The following text is taken from an account of the moments when the ship Titanic hit an iceberg in 1912. High in the crow's-nest of the new White Star liner, Titanic lookout Frederick Fleet peered into a dazzling night. It was calm, clear and bitterly cold. There was no moon, but the cloudless sky blazed with stars. The Atlantic was like polished plate glass. People later said they had never seen it so smooth. So far so good. On duty at ten o'clock... a few words about the ice problem with lookout Reginald Lee who shared the same watch... a few more words about the cold... but mostly just silence as the two men stared into the darkness. Now the watch was almost over, and still there was nothing unusual. Just the night, the stars, the biting cold, the wind that rushed through the rigging as the Titanic raced across the calm, black sea at 22.5 knots. It was almost 11.40pm on Sunday, 14th April 1912. Suddenly Fleet saw something directly ahead even darker than the darkness. At first it was small (about the size, he thought, of two tables put together) but every second it grew larger and closer. Quickly, Fleet banged the crow's-nest bell three times, the warning of danger ahead. At the same time he lifted the phone and rang the bridge.¹ 'What did you see?' asked a calm voice at the other end. 'Iceberg right ahead,' replied Fleet. 'Thank you,' acknowledged the voice with curiously detached courtesy. Nothing more said. For the next thirty-seven seconds Fleet and Lee stood quietly side by side watching the ice draw nearer. Now they were almost on top of it, and still the ship didn't turn. The berg towered wet and glistening far above the forecastle deck, and both men braced themselves for a crash. Then miraculously, the bow began to swing to port. At the last second the stern shot into the clear and the ice glided swiftly by along the starboard side. It looked to Fleet like a close shave. At this moment Quartermaster George Rowe was standing watch on the after bridge. For him too, it had been an uneventful night – just the sea, the stars, the biting cold. As he paced the deck, he noticed what he and his mates called 'whiskers round the light' – tiny splinters of ice in the air, fine as dust, that gave off myriads of bright colours whenever caught in the glow of the deck lights. Then suddenly he felt a curious motion break the steady rhythm of the engines. It was a little like coming alongside a dock wall rather heavily. He glanced forward and stared again. A windjammer,² sails set, seemed to be passing the starboard side. Then he realized it was an iceberg, towering perhaps a hundred feet above the water. The next instant it was gone, drifting astern into the dark. On this quiet, cold Sunday night a snug bunk seemed about the best place to be. But a few shipboard diehards were still up. As usual most were in the first-class smoking-room on A deck. Somebody produced a deck of cards, and as they sat playing and laughing, suddenly came that grinding jar. Not much of a shock but enough to give a man a start. In an instant... through the aft³ door... past the Palm Court... and out on to the deck. They were just in time to see the iceberg scraping along the starboard side, a little higher than the boat deck. As it slid by, they watched chunks of ice breaking off and tumbling into the water. In another moment it faded into the darkness astern. The creaking woodwork, the distant rhythm of the engines, the steady rattle of the glass dome over the A deck foyer – all the familiar shipboard sounds vanished as the Titanic came to a stop. Far more than any jolt, silence stirred the passengers. On deck there was little fun to be seen; nor was any sign of danger. For the most part the explorers wandered aimlessly about or stood by the rail, staring into the empty night for some clue to the trouble. The Titanic lay dead in the water, three of her four huge funnels blowing off steam with a roar that shattered the quiet, starlit night. Otherwise everything was normal. Towards the stern of the boat an elderly couple strolled arm in arm, oblivious of the roaring steam and the little knots of passengers roving about. It was so bitterly cold and there was so little to be seen, that most of the people came inside again. Mingling together, they made a curious picture. Their dress was an odd mixture of bathrobes, evening clothes, fur coats, turtle-neck sweaters. The setting was equally incongruous – the huge glass dome overhead... the dignified oak panelling... the magnificent balustrades with their wrought-iron scrollwork... and looking down on them all, an incredible wall clock adorned with two bronze nymphs, somehow symbolizing Honour and Glory crowning Time. ¹ bridge: a ship’s control centre ² windjammer: large, old-fashioned sailing ship ³ aft: rear