Thomas Andrews, Shipbuilder

V

We come back, then, to Andrews as Mr. Childers saw him on that day in the Yard – big, strong, inspiriting, full of enthusiasm and mastery – a genuine captain of industry there on the scene of his triumphs, yet revealing himself as modestly, we know, as any of the great army of workers under his direction.

Before attempting to give some further and completer account of the relations which existed between him and the Islanders, it may be well to give a letter written by Andrews in 1905 to a young relative then beginning work as an engineer: —

“I am sorry I did not get a shake of your fist, old chap, before leaving, just to wish you good luck at your business and a good time at —

“Please accept from me the enclosed small gift to go towards a little pocket-money.

“You are such a sensible boy I know that you require no advice from me, but as an old hand who has come through the mill myself I would just like to say how important it is for you to endeavour to give your employers full confidence in you from the start. This can best be gained:

“(1) By punctuality and close attention to your work at all times – but don’t allow your health to suffer through overwork.

“(2) Always carry out instructions given by those above you, whether you agree with them or not – and try to get instructions in writing if you are not sure of your man.

“(3) Always treat those above you with respect, no matter whether they are fools or know less than yourself.

“(4) Never give information unless you are perfectly sure, better to say you are not sure, but will look the matter up.

“(5) Never be anxious to show how quick you are by being the first out of the shop when the horn blows. It is better on these occasions to be a bit slow.

“Now this is a sermon by Thomas, but not one of your father’s – only that of an old cousin who has high expectations of you and is interested in your welfare.

“Goodbye and good luck.”

That little sermon by Thomas, with its admixture of shrewdness, wisdom, and kind-heartedness, may be taken as embodying the workaday rules of duty perfected by Andrews through a varied experience of sixteen years – rules doubtless as faithfully observed by himself as they were commended for the guidance of others. What may be called its horse sense, its blunt avowal of how to play the game, helps us towards a fuller understanding of the man, puts him in the plain light through which, every day in view of everyone, he passed. It shows us why he succeeded, why in any circumstances and irrespective almost of his higher qualities, he was bound to succeed. It explains, to some extent, what a workman meant in calling him “a born leader of men.” It helps us to understand why some called him a hard man and why he made a few enemies; helps us also to understand why the Islander who threatened to drop a bag of rivets on his head was treated with laughing amenity. What Andrews demanded of others he exacted in greater measure of himself. If at times he enforced his code of conduct with sternness, in that, as all who felt the weight of his hand would eventually acknowledge, he was but doing his plain duty. Did men skulk or scamp their job, they must be shown decisively that a shipyard was no place for them. Someone discovered asleep on a nine inch plank spanning an open ventilator must be taught discretion. But no bullying, no unfairness – above all, no show of malice.

If in Andrews’ nature was no trace of maliciousness, neither did there lurk in it any meanness. Not once, but a thousand times, during the past black months, has his character been summed with characteristic terseness by the Island shipwrights:

“Just as a judge… Straight as a die… There wasn’t a crooked turn in him”: simple phrases conveying a magnificent tribute. For what better in anyone can you have than the straightness of a die, whether you regard him as man or master? And such straightness in a shipbuilder is not that the supreme quality?

At all events this quality of absolute rectitude, so indispensable in other respects, was the main quality which, in their personal relations with him, won for Andrews the admiration and esteem of the Islanders. They could trust him. He would see fair play. “If he caught you doing wrong he wasn’t afraid to tell you so.” “If he found you breaking a rule he wouldn’t fire you straight away, but would give you the rough side of his tongue and a friendly caution.” “So long as one reported a mistake honestly he had consideration, but try to hide it away and he blazed at you.” “He had a grand eye for good work and a good man, and the man who did good work, no matter who he was, got a clap on the shoulder.” So the Islanders, this man and that; and then once more comes the crowning judgment on the tongue of so many, “He was straight as a die.”

But not that one quality alone gained for Andrews his great, one might say his unique, popularity in the Yard. His vast knowledge, his mastery of detail, his assiduity, his zest: all these merits had their due effect upon the men: and effective too was the desire he showed always to get the best possible out of every worker. It was not enough to do your job, he expected you to think about it: and if from your thinking resulted a suggestion it got his best consideration. It might be worthless – never mind, better luck next time; if it were worth a cent, he would make it shine in your eyes like a dollar.

In addition, were those more personal qualities – emanations, so to speak, of the man’s character: his generosity, kindliness, patience, geniality, humour, humility, courage, that great laugh of his, the winning smile, the fine breezy presence: of those also the men had constant and intimate experience. Anyone in trouble might be sure of his sympathy. After a spell of sickness his handshake and hearty greeting stirred new life in your blood. Once he found a great fellow ill-treating a small foreman who, for sufficient reason, had docked his wages; whereupon Andrews took off his coat and hammered the bully. During labour and party troubles, he several times, at risk of his life, saved men from the mob. One day, in a gale, he climbed an eighty foot staging, rescued the terrified man who had gone up to secure the loose boards, and himself did the work. Another day, he lent a hand to a shipwright toiling across the yard under a heavy beam, and as they went Andrews asked, “How is it, M‘Ilwaine, you always like to be beside me?” “Ah, sir,” was the reply, “it is because you carry up well.”

These incidents, chosen from so many, enable us to see why, in the words of the Island poet, “though Andrews was our master we loved him to a man.” He always carried up well, “stood four-square to all the winds that blow.” Too often, those in authority rule as tyrants, using power like some Juggernaut crushing under the beasts of burden. But Andrews, following the example of his uncle, preferred to rule beneficently as a man among his fellows.

“One evening,” writes Mrs. Andrews, “my husband and I were in the vicinity of Queen’s Island, and noticing a long file of men going home from work, he turned to me and said, ‘There go my pals, Nellie.’ I can never forget the tone in his voice as he said that, it was as though the men were as dear to him as his own brothers. Afterwards, on a similar occasion, I reminded him of the words, and he said, ‘Yes, and they are real pals too.’”

You see now why a colleague, Mr. Saxon Payne, secretary to Lord Pirrie, could write, “It was not a case of liking him, we all loved him”; and why during those awful days in April, when hope of good news at last had gone, the Yard was shrouded in gloom and rough men cried like women. They had lost a pal. And not they only. On both sides of the Atlantic, wherever men resort whose business is in the great waters, owners, commanders, directors, managers, architects, engineers, ships officers, stewards, sailors, the name Tom Andrews is honoured to-day as that of one whose remarkable combination of gifts claimed not only their admiration, but their affection.

“What we are to do without Andrews,” said a Belfast ship-owner, “I don’t know. He was probably the best man in the world for his job – knew everything – was ready for anything – could manage everyone – and what a friend! It’s irreparable. Surely of all men worth saving he ought to have been saved. Yes, saved by force, for only in that way could it have been done.”

Here, too, it may be mentioned that during his business career Andrews received many acknowledgements of a gratifying description from those whom in various ways he had served – amongst others from the White Star Company, the Hamburg American Company and, what I daresay he valued as much, from the stewards of the Olympic. Following the announcement of his marriage, a Committee was organised at the Yard for the purpose of showing him in a tangible way the esteem of the Islanders, but for business reasons, or perhaps feeling a delicacy in accepting a compliment without parallel in the history of the Yard, he whilst making it plain how much the kindly thought had moved him, felt constrained to ask the Committee to desist.

One may end this imperfect chapter with two more tributes, themselves without any great literary merit perhaps, yet testifying sincerely, one thinks, to the love which Andrews inspired in everyone.

Long ago, poor Doctor O’Loughlin wrote in collaboration with the Purser of the Oceanic some verses to be sung to the air Tommy Atkins. Doubtless they have been sung at ship’s mess on many a voyage, and perhaps have elsewhere been printed. One verse is given here:

“Neath a gantry high and mighty she had birth.And she’d bulk and length and height and mighty beam.And the world was only larger in its girthAnd she seemed to be a living moving dream.Then she rode so grandly o’er the seaThat she seemed a beauty decked in bright array.And the whistle sounded loudlyAs she sailed along so proudly,That we all cried out ‘She must be quite O.K.’Oh Tommy Tommy Andrews we are all so proud of you,And to say we have the finest ship that e’er was built is true.May your hand ne’er lose its cunning, we don’t care how winds may roarFor we know we have a frigate that can sail from shore to shore.”

The second tribute is taken from a Lament, written by the Island poet in the ballad form so popular in Ireland, and circulated widely in the Yard:

“A Queen’s Island Trojan, he worked to the last;Very proud we all feel of him here in Belfast;Our working-men knew him as one of the best —He stuck to his duty, and God gave him rest.”

VI

It remains, before giving account of the finest action of his life, to consider briefly, by way of rounding his portrait, what we may call Andrews’ outside aspect – the side, that is, he might turn to some Committee of Experts sitting in solemn judgment upon him as a possible candidate for political honours.

That side, it may be said at once, is singularly unpretentious; and indeed when we think of his absorption, heart and soul, in what he knew for him was best, who could expect, or wish, it to be otherwise? In Ulster, heaven knows, are publicists galore, and sufficient men too willing to down tools at any outside horn-blow, that we should the less admire one who spoke only once in public, took no open part in politics, and was not even a strong party-man. He was, however, a member of the Ulster Reform Club. Twice he was pressed to accept the presidency of Unionist Clubs. Frequently he was urged to permit his nomination for election to the City Council. The Belfast Harbour Board shared the opinion of one of its leading members that “his youthful vigour, his undoubted ability, and his genial personality, would have made him an acquisition to this important Board.” His fellow-directors, in a resolution of condolence, expressed their feeling that “not only had the Firm lost a valued and promising leader, but the city an upright and capable citizen, who, had he lived, would have taken a still more conspicuous place in the industrial and commercial world.” Even in the south, where admiration of Northerners is not commonly fervent, it was admitted by many that in Andrews Ulster had at last found the makings of a leader.

From such straws, blown in so prevailing a wind, we may determine the estimation in which Andrews, as a prospective citizen, stood amongst those who knew him and their own needs the best; and also perhaps may roughly calculate the possibilities of that future which he himself, in stray minutes of leisure, may have anticipated. But some there will be doubtless whose admiration of Andrews is the finer because he kept the path of his career straight to its course without any deviation to enticing havens.

Such a man, however, the son of such a father, could not fail to have views on the burning topics of his time, and no estimate of him would be complete which gave these no heed.

He was, we are told, an Imperialist, loving peace and consequently in favour of an unchallengeable Navy. He was a firm Unionist, being convinced that Home Rule would spell financial ruin to Ireland, through the partial loss of British credit, and of the security derived from connection with a strong and prosperous partner. At times he was known to express disapproval of the policy adopted by those Irish Unionists who strove to influence British electors by appeals to passion rather than by means of reasoned argument. Also he felt that Ireland would never be happy and prosperous until agitation ceased and promise of security were offered to the investing capitalist.

Though no believer in modern cities, he was of opinion that an effort should be made to expand and stimulate Irish village life, it seeming to him that a country dependent solely on agriculture was like a man fighting the battle of life with one hand. Were, however, an approved system of agriculture, such as that advocated by Sir Horace Plunkett, joined with a considered scheme of town and village industries, he believed that emigration would cease and Ireland find prosperity.

To the practical application of Tariff Reform he saw many difficulties, but thought them not insuperable. In view of the needs of a world-wide and growing Empire, “the necessity of preserving British work for British people,” and the injury done to home trade by the unfair competition of protected countries, he judged that the duties upon imported necessities should be materially reduced and a counterbalancing tax levied on all articles of foreign manufacture.

He advocated moderate Social reform on lines carefully designed to encourage thrift, temperance and endeavour; and as one prime means towards improving the condition, both moral and physical, of the workers he would have the State, either directly or through local authorities, provide them with decent homes.

To the consideration of Labour problems, particularly those coming within the scope of his own experience, he gave much thought; and when it is considered that his great popularity with all classes held steady through the recent period of industrial unrest, we may judge that his attitude towards Labour, in the mass as in the unit, was no mere personal expression of friendliness. As his real pals he wanted to help the workers, educate and lift them. Other things being equal, he always favoured the men who used their heads as well as their hands; and if in the management of their own affairs they used their heads, then also, so much the better for all concerned. He considered that both in the interests of men and masters, it was well for Labour to be organized under capable leaders; but honest agreements should, he thought, be binding on both sides and not liable to governmental interference. Politicians and others should in their public utterances, he felt, endeavour to educate the workers in the principles of economics relative to trade, wages and the relations between capital and labour; but publicists who, for party or like reasons, strove to foster class hatreds and strifes he would hang by the heels from a gantry.

Where economically possible, the working day should, he thought, be shortened, especially the day of all toiling in arduous and unwholesome conditions. Similarly he was disposed to favour, when economically possible, encouragement of the workers by means of a system of profit sharing. He would, furthermore, give them every facility for technical education, but such he knew from experience was of little value unless supplemented by thorough practical knowledge gained in the workshop.

These views and opinions, whatever their intrinsic value in the eyes of experts, are at least interesting. Sooner or later, had Andrews lived, he would perhaps have made them the basis of public pronouncements; and then indeed might his abounding energy, applied in new and luring directions, have carried him to heights of citizenship.

VII

Happily, there is no need in these pages to attempt any minute estimate of the share Andrews had in building the Titanic. Such a task, were it feasible, would offer difficulties no less testing than those met courageously by half the world’s journalists when attempting to describe the wonders of that ill-fated vessel – her length that of a suburban street, her height the equivalent of a seventeen story building, her elevator cars coursing up and down as through a city hotel, her millionaire suites, her luxuries of squash racquet courts, Turkish and electric bath establishments, salt water swimming pools, glass enclosed sun parlours, verandah cafés, and all. Probably no one man, was solely responsible for the beautiful thing. She was an evolution rather than a creation, triumphant product of numberless experiments, a perfection embodying who knows what endeavour, from this a little, from that a little more, of human brain and hand and imagination. How many ships were built, how many lost; how many men lived, wrought, and died that the Titanic might be?

So much being said, it may however be said further, that to her building Andrews gave as much of himself as did any other man. All his experience of ships, gained in the yards, on voyages, by long study, was in her; all his deep knowledge, too, gathered during twenty years and now applied in a crowning effort with an ardour that never flagged. It was by the Titanic, “her vast shape slowly assuming the beauty and symmetry which are but a memory to-day,” that Mr. Childers met Andrews and noted in him those qualities of zest, vigour, power and simplicity, which impressed him deeply. Yet Andrews then was no whit more enthusiastic, we feel sure, than on any other day of the great ship’s fashioning, from the time of her conception slowly down through the long process of calculating, planning, designing, building, fitting, until at last she sailed proudly away to the applause of half the world. Whatever share others had in her, his at least cannot be gainsaid. As Lord Pirrie’s Assistant he had done his part by way of shaping into tangible form the projects of her owners. As Chief Designer and Naval Architect he planned her complete. As Managing Director he saw her grow up, frame by frame, plate by plate, day after day throughout more than two years; watched her grow as a father watches his child grow, assiduously, minutely, and with much the same feelings of parental pride and affection. For Andrews this was his ship, whatever his hand in her: and in that she was “efficiently designed and constructed” as is now established3 his fame as a Shipbuilder may well rest. As surely none other did, he knew her inside and out, her every turn and art, the power and beauty of her, from keel to truck – knew her to the last rivet. And because he knew the great ship so well, as a father knows the child born to him, therefore to lose her was heartbreak.

On Tuesday morning, April 2nd, 1912, at 6 a.m., the Titanic left Belfast, in ideal weather, and was towed down Channel to complete her trials. On board was Andrews, representing the Firm. Her compasses being adjusted, the ship steamed towards the Isle of Man, and after a satisfactory run returned to the Lough about 6 p.m. Throughout the whole day Andrews was busy, receiving representatives of the owners, inspecting and superintending the work of internal completion, and taking notes. “Just a line,” he wrote to Mrs. Andrews, “to let you know that we got away this morning in fine style and have had a very satisfactory trial. We are getting more ship-shape every hour, but there is still a great deal to be done.”

Having received letters and transferred workmen, the ship left immediately for Southampton, Andrews still on board and with him, amongst others, the eight brave men from the Island Yard who perished with him. They were:

William Henry Marsh Parr, Assistant Manager Electrical Department.

Roderick Chisholm, Ships’ Draughtsman.

Anthony W. Frost, Outside Foreman Engineer.

Robert Knight, Leading Hand Engineer.

William Campbell, Joiner Apprentice.

Alfred Fleming Cunningham, Fitter Apprentice.

Frank Parkes, Plumber Apprentice.

Ennis Hastings Watson, Electrician Apprentice.

During the whole of Wednesday, the 3rd, until midnight, when the ship arrived at Southampton, Andrews was ceaselessly employed going round with representatives of the owners and of the Firm, in taking notes and preparing reports of work still to be done. All the next day, from an early hour, he spent with managers and foremen putting work in hand.

In the evening he wrote to Mrs. Andrews: “I wired you this morning of our safe arrival after a very satisfactory trip. The weather was good and everyone most pleasant. I think the ship will clean up all right before sailing on Wednesday”: and then he mentions that the doctors refused to allow Lord Pirrie to make the maiden voyage.

Thereafter from day to day, until the date of sailing, he was always busy, taking the owners round ship, interviewing engineers, officials, agents, managers, sub-contractors, discussing with principals the plans of new ships, and superintending generally the work of completion.

“Through the various days that the vessel lay at Southampton,” writes his Secretary, Mr. Thompson Hamilton, “Mr. Andrews was never for a moment idle. He generally left his hotel about 8.30 for the offices, where he dealt with his correspondence, then went on board until 6.30, when he would return to the offices to sign letters. During the day I took to the ship any urgent papers and he always dealt with them no matter what his business.” Nothing he allowed to interfere with duty. He was conscientious to the minutest detail. “He would himself put in their place such things as racks, tables, chairs, berth ladders, electric fans, saving that except he saw everything right he could not be satisfied.”

One of the last letters he wrote records serious trouble with the restaurant galley hot press, and directs attention to a design for reducing the number of screws in stateroom hat hooks.

Another of earlier date, in the midst of technicalities about cofferdams and submerged cylinders on the propeller boss, expresses agreement with the owner that the colouring of the pebble dashing on the private promenade decks was too dark, and notes a plan for staining green the wicker furniture on one side of the vessel.

Withal, his thought for others never failed. Now he is arranging for a party to view the ship; now writing to a colleague, “I have always in mind a week’s holiday due to you from last summer and shall be glad if you will make arrangements to take these on my return, as, although you may not desire to have them, I feel sure that a week’s rest will do you good.”

On the evening of Sunday, the 7th, he wrote to Mrs. Andrews giving her news of his movements and dwelling upon the plans he had in mind for the future.

On the 9th he wrote: “The Titanic is now about complete and will I think do the old Firm credit to-morrow when we sail.”

On the 10th he was aboard at 6 o’clock, and thence until the hour of sailing he spent in a long final inspection of the ship. She pleased him. The old Firm was sure of its credit. Just before the moorings were cast off he bade goodbye to Mr. Hamilton and the other officials. He seemed in excellent health and spirits. His last words were, “Remember now and keep Mrs. Andrews informed of any news of the vessel.”

The Titanic, carrying 2,201 souls, left Southampton punctually at noon on April 10th. There was no departure ceremony. On her way from dock she passed the Majestic and the Philadelphia, both giants of twenty years ago and now by contrast with Leviathan humbled to the stature of dwarfs. About a mile down the water she passed Test Quay, where the Oceanic and the New York lay berthed. Her wash caused the New York to break her moorings and drift into the Channel. As the Titanic was going dead slow danger of a collision was soon averted, “but,” as Andrews wrote that evening, “the situation was decidedly unpleasant.”