him through the lower grades and tried him for ten years or such matter…. It takes them about ten or fifteen years to manufacture a captain; but when they have him manufactured to suit at last they have full confidence in him. The only order they give a captain is this, brief and to the point: ‘Your ship is loaded, take her; speed is nothing; follow your own road, deliver her safe, bring her back safe—safety is all that is required.” Arthur Rostron’s career demonstrated the truth of Twain’s remarks; in fact, it would eventually demonstrate the wisdom of Cunard’s methods.
He served on various vessels, including Campania , Etruria , Ivernia , Pannonia , Saxonia , Servia , and Ultonia, the only break in his service coming in 1905 when, as an officer of the Royal Naval Reserve, Rostron was obliged to temporarily serve in the British Navy during the Russo-Japanese War. He worked his way up the ranks until September 1907, when he was named as First Officer of the shiny new Lusitania , then the largest and, it was hoped, fastest ship yet to be built. He held this post all through her sea-trials, which were the most extensive ever conducted for a passenger liner up to that time. It was with some surprise then that he received the news, the day before the Lusitania departed Liverpool on her maiden voyage, that he was being taken off her bridge; but the surprise was a pleasant one, for Rostron was informed that he was being given his first command, the cargo ship Brescia . Then in quick succession, he commanded the Ivernia , Pavonia , Pannonia, and Saxonia.
There is a temptation among some maritime historians to anticipate events and overplay the regard in which Arthur Rostron was held within Cunard before April 1912. What is unquestionable, however, is that he was a conscientious officer who was respected by his peers and crews alike. He was known throughout the company as “the Electric Spark” for his decisiveness and boundless, infectious energy. He was also noted for his piety; he neither smoked nor drank, was never heard to use profanity, and in a day and age when recourse to the Almighty was not regarded as quaint or a sign of weak-mindedness, was known to turn to prayer for guidance.
He took command of the Carpathia on January 18, 1912, and took her to New York for the first time a week later. For the next four months the Carpathia plied her regular service between New York and Fiume. While on her westbound crossings the Carpathia would usually be heavy with immigrants in Third Class but relatively few passengers in First or Second Class, while on her eastbound passages she was usually carrying Americans on holiday, calling at the ports of Europe or visiting the Mediterranean, so that much of Third Class would be sitting empty. Consequently it was hardly surprising when, on April 11, 1912, the Carpathia pulled away from Cunard’s Pier 54, into the Hudson River and out of New York harbor with 125 First Class passengers aboard, 65 in Second Class, and 550 Third Class passengers rattling about in a space designed for four times that number.
Captain Rostron was once heard to comment that all Cunard ships had three sides—port, starboard, and social, and that the captain must be the master of all of them. The years of the Edwardian Era were when ships’ captains came to the fore: while their social standing had been rising for decades, they were now approaching the pinnacle of their power and fame. A popular captain who gained a reputation for being a good host, an entertaining storyteller, and a discerning social arbiter quickly attracted a loyal coterie of passengers, almost invariably wealthy and socially prominent, who would follow him from ship to ship, or if he preferred to stay with one vessel, as did many Cunard captains, they would travel exclusively on that ship. Both for the money they spent and the attention they attracted, these recurring entourages were worth their weight in gold to Cunard.
Not