The Other Side of the Night by Daniel Allen Butler

amount of ice that broke off the Greenland glacier, as well as the pack ice which drifted down from the Arctic icecap on the Labrador current, was much greater than ususal. It also meant that because of the sheer volume of ice drifting down from the north, the resulting ice fields would stretch much farther south than usual.
    It was 9:00 a.m. on the morning of April 14 when Evans took down a report from the Cunard liner Caronia that told of “bergs, growlers, and field ice at 42N, from 49 to 51W.” It was a general report, not addressed to any specific ship, but Evans thought it important enough to take up to the bridge immediately. At twenty minutes before noon, the Dutch liner Noordam reported ice in much the same area, and at 1:42 p.m. a message from the Baltic was picked up which read: “Icebergs and large quantity of field ice in 41.51 N 49.9 W.” This one, too, went straight up to the bridge. A few minutes later the Amerika , a German ship, sent a warning about ice, mentioning that she had passed two large bergs at 41.27 N, 50.8 W.
    The Californian made her own ice sighting later that afternoon. Just after 5:00 p.m., Third Officer Groves came up to the bridge to briefly relieve Chief Officer Stewart, who customarily took his dinner with Captain Lord. Groves found both Stewart and Lord on the bridge, scanning the horizon. About five miles to the south, three large bergs could be clearly seen, but no other ice was in sight. After a few moments, Lord and Stewart went below, the Chief Officer making a brief detour to the wireless office to instruct Evans to send out a message about the ice just spotted.
    Evans tapped out the warning of his own at 6:30 p.m., when he signaled the Antillian , Captain Lord’s old command, to tell her of the icebergs, giving the Californian ’s position as 42.5 N, 49.9 W. An hour later he contacted the new White Star liner Titanic to inform her of “three large bergs five miles to southward of us,” at 42.3 N, 49.9 W. Not long after that, yet another message arrived, this one from the Atlantic Transport liner Mesaba . She had sent out a detailed warning, reading, “Lat. 42 N to 41.25 N, Longitude 40 W to 50.30 W, saw much heavy pack ice and great number large icebergs, also field ice.”
    Evans’ key went quiet again as he spent the next few hours listening to the traffic passing between other ships, as well as that being sent to and from Cape Race in Nova Scotia, which was just coming into range of the Californian . Quite a bit of it seemed to be coming from the Titanic , Evans noted, much of it paid, personal messages from passengers to friends and family ashore. Some of it seemed extraordinarily frivolous, one message reading, “NO SEASICKNESS. ALL WELL. NOTIFY ALL INTERESTED. POKER BUSINESS GOOD. AL.” Evans could only marvel at the idea of having enough money to waste on sending such trivia.
    At 8:00 p.m. Third Officer Groves returned to the bridge to take over the watch from the Chief Officer. Stewart relayed the gist of the wireless messages which had been received during the day, and then stood by for about a quarter-hour while Groves’ eyes adjusted to the darkness before turning in. The Captain came to the bridge some time later, warning Groves “to keep a sharp lookout for this ice” and reminding him that extra lookouts had been posted far forward, at the extreme bow of the ship, a section known as the “eyes.”
    The night was extraordinarily clear, with the stars remarkably bright and distinct, and while there was no moon, visibility was excellent. The sea was unusually calm. And it was cold — by 10:00 p.m. the air temperature was down to 24 degrees Fahrenheit. The Californian continued steaming along at 11 knots on a course of S. 89 W. until a few minutes after 10:00 p.m., when Third Officer Groves spotted several small, white patches in the water dead ahead of the ship. Turning to Captain Lord, he remarked that it looked as if the Californian had encountered a