ROBERTSTOWN MAN ON THE “LUSITANIA”
Kildare Observer 29 May 1915
ROBERTSTOWN MAN ON THE “LUSITANIA”
STORY OF HIS EXPERIENCES
A FORTY FEET JUMP FOR LIFE
Amongst the survivors of the Lusitania disaster was a young man named Thomas M’ Cormack, a native of Robertstown, who arrived at Cooleragh, near Blackwood last week, where he now resides with his relatives, and showing little signs of the terrible ordeal he had passed through.
When I called on him to hear his story on Tuesday, writes our representative, I found him engaged in carting turf from the bog for his uncle.
Starting with his narrative, Mr. M’Cormack said he had been about two years in the United States and decided to come home, booking on the Lusitania, as in ordinary times. Before leaving he was not aware of any threat on the part of the Germans to sink the ship. He saw no placards in New York, and although he had seen the daily papers for a week before he left he noticed no published warning. The first he heard of submarines was on the Wednesday preceding the disaster, when he saw the ship’s life boats being hung out over the sides. He inquired of a sailor the reason for this, and was told it was done so as to be prepared for attacks coming near England, and also that there was no cause for alarm, as it was done on all trips then.
Coming to the eventual day, he said they sighted land about 11 a.m., and they were beginning to consider themselves safe. He was walking on the main deck about two o’clock when he heard the two bangs. They were not very much, he added, and he did not know what was wrong till he notice the ship heading over to starboard and saw a bit of a panic with people tumbling over one another running for life belts. He also went to procure his belt, but as he was travelling third class, his berth was situated three flights of stairs below, and before he had descended more than half way he found himself knee-deep in water. He returned to the deck to find the ship was almost on its side with the bow dipped low and the stern high in the air. The boats were being lowered and large numbers of people were standing around. No life belt was available, but fearing an explosion and the suction of the vessel he decided to jump. Jumping from the side which the deck was nearest the water, he said, meant certain death because it was becoming a howling mass of human beings clinging to one another in groups, “and you know.” He added. “If a drowning person catches hold of you and you have no life belt it is all up.” Continuing, he said he had no friend or chum with him. He knew no one on the boat and made no acquaintances. It was merely up to him to devise a plan to save his own life, and he was powerless to do more. He scrambled up toward the stern, the deck being now almost perpendicular with the stern towering upwards of 40 feet in the air. Divesting himself of coat, vest and boots, he made the fateful jump, diving to an awful depth. On rising to the surface he started swimming away from the ship, and got to a distance of about four or five perches when she disappeared. Then came the explosion, which was dreadful, water and wreckage being hurled high in the air. After a short time he came upon something like a trunk, but this capsized and was near drowning him. He kept afloat for about an hour and a quarter, when he saw about half a dozen life belts floating about, and donning one of these survived the ordeal till rescued about 6 p.m. by a trawler called, he thought, “The Indian Empire.” He pulled himself onto the trawler by means of a rope, his hands still showing traces of the injuries thus received. On reaching the deck he fell, having temporarily lost the power of his legs. This boat, he said picked up a large number of people wearing life belts, but many of them died before reaching Queenstown. While in the water he also saw many dead bodies of children floating about. On arriving at Queenstown, he said the survivors were very kindly treated.
Questioned, he said he learned to swim when a child in the canal, and then spent most of his time in the water in the summer months. While employed as a boat man later with the Canal Co. he once succeeded in swimming across the Shannon.
As to his loss, he said £75 in notes and all his belongings, including a new suit of clothes and a valuable watch, went to the bottom of the sea. He had saved a good sum while working on the canal before emigrating, that which he had lost representing portion of his total savings, the remainder being safely banked in Boston.
An interesting fact which transpired in further conversation with Mr. M’Cormack was that he was one of the crew of the string of boats of one of which a Robertsown man named Weir lost his life in the Shannon a few years ago, the boats drifting 40 perches before they could be stopped. He also stated that on the trip from America he saw people throwing wreaths and flowers into the sea, and on asking the reason was told that they were passing over the “Titanic.”
Re-typed by Lynn Potts
