the kitchen and pantry were completely remodeled.
The Lakonia was outfitted with a number of safety features. She carried 24 lifeboats capable of holding 1,455 people. The ship had an automatic fire alarm system and two fire stations with specialized firefighting equipment. There were lifejackets for every person on board and an extra 400 stowed on deck.
In addition to Lakonia, the Greek Line also operated the larger Arkadia and Olympia.

The Lakonia departed Southampton on December 19, 1963 for an 11-day "Christmas Cruise" of the Canary Islands. Her first scheduled stop was to be the island of Madeira. There were 646 passengers and 376 crewmen on board: a total of 1,022 people. All but 21 of the passengers were British citizens, and the crew members were mostly Greek and German. The captain of the Lakonia was 53-year-old Mathios Zarbis.
The crew had conducted a boat drill a week before, and the ship passed a safety inspection by the British Ministry of Transport 24 hours prior to sailing. The ship carried a Greek certificate of seaworthiness. Passengers participated in a boat drill on December 20.
The first three days of the cruise were uneventful. Passengers played shuffleboard and deck tennis by day and enjoyed banquets and dances by night. The cruise brochure promised "absolute freedom from worry and responsibility."
At around 11:00 p.m. on December 22, a steward noticed thick smoke seeping under the door of the ship's hairdressing salon. Upon opening the door, he found the room completely ablaze, and the fire rushed into the hallway toward the staterooms. He and another steward attempted to fight the flames with fire extinguishers, but the fire was spreading too fast to be contained. One of the men ran to notify the ship's purser, Antonio Bogetti.
Fire alarms sounded, but too softly to be heard by most passengers. "The fire alarm bell was so weak that it sounded like someone calling the waiter to ask for tea," one survivor later told reporters. An alarm went off on the bridge, pinpointing the fire’s location. The ship was 180 miles north of Madeira and 550 miles northwest of Casablanca, Morocco.
At the time the blaze was discovered, most of the passengers were in the ship's ballroom, called the Lakonia Room, dancing at the "Tropical Tramps' Ball." Passengers began to notice the smell of smoke, but most dismissed it as strong cigar smoke. Captain Zarbis, who had been notified of the fire, attempted to make an announcement on the ship's intercom system, but it had been disabled by the blaze. As smoke began to fill the ballroom at about 11:30, the band stopped playing and cruise director George Herbert ushered the frightened passengers to the boat deck. The upper deck was ablaze within 10 minutes.

More soon...

Belle Boyd, part 5

I truly wonder how many parts it will take to finnish this thing on Belle Boyd. It is long.


...The spy rode out with the captain, and Keily talked freely. To him, as she said wryly, she was "indebted for some very remarkable effusions, some withered flowers, and last, not least, for a great deal of very important information. . . ." Belle gathered that a major Federal drive would soon be mounted, and her aunt’s hotel was a rare observation point. One night in mid May she learned that a war council was about to be held in the hotel parlor. Directly above was a bedroom with a closet, and, as Belle had once noticed, the closet floor had a small knothole. Perhaps the energetic spy enlarged it a bit for her purposes. When the men gathered, she lay down in the closet and put her ear to the opening. For hours she stayed there, motionless, cramped, catching every murmur as the men, sitting over cigars and maps, argued strategy. Belles mind filled with names, figures, placement of scattered armies. There was much she did not understand, so she memorized most of it. The meeting ended about one in the morning, and, after waiting for the halls to clear, Belle scurried to her cottage and wrote out a cipher message. She had to leave with it at once. To wake a servant was too great a risk, so she saddled her horse and led him softly away. A few minutes later she was galloping toward the mountains. In her pocket she had a pass left her by a paroled Confederate. A sentry stopped her, and as she thrust it into his hands she talked nervously of sickness in the family, her need for haste. He let her by. She had to rein in and chatter out her story to another guard, and he nodded. With that she sped across fields, along marshes, past cabins. Fifteen miles away was a house where she had been told she could send an emergency message to Colonel Ashby, Jacksons head spy. At last, breathless, she jumped from her horse and hammered at the door of the dark building. A suspicious voice demanded who she was. After she gave her name, the friend opened the door and gaped at her: "My dear, where'd you come from?" Belle ignored his questions as male irrelevance, and asked her own. Where was Ashby? How soon could she reach him? Told that his party was quartered up the road, she started to turn, when another door opened, and Ashby himself frowned at her. "Good God! Miss Belle, is that you?" The girl told all she knew and left hurriedly, for she had to get back home before dawn. She was nearly there when a drowsy sentry, waking just as she rode by fired after her. But she was lying exhausted in her own bed by the time General Shieldss forces rolled out of Martinsburg. The next ten days or so would see vigorous action, she felt sure. Rumors arrived soon of Federal movements at Winchester. Feeling the need to be "on the go" once more, Belle asked for a pass. The provost marshal was suspicious, and put her off with one excuse after another. He sometimes left on short absences, however, and she waited until he rode out of town. Then Belle applied prettily to a young cavalry lieutenant in the provosts office. She, a girl cousin, and her maid were anxious to make the trip, and surely he wouldn't object. The lieutenant hesitated, and Belle moved closer. . . . Well, he had to go thereabouts himself, Miss Belle, and hed just ride along. Though she had not expected quite that arrangement, she took full advantage of it. For the young Union officer the trip was a gay adventure. He escorted the girls through the lines and they stayed briefly at Winchester. There, unexpectedly or perhaps not so unexpectedly, a new opportunity opened to the alert Miss Boyd. A "gentleman of high social standing" found her and murmured an anxious message: He had several papers that should go to General Jackson or one of his subordinates. He shoved them into Belles hands. They all dealt with the impending clash between Confederate and Northern forces and were of varying importance. The first packet she examined was vital, and Belle slipped it to her maid, reasoning that the Federals would probably not search a Negro. A paper of less import the girl dropped casually in a small basket; another of the same sort she gave the bemused lieutenant to hold. A final document, of great significance, she held in her own hand. The blithe party started back. They did not get far, for they had just reached Winchesters outskirts when a pair of detectives flagged them down. They were all under arrest. At headquarters the colonel in charge asked a direct question: was Miss Boyd carrying any disloyal messages? The lieutenant was flustered. Belle knew that the less important packet in her basket would quickly be found, so she promptly passed it to the colonel. In her hand she still held the most vital of the papers. "What’s that?" the colonel demanded. Belle employed elementary psychology. "This scrap? Nothing. You can have it." She moved forward as if to give the note to him; had he reached out, she said later, she would have swallowed it. Instead, the colonel turned his attention to the lieutenant. From his pocket that luckless man fished Belles paper, and caught the brunt of the older mans rage. What did this mean--carrying messages for the secesh! Didn't the unwitting fool know. . .? To the girls regret, the lieutenant stayed under arrest. Belle herself, according to a newspaper of a few days later, "with her usual adroitness and assumed innocence, got clear of the charges of treachery." She had not only kept the essential note in her hand, but also the valuable one in her maids possession!

More shall come...

Someday...

Belle Boyd, part 4

I deeply apologize for being lazy. I have been recovering from an illness, and once I was better, I was too busy catching up on all the other things I had missed while sick. But anyway, here is another part about Belle Boyd.


...Belle explains, however, that she had begun to experiment in espionage. Whatever she learned, she "regularly and carefully committed to paper" and sent to her beloved Stonewall Jackson or to Jeb Stuart. Soon her first mistake tripped her. A true novice, she had no cipher and made no effort to disguise her handwriting. One of her notes reached Union headquarters, and the colonel in command summoned her. Reading the articles of war, he asked sternly if Miss Belle knew she could be sentenced to death? Belle declined to be frightened. She made a full curtsy, and her eyes swept over the officers in the room. "Thank you, gentlemen of the jury," she murmured in irony, and swirled out. But she had to be more careful, and for a time she used as helper an old Negro, who carried messages in a big watch from which the insides had been removed. A certain Sophie B. also assisted her. Lacking Belles superlative horsemanship, Sophie once had to walk seven miles each way to Jacksons camp. In her memoirs of these salad days of her spying, Belle gives only a few details, but reveals something of her inspiration. One day she heard of the exploit of Rose Greenhows famous helper, Betty Duvall, with her market girls disguise and the dispatch hidden in her black locks. Spy inspired spy, and Belle sought out Colonel Turner Ashby, Jacksons sharp-faced cavalry leader, head of military scouts in the Shenandoah Valley. Ashby was no mean spy himself when he put on civilian clothes and rode around Union camps in the role of a dreary veterinarian. For days Ashby would treat ailing horses, then jog back to his own lines with all he needed to know about the enemy. From him Belle received several assignments as courier for the Confederate forces. She learned the use of a cipher, and in the shifting battle areas she frequently carried messages on brief runs, pounding through back country and over short cuts on her horse. Her tomboy days were paying off. Restless as ever, she worked in one town after another, until she heard in late March of 1862 that fighting was on again at Martinsburg. Her place was there, she felt, but as she passed through nearby Winchester an enemy tipped off Union authorities. At the railroad station, officers begged Belles pardon--and arrested her. She would have to go all the way to Baltimore with them. The experience might have been terrifying to the girl, but, while friends watched glumly, Belle adjusted a bright new beribboned hat and assured them that nothing was going to happen to her! They’d see. They did. Her prison in Baltimore was a comfortable hotel, where she held court and chuckled at, then with her captors. A week passed pleasantly as officials puzzled over what to do about her. General Dix, who had presided at the Greenhow hearing, found no specific evidence, and let her leave with a fatherly warning. With another deep bow and a raised eyebrow, the junior spy swished out. After this adventure she rejoined her family at Front Royal, forty miles south of Martinsburg, where Belle’s aunt and uncle had a small hotel. To her surprise, Union forces had taken over the building and the remaining members of her family had moved to a cramped cottage. Such restriction made Belle’s Confederate heart sink. She knew precisely where she wanted to be--in Richmond, the heart of everything that interested her. As Belle understood life, the way to get a thing was to ask for it, especially if the one to be asked were a man. So she sought out the commander, General James Shields. The good-humored Irishman beamed at the bold, pretty girl. Ah, he clicked his tongue, if he gave Miss Belle the pass she wished, she would have to go through General Jacksons lines. Shields shook his head in mock regret; those Confederates had been so demoralized that he dared not trust Miss Belle to their mercies. Then with a twinkle he added that in a few days Jackson s men would all be wiped out, and she could go through! So assured was the Union officer, Belle said in her memoirs, that he forgot "a woman can sometimes listen and remember." Sensing a chance for a real exploit, she changed her plans in a second. She would stay right here. When she twinkled back at Shields, he grew expansive and introduced her to his staff. A younger, handsomer Irishman seemed definitely worthy of cultivation and quickly Belle let Captain Keily think he was cultivating her.

Someday, more will come...

Two lady outlaws

Sorry y'all. I just got rather lazy and decided to skip Belle Boyd for today. But you should be happy I even posted something, I am still sick, and have been staying away from the computer ever since I came down with this dreaded disease while working on here. Anyhow, here is a bit about:

Cattle Annie and Little Britches
Annie McDougal and Jennie Metcalf were just teenagers, only sixteen and seventeen in 1874, when they met members of the Doolin gang. The Doolin Gang, often associated with the Daltons, robbed banks, stages, and trains. They were a bloodthirsty gang who often murdered innocent bystanders.
The two teenage girls appeared to have been charmed by the outlaws and the lives they led. While the gang had a hideout in Indian territory in Oklahoma, the girls began to serve as message carriers and lookouts for the gang. They would warn Doolin and the gang if anyone was approaching their hideout by firing a rifle shot into the air. The girls went by the nicknames of Cattle Annie and Little Britches.
Jennie was called Little Britches because of her habit of wearing pants far too big for her slender frame. She was born Jennie Stevens in Missouri in 1879. She had a sister and possibly more siblings. Her family was poor, but honest. In around 1887 the family moved to Seneca on the outer edges of Indian Territory, where Jennie's outlaw activities began.
When she was barely fifteen, Jennie donned men's clothes and went out to seek adventure. She got lost and when she returned home received a thrashing from her father. By the time she was sixteen, she had two failed marriages behind her. She met Annie at a dance, and the two girls formed a close friendship. They later met up with members of the Doolin gang and started working for them.
Annie was born in Kansas and had several siblings. By differing accounts, her father was either a lawyer turned preacher or poor and uneducated. Whatever he was, he was not an outlaw. Annie did domestic work to help out. The family moved to the Cherokee Nation, which is where she began her venture into crime.
Annie attended the dance where she met Jennie with a boyfriend and there she became introduced to and fell madly in love with George "Red Buck" Waightman, a member of the Doolin gang. Cattle Annie got her name when she became suspected of rustling the neighbor's cattle.
Both girls were poor, uneducated, and no doubt felt flattered by the attention of the outlaws and gladly served as lookouts for them. The two girl bandits were crack shots and managed to evade the law at every turn. Eventually, though, their misdeeds caught up with them and the girls were arrested for rustling cattle and bootlegging whiskey to the Indians.
The two young girl bandits were caught in Pawnee, Oklahoma. Cattle Annie was caught right away, but Little Britches gave them a run for their money. The girls, convicted and sentenced to five yers, were sent to prison in Boston. The girls, who had never been out of Oklahoma, found the trip East exciting. Once there, they became celebrities, known as the Oklahoma Girl Bandits. Both were released from prison several years early for good behavior, and retired from their lives of crime. Annie settled down and married. Jennie moved to New York and died of tuberculosis shortly after.
Because of the brief duration of their crimes and because they reformed shortly after, their exploits have often been passed over in favor of more colorful outlaws. But for the two short years this pair of tough girls rode the outlaw trail, they gave lawmen a world of trouble.

Belle Boyd, Part 3

At last! Another post! I suppose I must continue with Belle Boyd, even though there is only two people who actually go on here, but, whatever.

...She had already met the commander, old "Stonewall," for whom she acquired an admiration that approached, then exceeded worship. To her, General Jackson, the bearded, reticent genius, was "that undaunted hero, that true apostle of Freedom."Belle promptly went to the hospitals to help the wounded, and she was there when a triumphant Union officer entered. Waving a flag over the soldiers beds, he referred to them as "damned rebels." Belle snapped at him, commenting scornfully on the bravery of a man who insulted men when they were "as helpless as babies." The Federal soldier was taken by surprise. "And pray, who may you be, Miss?"Belle glared, and her maid spoke up for her: "A rebel lady." "A d- independent one, at all events," remarked the Northerner as he left the hospital. The next day Belle had what she termed her "first adventure," when she killed herself a Yankee soldier, in a highly controversial incident. Half the town of Martinsburg knew that the forthright Belle kept Confederate flags all over the walls of her room, and word of this reached the Union forces, who were planning a great July Fourth celebration. While the Boyds stayed at home, the men in blue drank heavily, smashed windows at random, and broke into houses to hunt for Southern souvenirs. One party staggered into the Boyd place, tore down pictures, and stamped toward Belle’s room. "Wheres the secesh flags?" they demanded. As Belle and her mother stood tight-lipped, the maid slipped out and removed the flags. The thwarted Northerners then announced that they would make sure the d- family looked loyal, anyway, and one pulled out a big American flag and started to climb to the roof to hoist it. For once Belle’s mother lost her meekness and called out: "Men, every member of this household will die before that flag is raised over us." The soldier cursed and pushed Mrs. Boyd aside. According to Belle, "I could stand it no longer; my indignation was aroused beyond control. . . . I drew out my pistol and shot him." A near riot followed, with Union soldiers firing shots at the house and threatening to burn it down. Then guards arrived. The Confederates considered Belle's act one of simple justice. The Union commanding officer hurried up to investigate, held a hearing--and exactly nothing more happened. Belle put aside her gun and employed tears and smiles. The result was that a guard was posted at the house to make sure no further incidents occurred, and "Federal officers called every day to inquire if we had any complaint"! Belle recalled that in this way she first became "acquainted with so many of them." Before long she had set a good many teeth on edge by fraternizing with the enemy, which astonished and horrified conservative Martinsburg.

To be continued...

Eventually...

The RMS Atlantic

I'll continue with Belle Boyd, in a week or so. But now, I just wanted to share a bit about one of the many ships that I have found so fascinating. The Atlantic. Which, by the way, was also built by the same ship line as as the Titanic. The White Star Line.

The Atlantic was built by Harland and Wolff in Belfast, Ireland in 1870, and was the second ship built for the newly reborn White Star Line. She was powered by a steam engine producing 600 horsepower (447 kW) driving a single propeller, along with four masts rigged for sail. She set sail on her maiden voyage for New York on June 8, 171.
On March 20, 1873 the Atlantic departed on her 19th voyage from Liverpool with 959 persons onboard, of whom 835 were passengers. En route, the crew decided to make port at Halifax, Nova Scotia, to replenish coal for the boilers.
During the approach to Halifax on the evening of March 31 the captain and 3rd officer were on the bridge until midnight, while the Atlantic made her way through a storm, proceeding at 12 knots (22 km/h) for Terence Bay, Nova Scotia, experiencing limited visibility and heavy seas. Unbeknownst to the crew or passengers, the Atlantic was approximately 20 kilometres off-course to the west of Halifax Harbour.
At 2:00 local time on April 1 1873, the Atlantic struck an underwater rock called Marr's Head 50 metres from Meagher's Island, Nova Scotia. Lifeboats were lowered by the crew but were washed away as the ship began to sink, killing 546. The ship's manifest indicates there were 156 women and 189 children on board (including two who had been born during the voyage). All perished except for one boy, John Hindley. Every member of the crew survived. Several sources put the survivor count between 371 and 413. This was the worst civilian loss of life in the Northern Atlantic until the wreck of Norge on Rockall on 28 June 1904. The Canadian government investigation was concluded with the statement, "the conduct of Captain Williams in the management of his ship during the 12 or 14 hours preceding the disaster, was so gravely at variance with what ought to have been the conduct of a man placed in his responsible position".
Today, most of the ship still lies under 15 to 90 feet of water. The RMS Atlantic was the second liner commissioned by White Star (Oceanic being first) but carried the notoriety of being the first White Star Line steamer to sink.
After the wreck, as the bodies were recovered and prepared for burial, it was discovered that one of the crew members was actually a woman, between 20 and 25 years old. According to a newspaper account at the time, she "had served as a common sailor for three voyages, and her gender was never known until the body was washed ashore and pre pared for burial. She is described as having been a great favorite with all her shipmates, and one of the crew, speaking of her, remarked: 'I didn't know Bill was a woman. He used to take his grog as regular as any of us, and was always begging or stealing tobacco. He was a good fellow, though, and I am sorry he was a woman.' It is said that the poor thing was an American, and, among the crew, perhaps the only one of that nationality." *

*Answers. com

Belle Boyd, part 2

Here is the second part of Belle Boyd's story, Isabella's hero!

...Her birthplace was the Shenandoah Valley, whose rolling hills, "broad, clear, rapid streams," silver maples, and rocky borders Belle pictured in affectionate memory. Her native town of Martinsburg, then in Virginia, now West Virginia, lay in a peaceful area which eventually exploded in action and shifted from Southern to Northern hands. As Belle later told a Chicago interviewer, she came of a "well known family of Virginia," having ties among the best in the state." The Boyds traced themselves back to an ancient Scottish clan; they had highly placed kin in New Orleans and parts of Kentucky, and a family connection with George Randolph, later Confederate Secretary of War. Although Belle was reluctant to admit it, her branch of the Boyds had done less well than others. Her father ran a store and managed a tobacco farm. To her English admirers Belle described an idyllic childhood in a "pretty two-storied house," its walls "hidden by roses and honeysuckle." Idyllic it may have been, for a relative recalled that Belle had been a reckless tomboy who climbed trees, raced through the woods on a nettlesome mount, and dominated brothers, sisters, and cousins. It is said that her mild-mannered mother never disciplined her; what little Miss Boyd wished to do, she did. There is a story that when she made a visit to Tennessee relatives she encountered a stricter home regime and, to her surprise, liked it, "although it was the first time in her life she ever had to conform to family rules." She did not conform for long; in her own phrase, she preferred to be ''on the go. Despite their lack of money, the Boyds gave their daughter a good education. After some preliminary schooling, she was sent at the age of twelve to the Mount Washington Female College at Baltimore. A minister was head of the college, hut despite his influence Belle remained "on the go." At sixteen her training was ''supposed to be completed," and her family and friends arranged a debut in Washington. Cousins made certain that the tall, graceful girl met the proper hostesses and received invitations to the best affairs. Secretary of War Floyd, soon to join the Confederacy, was one in whose drawing rooms Belle became a favorite. For the impulsive adolescent the waltzes and cotillions, the bright conversations with uniformed officers, judges, and senators were a heady experience. The season was that of late 1860, however, and more and more often she heard the echoes of clashes over slavery's extension. Then came secession. With Sumters fall Belle headed home for Martinsburg, "enthusiastic in my love for my country, the South." There she discovered that her forty-four-year-old father had volunteered for military service. Sedentary, highly unmilitary, Ben Boyd nevertheless insisted on taking his part in the war. Offered "that grade in the army to which his social position entitled him," he had instead enlisted as a private. Beside younger and more hardy men, Ben was to suffer greatly in the war; but Belle reacted with hearty approval, contributing to town funds for his regiment, the 2nd Virginia, and joining other Confederate causes as they sprang up. To nobodys surprise, she soon found these employments too tame and monotonous to satisfy my temperament." When her father went to the camp at Harpers Ferry, she helped organize a festive visiting party. Officers and men were and joyous," she wrote, and "many true hearts" were pledged. To this Belle added: "A true woman always loves a real soldier." Not yet seventeen, Miss Boyd considered herself a "true woman." So, perhaps, did others. Observers did not always agree about her looks, for while some considered her beautiful, or at least handsome, a few noted that she had a prominent nose, and ultimately Northern and Southern journalists would debate the momentous issue: did Belle have freckles, or didn't she? One man said that her face possessed "too much character in it to be called merely pretty." Still, Belle had shining blue eyes, a heavy head of light brownish hair, and, last but not least, a fine figure which many commented on, despite Victorian proprieties. Early in July 1861, Ben Boyds regiment prepared for battle, and sorrowfully the girl and her mother bade him good-by, and returned to Martinsburg. The 2nd Virginia met Union forces and fell back; still more sorrowfully Belle watched as her father and his comrades retreated through the home town...

I know that I ought to put it into italic, but I find that hard to read, so you'll just have to live with regular handwriting! More to come!

Belle Boyd, Part 1

I have always enjoyed reading about Belle Boyd, a cool Confederate spy. Maybe that's because she reminds me of my character, Isabella! Even though she was for the south, she led a very interesting life. But here is the start of a big long thing about her:

Belle Boyd, Cleopatra of the Secession
Belle Boyd played the role of spy as if the war were a lighthearted game of charades. And she lived as if she were fashioning her days into the plot of a romantic story. During her lifetime she could have read about herself in at least two historical novels, although neither did justice to her dashing exploits. The zestful Miss Boyd became an espionage agent when she was seventeen, and served the Confederacy throughout the war, in Dixie, the North, and England as well. She matched the boldness of any man, galloping headlong into the dark with cipher messages, or creeping into rooms to eavesdrop on Union Army conferences. On at least one occasion (when she could persuade none of the men to do it for her), she daringly entered battle lines to carry back important information. But Belle Boyd was above all overwhelmingly feminine; she made good use of her womanly appeal, of which she had an enormous amount. Unlike others who impersonated the inconspicuous female and made themselves up as a drab housewife or dowdy traveler, this spy played her own personality to the hilt, with a dramatic air and sweeping gestures, wearing rich reds and greens and feathers in her hat. Belle had a "joyous recklessness," as one reluctant admirer phrased it. She looked at men through her long lashes, assuring them that she had no intentions hostile to the North, while she stole whatever secrets were at hand and filched others practically from their pockets. Belle possessed at least one additional asset--perhaps the best pair of legs in the Confederacy. Even a lady must get in and out of a carriage or with a flurry of petticoats dismount from a home; at such times Miss Boyd showed a pretty confusion, and very fine ankles. Her actions were puzzling to her opponents, for at times she seemed cunning, at others naive. Always an individualist, she spied "by ear," after her own special fashion. Belle obviously did not believe in the virtues of silence, for what she thought, she generally said. Despite her failings, she proved a remarkably good agent. Belle Boyd loved the South passionately. After the war she said she had never "had a consciousness that I was a spy. I only wanted to help my people." Nevertheless, as Carl Sandburg has observed, she could have been "legally convicted and shot at sunrise on the basis of the evidence against her. Yet Belle had critics among Southerners themselves. She traveled alone, to the horror of more conventional women. A "brilliant talker," she conversed easily with anyone she met, and her lack of self-consciousness in the company of men was unusual in a woman of her class. She shocked her conservative friends by visiting camps, calling on generals and colonels in their tents, and accepting carriage rides in the warm afternoons. She even danced and flirted with Northerners as well as Southerners. When she bothered to defend herself, Belle said that it was necessary for her to be on good terms with both sides. Yet, there was no doubt that Miss Belle liked the boys in blue as well as those in gray. And she obviously liked spying; she performed her duty to the South and had a nice time, too. She could always rely on a hidden weapon--male gallantry. When Federal commanders discovered that she had given information to the South that might wreck their plans, she would look sad, speak half gaily, half pathetically, and Northern chivalry would prove as strong as Southern; they would release her. Before she reached twenty-one this Virginian had been imprisoned twice, "reported" nearly thirty times, and arrested six or seven. In one romantic feat she persuaded her Northern captor to marry her and switch sides. Nearly everybody liked Belle or enjoyed hearing about her. In Piccadilly, English crowds hailed her as if she were a Sir Walter Scott heroine. French newspapers termed her "La Belle Rebelle." It can be surmised that she approved the title...

This thing is quite long, so I will post it all in peices. Sorry!


Source: "Spies For the Blue and Gray" by Harnett T. Kane

Engineers of the Titanic

There were many heroes aboard the Titanic. It seems that there were many men who worked hard to get women and children into boats, and then there were the ones who ventured down into third class to bring up more women and children who were trapped, there was also the ones who lowered the boats, the officers who worked hard to carry out orders, and the wireless operators who stayed calling for help until the Marconi room began to take on water, and the band members who calmed passengers down with their music till the very last second. But the ones who have received the least credit of all are the engineers who fearlessly remained in the belly of the ship, pumping water and keeping the electricity running. Undoubtedly, if they had left their posts and let the lights go out, there would have been mass panic, for the night was dark and moonless (by most accounts). They kept the lights on for almost three hours, from the time the Titanic hit the ice berg, until her stern reared up, broke in half, and plunged into the bottom of the ocean, “…the engineers…still at work as she [the Titanic] heeled over and flung them with their engines down the length of the ship”*. They were never acknowledged by the survivors after the sinking. The editors and staff of the respected Scientific American wrote the following editorial in an attempt to honor the Titanic’s brave engineering crew and right what they saw as a grave injustice.

A Tribute To The Engineers Of The Titanic
April 27, 1912

There is a world of heroic and tragic significance in the fact that the survivors’ stories of the last hours of the Titanic make no reference whatever to the thirty-five officers of the engineer force. Of the officers of the deck there is frequent mention and many of them are among the survivors. This is natural and proper, for they were standing at their posts of duty. We read also of farewells between them and other officers whose duties were concerned with the welfare of the Titanic passengers; but in all the records of the final eventful hours there is not mention of any one of the band of men whose duties called for their presence far down in the deepest recesses of the ship. In the roll of the saved there is not the name of a single certified engineer. Why this literal silence of the grave? There can be but one answer. Every man of the engineer watch stuck to his post to the very last and went down with the ship. Furthermore, this devotion to duty leads us to believe that such engineers as were not on watch may have voluntarily gone below to render what assistance they could in the sudden and frightful emergency. This heroic devotion on the part of a little recognized body of professional men, the importance of whose duties on board ship is overlooked by the average trans-Atlantic passenger, will make an even greater impression upon our minds if we remember that they, above everybody else on that ship, must have known that she had received her death wound and that the hour of her sinking might be delayed, but not by any possibilities averted. While those above deck, conscious of the enormous magnitude of the Titanic were exclaiming “You cannot sink he,” these men standing on the double bottom may possibly have seen the submerged edge of the iceberg come ripping through the sides of the ship, opening up boiler room after boiler room to the savage inrush of water! The bunkers, we learn, were arranged transversely to the ship. Hence if the bilges of side plating were ruptured, the inrush of water must have occurred before the very eyes of the engineers; and to the seafaring man there is no sight before which his courage will quail so quickly as this. Nevertheless, there is every reason to believe that not a man flinched from his trial. Steam was maintained in such boiler rooms as were not invaded by the water; the powerful bilge pumps were kept going to the very last minute; and the electricity lighting plant was watched over, evidently with careful solicitude. It is certain the pumps alone must have very materially delayed the sinking of the ship; and the value, in that hour of terrible stress, of the work done by the electrical engineers in keeping the lights going until the last trace of the ship disappeared, is impossible to overestimate.**

How scary it must have been for them, trapped in the very bottom of the ship, knowing that their death was approaching and yet working all the while to keep the power on, and keep the pumps manned all the while as the water kept coming in, filling the holds where they worked, filling slowly up to their neck…and then she sank, carrying them all to the very bottom along with her. That is what I call a true hero.


* Lawrence Beesley, The Loss Of The S.S Titanic
**Thanks to Stephen Spignesi, The Complete Titanic

Wilmer McLean

Here's an interesting tidbit of information:

On July 18, 1861 the lead elements of the Union and Confederate armies met at Blackburn's Ford on Bull Run Creek in Virginia. The farm land on which this skirmish took place was owned by Mr. McLean. During the battle a cannon shot exploded in the McLean farmhouse kitchen which was being used by Confederate General Beauregard as his headquarters. There were 83 US and 68 CS casualties in the fight.

In the Spring of '63 Wilmer McLean moved to Appomattox County, Virginia. On April 9, 1865 General Lee Surrendered to General Grant in the parlor of the McLean house, which was located near the courthouse.

Afterwards, Wilmer McLean said, "The war began in my dining room and ended in my parlor!"

That's certainly more than just a coincidence!

...WillDog

Esther Hart's story part 4

Dude, here's the last part of Esther Hart's story.

...So we got away from the ship for a safe distance, for there was no doubt now about her sinking. The front portion of her was pointing downwards and she appeared to be breaking in halves. Then with a mighty and tearing sob, as of some gigantic thing instinct with life, the front portion of her dived, for that is the only word I can use properly to describe it,-dived into the sea, and the after part with a heavy list, also disappeared. And then a wonderful thing happened. Apart from the swirl of the water close to the vessel, caused by such a mass sinking, the sea was as smooth as glass; it seemed as if the Almighty, in order that as many should be saved as possible had with a merciful hand, smoothed and calmed the waters. For a few moments we could see everything that was happening, for, as the vessel sank, millions and millions of sparks flew up and lit everything around us. And in an instant the sea was alive with wreckage,-with chairs, pillows, and rugs, benches, tables, cushions, and, strangely enough, black with an enormous mass of coffee beans. And the air was full of the awful and despairing cries of drowning men. And we were helpless to help, for we dared not go near them.Our officer was busy shouting out till he was hoarse, “Let all the boats keep as near together as possible. That’s our only chance of being picked up. If we separate we are lost. Keep together.” An inky blackness now settled over us, and not a soul in our boat had a match; but the officer found in his pockets an electric torch, which he kept flashing, shouting out all the time,- “Keep together,-it’s our only chance.” The duty that the officer allotted to me was to bale the water out of the boat. While sitting there I had the impression that there was somebody near me who ought not to be there. So, when I could get my elbows free I put my hand down under the seat and touched a human form. It was a poor wretch of a man who had smuggled himself into the boat, and had sat there during all that awful time, under the seat in about six inches of water. When we got him out he was so stiff he could scarcely move.It had got a little lighter now, and our officer had collected nearly all the boats together; and he called from one to the other, “How many in yours-how many in yours?” and then he discovered that there was room in those other boats to put the whole of our fifty-five in, so we were transferred to them, and the officer now collected a few seaman in his now empty boat and rowed away to see what he could find. So, with proper management another fifty-five people could easily have been saved. I cannot understand why, in the midst of such terrible doings, these boats left the ship without their full number of passengers; fifty-five precious lives lost either through selfishness or carelessness, I know not which. It was no easy matter for me to get from one boat to the other. I am no light weight at the best of times: but now I was weak from want of sleep,-weak with the terror of the night,-and laden with Ben’s heavy motor coat. Eva had been handed in, and I shall never forget my feelings when I saw her leave, and found myself unable to get a footing on the boat she was in. At last I managed it, how I could not tell. Eva was suffering from a violent attack of vomiting: for, when they had thrown her into the first boat from the Titanic she had hit her stomach on the edge of the boat. And there the poor little thing was, and I could not get near her to wipe her mouth. So there we sat the weary night through until at eight in the morning, the Carpathia came on the scene. I always thought that these ship boats had to be provisioned beforehand, in view of possible accidents, but there was no water, nor were there biscuits in the boat. An oversight I suppose: but one fraught with terrible consequences had not the Carpathia arrived in good time.Gradually the welcome dawn broke; and as the sun rose and we looked at where the sky and sea met, we saw one of the most wonderful sights that could be imagined. Right away there, stretching for miles and miles, there appeared what seemed to us, an enormous fleet of yachts, with their glistening sails all spread. As the sun grew brighter they seemed they seemed to sparkle with innumerable diamonds. They were icebergs; and, moving slowly and majestically along all by itself, a mile or so in length, in form like the pictures of Gibraltar I have seen, was the monster iceberg, the cause of all our trouble. And now about 8 o’clock the “Carpathia” came into sight and we were all aboard by 8.30. I cannot say much of my life on board this vessel. It was no matter for a ship to take on another 700 people, many of them but lightly clad, most of them ill, and all suffering severely from shock; all was done for us that could be done: but I could neither rest nor sleep. My little Eva was still suffering from her vomiting attack and I found my hands full in nursing her; but when at night she was asleep, I could do nothing but walk the corridor, up and down, up and down, and thinking, thinking all the time. So much did I walk about at night that the kind hearted sailors christened me The Lady of the Watch. Well, eventually we arrived at New York. And what can I say of the kindness of the “Women’s Relief Committee,” and the help they rendered us poor stranded souls. Kindness! that’s but a poor word; and yet I can find no other for their intensely practical sympathy. No formulas, no questions. We had got to be helped and that quickly, and quickly they did it. In a short space of time with a speed that seemed incredible, there was a sufficiency of clothing for every destitute woman and child-my women readers will understand me when I say that everything a woman needed was there in abundance-from a blouse to a safety pin, underclothing, stays, stockings, garters, suspenders, hair pins, boots of all sizes, each pair with laces or a button hook in them as was necessary; I have never heard of such foresight. I have never experienced such real kindness. God bless the ladies of the “Women’s Relief Committee of New York,” say I heartily and fervently. Why, Mrs Satterlee actually drove me in her beautiful car to the hotel where I was to stay pending my return to England, and wanted me to go to lunch with her in her house, but my heart was too full for that. She knew the reason and appreciated it like the lady she is. One touching little incident occurred before I sailed for home on the “Celtic,” and that was the receipt of a letter from little children in New Jersey. They had heard of my Eva and they sent her a Dollar bill with a beautiful little letter. I don’t think that bill will ever be changed; for both it and the letter will be framed.There is but little to add. I returned on the “Celtic” with five other ladies from the “Titanic,” including Mrs Ada Clarke, of Southampton. We were treated with every kindness and consideration . A lady in the first saloon sent out word that whatever we wanted in the way of fruit or any other delicacies not included in our menu, we were to have.And now I have only one object in life, and that is the future of my little Eva. My lost Ben had such dreams of her future; he meant to do such things for her; and, whatever money I get, apart from the bare cost of the necessities of life, shall be devoted to her up-bringing in such a way as shall realise, as far as my endeavours and finances can go, his wishes with regard to her.
~Esther Hart “Slinfold,” Chadwell Heath.

This is the conclusion of Esther's story, please feel free to not like it if you wish, but I hope that you did enjoy it, I did.

Part 3 of Esther Hart's story

Sorry I haven't posted in awhile, I have been very busy with this and that. But anyway, here is part three of Esther Hart's story:

...Four boats we tried and at the fifth there was room. Eva was thrown in first, and I followed her. Just then, a man who had previously tried to get in, succeeded in doing so, but was ordered out, and the officer fired his revolver into the air to let everyone see it was loaded, and shouted out, “Stand back! I say, stand back! The next man who puts his foot in this boat, I will shoot him down like a dog.” Ben, who had been doing what he could to help the women and children, said quietly, “I’m not going in, but for God’s sake look after my wife and child.” And little Eva called out to the officer with the revolver “Don’t shoot my daddy,-You shan’t shoot my daddy.” What an experience for a little child to go through! At the age of seven to have passed through the valley of the shadow of death. I wonder if she will ever forget it? I know I shan’t, if I live for a hundred years.So that was the last I saw of my poor lost dear,-no farewell kiss, no fond word,-but in a moment he had gone and we were hanging over the sea,-fifty or sixty feet above it, and then there were two or three horrible jerks as the boat was lowered from the davits and we were in the water, so crowded that we could scarcely move.In the midst of all these stunning blows one despairing tact alone seized my thoughts: I knew, and a woman is `never wrong in such matters, that I had seen the last of my Ben, and that I had lost the best and truest friend, the kindest and most thoughtful husband that ever woman had.The officer in charge of our boat was standing on that raised part of it right at the end. We were all women and children aboard (at least I thought so then, but we were not, as I will presently tell you) and we were all crying and sobbing; and the officer said, not roughly, but I think with a kindly desire to keep our minds off the terrible time we had gone through. “Don’t cry,-please don’t cry. You’ll have something else to do than cry; some of you will have to handle the oars. For God’s sake stop crying. If I had not the responsibility of looking after you I would put a bullet through my brain."...

Well, I am sorry, but the rest will have to wait till next time...

Part 2 of Esther Hart's story

This is indeed part two of Esther Hart's story.

...Now if I had known that just at this time of the year the icebergs get across the track of the Atlantic liners, a little incident which occurred on this Sunday would have sent me straight to the Captain, even if I'd have had to climb on to his bridge. But the simple things we ought to know we are never told. My husband was always a man who could bear extremes of heat and cold better than anyone I have ever met. All through those trying days of heat last year, when everyone else was melting and parched, he never once grumbled, but kept as cool as a cucumber. And the same with the cold. I have known him, when other people have been hanging over the fires, in and out of the house with his coat off, laughing at the poor shivering ones. And yet at mid day on this fatal Sunday, he suddenly came up to baby and myself, and said rubbing his hands, "How cold it has turned. I feel as if there was not a warm drop of blood in my body. Come and have a romp with daddy," he said to baby, and together they went off and ran and romped on the hurricane desk.We were in the iceberg region and the Almighty sent a warning to my husband,-the man who was never cold before now shivered and shook like one stricken with ague.But, beyond thinking it a curious thing, we took no heed And now, I come to a part of my story that I shrink from telling. Indeed, I think I have lingered over the first part because I dread relating the events of that awful night. I have read some where of people living a whole lifetime in a few hours. I know now that I have done so. To have gone through what I went through, to have suffered what I have suffered, to have seen what I have seen, to know what I know, and still to be alive, and above all-thank the Lord-to still preserve my reason, is a great and a growing marvel to me.We had retired to our cabin about 10, and my husband who thoroughly enjoyed the life aboard ship and drank his fill of the ozone,-he could never get enough of it,-was soon undressed and fast asleep in his bunk. My little Eva too was sound asleep, and I was sitting on my portmanteau with my head resting on the side of my bunk. And then all of a sudden there came the most awful sound I have ever heard in my life,-a dreadful tearing and ripping sound,-how any people were awake at the time can say they scarcely felt a shock I cannot understand,-the sound of great masses of steel and iron being violently torn, rent and cut asunder.I was on my feet in an instant, for I knew something dreadful had happened. I shook Ben, and he awoke. “Daddy.” I said, “get up at once. We have hit something I am sure and it’s serious.” Poor dear Ben! He was partly asleep still, and he said, “Oh woman,-again! I really don’t know what I shall do with you?” “Ben,” I said,-not loudly, but with a quiet insistence which influenced him far more,-something has happened; go up on deck and find out what it is.” He went up in his nightshirt and bare feet; in a few moments he was back again. He said, “All the men are at the lifeboats,-it’s only a lifeboat drill.” I said, “They don’t have lifeboat drills at 11 at night, I tell you something has happened,-dress quickly and let us dress the baby.” So he hurriedly put on his pants and his overcoat, put his big motor coat over me and then dressed the sleeping little girl. Just then a stewardess, with whom I was on friendly terms came along and said she would soon find out all about it. She knew the Marconi operator and would ask him. So she went away and quickly came back saying that everything was all right. But I said, “Everything is not all right, we have struck something and the water is coming in.” I think by this time Ben had realised,-although he would not say so,-that danger was ahead, for when he got up on “B” deck, he turned away for a few moments, and said his Jewish prayers. The next few minutes were so crowded with events, so fraught with all that matters in this world,-life to a few of us,-death to the majority of us,-that I have no coherent recollection of what happened. I know that there was a cry of “She’s sinking.” I heard hoarse shouts of “Women and children first,” and then from boat to boat we were hurried, only to be told “already full.”...

Don't be alarmed, part three is coming up very soon...

Ilford Graphic, the tale of Mrs. Ben Hart

This is part-one of a large article by Mrs.Hart, Eva's mother. It is kinda long, so I only did part of it.

Ilford Graphic
The Tale of the "Titanic" told by a rescued Ilford lady.
Mrs Ben Hart's personal and thrilling Narrative. Exclusive to the "Ilford Graphic"
Friday 10th May 1912.
I can honestly say that from the moment the journey to Canada was mentioned, till the time we got aboard the Titanic I never contemplated with any other feelings but those of dread and uneasiness. It was all done in a hurry. My husband of late had not been successful in business and things looked like going from bad to worse.He was a very clever carpenter and his chest of tools was considered to be as perfect and expensive as any carpenter could wish for. At any rate he valued them at £100. He was going out to start building with a Mr Wire at Winnipeg. Mr Wire has since written to me expressing his deep regret at Ben's untimely loss, and adding. "There were five Winnipeg men lost on the Titanic and I might have been one of them."The idea seized on Ben's imagination. "I'll go out to a new country," he said. "Where I'll either sink or swim." In fact, during the time prior to our leaving Ilford, the latter statement was always in his mouth. I little knew then how sadly prophetic it was to turn out for my poor dear. I said at the commencement that I viewed the journey with dread and uneasiness, but in saying that I do not wish anyone to think that I ever imagined anything so dreadful would happen as did happen. You see I was leaving my father and mother when they were at fairly advanced age, and neither of them in the best of health and I knew that in saying goodbye, I was saying goodbye forever: but it has pleased God to take my husband and send me back to them. Then I was leaving all the friends I had known in Ilford for so many years: and lastly, I dreaded the sea: the idea of being on the sea at night was bad enough, but for six or seven, I could not contemplate it, it was a nightmare to me.Well, we said all our "Good-byes" and reached Southampton, and almost the first thing Ben did was take me to see the Titanic. He was always an enthusiastic in anything he was interested in: and he could not have been more enthusiastic over the Titanic had he been a part proprietor of it. "There! old girl," he said, "there's a vessel for you! You're not afraid now." I tried to share his confidence, but my heart quite failed me when we got aboard and I counted the number of boats there were. I said, "Ben, we are carrying over 2,000 people and there are not enough boats for half of them if anything happens." He laughed at my fears and said that beyond boat drills he did not expect the boats would come off the davits. But from that moment I made up my mind to one thing, till we were sale on land at New York.Nothing should ever persuade me to undress, and nothing did, although Ben at times got very cross with me. So each night I simply rested in my bunk, fully dressed and fully prepared. God knows why, for the worst.We were fortunate in having some very nice people at our table. We were in parties of eight in the second saloon, and our party included a lady and gentleman from the Cape, Mr and Mrs Brown and their daughter, who were on their way to Vancouver. Mr Guggenheim's (a millionaire) chauffeur, (both Mr and Mrs Guggenheim and he were drowned), a lady named Mrs Mary Mack, whose body has since been recovered, and Mr Hart, myself, and baby. Mr Brown and Ben got on capitally together. They were the exact opposite of each other. Mr Brown was a quiet, reserved man who scarcely ever spoke, and dadda was fond of talking and so they got on well, -promenaded the deck together, had their mid-day "Bass" together, and smoked their pipes together. Indeed, Mrs Brown said that she had never seen her husband "take" to anyone like he had to my Ben.Oh dear! Oh dear! To think that of the eight at the table, four were taken and four were left. I can see them bright, happy faces now as we sat round that table at meal times, talking of the future, they were all so confident, so looking forward to a new life in a new land, and well they found it, but in God's way, not theirs.Now a very curious thing happened on the Saturday night. We had made splendid progress, and although I was still far from easy in my mind. I was as content as I could be off the land. I heard someone remark with glee that we were making a bee line for New York. I knew we were going at a tremendous speed, and it was the general talk,-I cannot say what truth there was in it- that the Captain and offers were "on" something good if we broke the record.But on the Saturday night I was resting in my bunk and my husband was sound asleep above me. Everything was quiet, except the throb of the screw and a strange straining and creaking of everything in the cabin, which I had noticed all the voyage. I may have just dozed off when I was awakened by a feeling as if some gigantic force had given the ship a mighty push behind.-I could even hear the swirl of the waters which such a push to such a vessel would cause. I sat up,-no doubt as to my being wide awake, again came the push and the swirl, and yet again a third time. For a few minutes I was dazed, frozen with terror of I know not what. Then I stood up and shook my husband who still sleeping soundly "Ben," I said, "Ben wake up,-get up,-something dreadful has happened or is going to happen." He was a little cross, as a man naturally is when he is woke from a sound sleep by the ungrounded fears (as he thinks) of a woman, but he saw that I was upset, and so he got up and partly dressed, and went up on the hurricane deck, and soon returned and assured me that the sea was calm and that the ship was travelling smoothly.The next morning at breakfast, he laughingly told our table about it, and said what he was going to do that (Sunday night) to keep me quiet. He was going to insist upon my having a strong glass of hot grog to make me sleep. Mr Brown explained the creaking and straining by saying that as it was a new vessel everything was settling down into it's proper place. "Why," he said "When we get to New York, it's more than likely that a lot of the paint will have come away, a lot of the joints have started," and so on. "That's all very well," I said, "but what about those awful jerks one after the other?" That he could not explain, nor anybody else. I say it was a warning from God to me, for I think that perhaps I was the only one of the 2,000 odd about who went in daily and nightly dread of the unforeseen. But had I told it to those in authority! Would anyone have listened to a silly, weak woman's superstitious fears? Would they have gone one hair's breadth out of their course? Would they have ordered one revolution less per minute of the screw? So I could only do what women have had to do from the beginning, eat my heart out with fear and wait...

To be continued...

Cool names+Ptolemies

I also think that the names of the Pharaohs and queens in Egypt are cool. I mean, they never had anyone named ‘John Smith’ or ‘Mary Dorcus’, ya’ know, short boring names like that. Take Nefartari, Meryetamen, Istnofret, Maat-Hor-Neferure, Auibre Hor, Irynofret, Merenphat, Amenmesse, Seti, Merybast, Neferhotep, Hesysunebef, Amennakht, Naunakht, Hatshepsut, Akhenaten, Seqenenre Tao, Kenherkhepeshef, Mutnodjmet, Ramsesnakht, Amenhotep, and my three personal favorites; Amunherwenemef, Neferneferuaten, and Djedmaatesankh ! These names are an adventure just to pronounce! And I think they are great, I wish that we could all be named like that. Wouldn’t that be cool! Though it seems that in the last line of Pharaohs, in the end of the BC’s, they lost their creativity. All the females were named Bernice, Arsinoe, and Cleopatra, (Which all mean:‘Glory to her father’) while the males were all named Ptolemy. Sad. Can you imagine having your father, uncles, grandfathers, and brothers all with the same name, except for the number at the end? It’s like; “Yo, Ten, come here!” “Hey Fifteen guess what!”. All the Ptolemies had nicknames though. The famous Cleopatra VII’s father, Ptolemy XII, was called Auletes, meaning flute player. Another one, Ptolemy VIII was called Physcon, which meant “Fatty”. He was his name. Whenever he sat down, servants had to hoist him to his feet, because he was so big he could not! Too bad that the Ptolemies were also a very bloodthirsty line. The Ptolemies would kill any brothers, sisters, mother, father, or anyone else who stood in the way of the throne, or even if they just felt like it. Ptolemy IV killed his mother, brother, and uncle. Those are just a few of them, even Autletes killed a few people. “Fatty” killed his own son, dismembered the body, and sent the pieces to the boy’s mother as a birthday present. Gross. But despite all this, I will forever remain faithful to my interest of ancient in Egypt!

Eva Hart

Eva Hart was a a young girl traveling on the Titanic, she was a only child and was with her mother and father. Only she and her mother survived. Here is her recollection of the sinking:

I was born in Ilford Essex January 31 1905, my father was a master builder… he had a friend who had gone to Canada and was doing remarkable well as a builder…and he tried to persuade my father to join him…it was all decided in the space of one night…my father was so excited about it and my mother was upset…The first time in my life I saw her crying…she was so desperately unhappy about the prospect of going. We went on the day on the boat train...I was 7, I had never seen a ship before…it looked very big…everybody was very excited, we went down to the cabin…It was a 4 berth cabin…we had three beds and my mother had a table she used to sit at to do her knitting or sewing … and that’s when my mother said to my father that she had made up her mind quite firmly that she would not go to bed in that ship, she would sit up all night…she decided that she wouldn’t go to bed at night, and she didn’t …[the night of the sinking] she felt this little ‘bump’ as she always described it, because we were a long way from it. We were on the port side of the ship and the collision was on the starboard side of the ship, and had she been asleep it wouldn’t have wakened her… she immediately awakened my father… My father went away and spoke to one of the sailors and came back and said ‘We’ve hit an iceberg…they’re going to launch the lifeboats but you’ll be back on for breakfast.’ They started to lower the boats and my father put my mother and I in without any trouble at all…I never saw him again…he told me to hold my mommy’s hand and be a good girl, that’s all he said. The panic seemed to me to start after the boats had gone, we could hear it…after we were rowing away from the ship…then we could hear the panic of people rushing about on the deck and screaming and looking for lifeboats…I was terrified…it was dreadful…the bows went down first and the stern stuck up on the ocean what seemed to me like a long time…but it stood up stark against the sky and then keeled over and went down, you could hear the people screaming and thrashing about in the water…and finally the ghastly noise of the people thrashing about and screaming and drowning, that finally ceased. I remember saying to my mother once, ‘How dreadful that noise was’ and I’ll always remember her reply, she said, ‘Yes, but think back about the silence that followed it…because all of a sudden the ship wasn’t there, the lights weren’t there and the cries weren’t there.’ *


Can you imagine how those cries must have sounded? The last desperate screams as death overtook women, children, and men alike. It must have been horrible. Survivors have talked about the silence that followed, as one after another, the more than one thousand people in the freezing water slowly succumbed to the deadly cold. The dark eerie calm of the sea was intensified in the eyes of the living, by the sound of the dead in the silence. Eesh

*Titanic voices

Ramses II

Even though I find the era of pharoahs in Egypt very, very cool, and consider myself a Egypt freak, there are a few of their customs that are very gross. Take Ramses II, he had at least six chief wives, and dozens of lesser wives and concubines. Several of the girls he married were foreigners he married for alliances; he had at least two Hittite brides, one Syrian princess, and one Babylonian. He also married several Egyptian women of royal blood, at least his sister and three daughters. He had 90 children in his 67 year reign. Eesh! The two Hittite queens were sisters, their mother was the queen of the Hittites, her name was Queen Puduhepa. She actually kept up some sort of corrospondance with Queen Nefertari, Ramses’ Great Wife. The letter she sent to Queen Nefartari was never found, but Nefartare’s message back to Queen Puduhepa was this:

“With me, your sister, all goes well; with my country all goes well. With you, my sister, may all go well; with your country may all go well. Behold now, I have noted that you, my sister, have written to me, to enquire after my well being. May the sun god and storm god bring you joy; and may the sun god cause the peace to be good and give good brotherhood to the great king, the king of Egypt, with his brother the great king, the king of Hatti, forever. And I am in friendship and sisterly relations with my sister the great queen of Hatti, now and forever.”

All that just to wish her well.Yikes! It’s kinda stiff and long, she should have just said:

“i’m good.thanx dude 4 the note,i hpe you hve peace,man.friends 4ever,The Great Queen of Egypt.”

That would have been much, much easier to understand!