A TRIBUTE TO A LIFE AT SEA : That Moody Guy
Writing by : Topolino
Dear reader, are you someone who likes to tell stories? Do you like to weave such tales with the traditional pencil, pen, and paper? Or, for those who prefer it, the digital route? Mayhaps you enjoy drawing scenes as they come to you? Indeed, this is something we all do to prepare each year for the development of our characters, and lore for Titanic-Voyage. But, are you aware of one particular individual who enjoyed writing short stories, who was actually on the ill-fated ship?
Have I piqued your interest? Hopefully so!
Anywho, where was I… Ah, yes! A budding writer with talent, who never published, who also happened to be the Sixth Officer of the RMS Titanic of the White Star Line. I think everyone who has gotten this far knows who I am referring to, yes? Perhaps I should stop this beating ‘round the bush and get to it!
Articles written about those who boarded the RMS Titanic are a dime-a-dozen! That being said, we still write about them, fascinated by their life stories, what they did during the crossing and after, if they were one of the lucky ones who survived or perished during that frigid, April night. James Paul Moody is just one of these many, many personalities.
Now, it should be noted that there is quite a lot to unpack! However, I hope that you will join me for the deep dive into the life of this fascinating man who is in the eyes of many an unsung hero who sacrificed his own life to save the lives of many others.
Scarborough : Birthplace of a Hero
Scarborough of North Yorkshire, England… A charming resort town, and if Icelandic sagas are to be believed, was once called Skarðaborg — but let’s not segue of course! Aside from that errant tid-bit, it is known as the largest sea-side resort on the Yorkshire coast, as well as the largest sea-side town in North Yorkshire. Populated by beautiful architecture, Scarborough is one of many towns along the English coast that once upon a time was frequented by locals and tourists alike. Though much has unfortunately changed, Scarborough still possesses an old-world charm, compared to other towns which have entirely lost it. And, despite German bombardment during the Great War and architectural loss, this charm is still evident.
While doing research for this article, and being the nerd I am (aren’t we all), I found myself taking a dive into Scarborough’s rich, architectural history. Being a resort town, there were quite a number of hotels that once dominated the town’s landscape. For example, there was the Pavilion Hotel which was located right outside of the still-extant Scarborough Railway Station, among others. This particular hotel as one can see below drawfed this part of Scarborough’s skyline. Today a modern, and uninspiring structure sits in its place… Such is the way of “progress.”
The Moody Family Saga : Civic Service and Medicine
The Moodys were a family known through-out Scarborough, having been members of the town for several generations. John James Paul Moody (1814–1878), James’ grandfather held the title of Town Clerk during his life-time — which is a big deal in civic affairs. For those of you who aren’t immediately aware of what a town clerk’s duties are, here is some very useful information in the form of an excerpt from the website of the Aylesbury Town Council on the specifics of said role;
- The office of town clerk is an important part of the machinery of local government.
- He may be said to stand between the local Council and the ratepayers.
- He is there to assist by his advice and action the conduct of public affairs in the borough and, if there is a disposition on the part of the council, still more on the part of any member of the council, to ride roughshod over his opinions, the question must at once arise as to whether it is not his duty forthwith to resign his office or, at any rate, to do what he thinks right and await the consequences. (Aylesbury Town Council).
This prominent position was held by his grandfather for over 30 years. In fact, if one were to pay a visit to Scarborough’s Town Hall today, they would see that his portrait hangs on a wall there — a testament to his numerous contributions to the town of Scarborough at large, which can still be seen today.
Aside from James’ grandfather, his great uncle also followed this path, along with the field of medicine. Charles Bartholomew Moody (1816–1895), was a doctor who was very well-off, being incredibly active in his hometown — Grimsby, a port town and the administrative centre of North East Lincolnshire. He was not only active in the town’s civil affairs, he also was the first coroner and for a short period the mayor (1855–1856).
James’ grandfather also hailed from Grimsby, but relocated in 1845 to Scarborough. After having moved there, he became an active member of Scarborian society, overseeing many civic events which were part of a large expansion in the town such as the building of the Crown Hotel (today the Crown Spa Hotel) and the church, which his grandson would later be baptised in as an Anglican. Said church, St. Martin On-The-Hill, built between 1862–1863 from designs of the architect George Frederick Bodley still stands today and is only about a 9 minute walk from his childhood home on Granville Road in South Cliff.
Now! Before we really begin to delve into the life of RMS Titanic’s Sixth Officer, you dear reader should take note of the following;
There is not much known about his family in the way of personal relationships versus the information about his ancestors, not publicly-available at-least. Of course, if one is to be completely honest, this makes a world of sense. Many of the survivor’s and victim’s families have kept information about their loved ones under lock-and-key. Which, again is completely understandable. Despite being a hero in a disaster which helped shape modern safety standards at sea, James Paul Moody was like what most people would like to be, a private individual. Because really, why would anyone want to have notoriety? But I digress. Moving along!
James Paul Moody : The Early Years
His story officially begins at №17 Granville Road in South Cliff, Scarborough, on 21 August, 1887. The youngest child of four, the future and fated Sixth Officer of the RMS Titanic was born to John Henry Moody, a successful solicitor and his mother, Evelyn Louisa (née Lammin), the daughter of Thomas Henry Lammin of Fulham, Middlesex who also worked as a solicitor. As mentioned there were four children, three boys and one girl; John E. Moody (1882), Margaret Moody (1883), Christopher W. Moody (1886), and of course, James.
Growing up amongst his elder siblings, James cemented his closest relationships with his brother Christopher and sister Margaret. The eldest brother, John was living overseas and as Inger Sheil states “the two rarely caught up.” (Inger Sheil, Encyclopedia Titanica — 8 February, 2009). Of his parents, it is known that he shared a particularly close bond with his mother, whom when she suddenly died in 1898, the 11 year-old James was deeply affected by this tragedy as any child would be.
Heart-broken as he was, James took it upon himself to try and write on each anniversary of his mother’s death to the relative he had been staying with when she passed — of which he did so with great feeling and emotion. This was in effect James’ way of dealing with his own personal grief.
However, as if this was not painful enough, he was dealt another blow, which was just as personal. Not very long after, his father remarried and sired four more children in quick succession. For any child, especially at such a young age, this can be taken in so many ways — not least of all emotionally damaging, as at the age of 11, children are in a highly-emotional space of personal growth and development, especially mentally. Suffice to say, the loss of his mother, compounded with his father’s remarrying, just after his wife’s death did not make it easy for him, growing up… Sadly, situations like this were not uncommon back then, and they still happen even today.
Boyhood : Schooling, Sports and a Career Path
After his wife’s death, John Moody, Sr moved James and his siblings to Clayton in Yorkshire where, after a period and having remarried, Inger Sheil points out that his father “by 1903 had largely left the care of his youngest son to other family members.” (Inger Sheil, Encyclopedia Titanica — 8 February, 2009).
It’s interesting to note that during the period of uncertainty following the immediate foundering of the RMS Titanic in mid-April of 1912, that his father did for many days continue to seek out news of his son — hoping that he was among those who had been rescued.
Going back however, he as mentioned grew up, being mostly raised by other relatives. His father in 1901 was written down as widowed, living in Clayton with his two youngest sons, Christopher and James — though as it was mentioned above, their father had remarried and by 1903 his second step-brother John Paul Moody had been born. Schooling of course was a distraction, as it is for all children. As such, James attended the Roseberry Preparatory School, at Fulford Road in Scarborough. In “Bridge Duty, Officers of the RMS Titanic,” written by Inger Sheil and Kerri Sundberg, they explain how there was no indication of a career at sea for him at the start;
“Nothing at the outset marked him for a career at sea. His family background was solidly middle class professional, with strong links to the practices of law and medicine. Law, in particular, was the province of the Moodys, and John Henry was a solicitor. The Moodys had hailed from Grimsby, to the south in Lincolnshire, and the Scarborough offshoot of the family had been established by James’ grandfather, who became clerk of the town.” (Inger Sheil, Kerri Sundberg, 1999).
Whilst at school, James, like his father, enjoyed the sport of cricketing. Cricket, if you didn’t know has been a popular past-time for ages — the ball-and-bat sport still frequented amongst players today! In fact there was in First-Class a passenger who was also keen on the sport; Mr John Borland Thayer II of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Mr Thayer was the second vice-president of the Pennsylvania Railroad Company and boarded at Southampton with his wife and son, bearing witness to the near-collision with the SS New York as the RMS Titanic was making its way down the River Test. Like James, Mr Thayer perished in the sinking.
The Conway Years : 1902–1903
After schooling, James left Scarborough in 1902 at the age of 14 to join the naval training school or “school ship” HMS Conway as a cadet to become a ship’s officer. Built nearly 50 years before his birth, this Conway-class corvette, was the third ship to bear the name. Originally named the HMS Nile, the two-decker, 90-gunned second-rate ship of the line was launched at Plymouth Dockyard in 1839, given her name in commemoration of the Battle of the Nile (1798). With help from Inger Sheil, we now know why he joined this program of training;
“It wasn’t his profession by choice — it was decided by his relatives that sending him to HMS Conway would be a good way of finishing his education and providing him with a career. His closest living relative has expressed the opinion that, even if he had not been involved in the Titanic sinking, he would not have remained at sea.” (Inger Sheil, Encyclopedia Titanica — 16 January, 2009).
From the memorial website “HMS Conway,” one can find all manner of tid-bits and such on the Conway-class (1859–1974), including a roster of all the cadets who had been on her. James started out as one of these “special breed of men,” and from 1902 — 1903 learned the theory and practise of sail, which amounted to one year at sea — counting towards his Board of Trade Second Mate’s Certification (a total of 4 years experience was required to apply).
A Young Apprentice : The “Boa” Experience
On 24 February, 1904, James signed on as an apprentice for three years on the “Boadicea” of the William Thomas Line which had been acquired by the in 1902. On this voyage were Captain Morris Jones, along with the First Mate, John Daniels and Second Mate K. Lovold. In Inger’s gripping article on the voyage, “All the Horrors Seem to Happen at Night,” there is a wealth of information on the ship, and the events which transpired;
“The vessel officially sailed with six apprentices, the oldest of these, Charles Humphreys, having nearly completed his sea time. While waiting to sit his examinations he functioned as Third Mate. Another apprentice, John Marshall, had joined the vessel a year and a half previously and held seniority among the apprentices. Thomas Legg, Frank Haywood, Bernard Doubleday and James Moody, all similar in age, joined in late February. Doubleday hailed from Grimsby, where Moody’s family lived, and the two signed on together on February 24.” (Inger Sheil, encyclopedia-titanica.org — August 2005).
The work was not for the faint of heart, and James proved himself willingly and ablely, his year-long period with the HMS Conway helping him, naturally. Cadets from the HMS Conway were high in demand, and because of the payment of his indentured bond — there had been no trouble in placing him. So, after a Christmas spent with his family he then returned to Liverpool where after a brief stint of staying at the local Sailors’ Home — he would join with his mates on the “Boa” as she was known to her crew.
When the ship left from Mersey, it was not a sad departure. More so it was a festive one! James (16 years-old then) wrote in his first letter home that “We gave them 3 cheers as the last mooring rope was cast off, and then dipped the ensign 3 times.” (1904–1912 Correspondence of James Paul Moody).
Prior to what would be James’ first Atlantic crossing, he had been to tea with the local clergyman who visited the “Conway boys,” as well as, been seen off by his family and friends from the Sailor’s Home. As the “Boa” departed, James wouldn’t see England again for more than a year.
The first few weeks saw as James wrote “splendid” weather. Despite this brief period of good weather, 3 of the 5 apprentices, including James (“Jim” by his mates) had taken to intense seasickness. Even in his situation, James found pride in the fact that he could manage things even while dealing with mal de mer and wrote that “I managed to keep on deck all my watches above, and was first of 3 to get better.” (1904–1912 Correspondence of James Paul Moody).
However, not everyone easily bounced back. Frank Haywood, referred to as a “poor ninny” by James in his letters, had a very difficult time fitting in. Not only this, but he also felt homesick. As if that wasn’t enough, he unfortunately caught the eye of a bully. James noticed this, and in his letters wrote that “I’m sure we all and all hands give him a fairly warm time to cheer him up.” (1904–1912 Correspondence of James Paul Moody).
Unlike Frank, James was far more resilient to bullying, and the hardships the Boadicea would face on this arduous voyage. Likeable, charming and engaging, he made friends with everyone, including the steward, as he wrote “which I find pays!” As a growing, and hungry boy, being friendly with the steward meant regular meals! However, the cuisine of the “Boa” was not what most of the passengers on a grand steamer would have ingested. James however took this in stride, writing back home that he had “started salt pork and beef which are not half as bad as I expected.” (1904–1912 Correspondence of James Paul Moody).
As mentioned, the good weather didn’t last and on 25 March, which was a Friday — rain and wind began to pick up. Despite the deteriorating weather, James continued to push through. With John Marshall, he set about tying ropes quickly. On 27 March, he wrote that they all hoped to reach New York in less than 16 days. However, James for a month did not write, having experienced a hellish storm. Once able, he wrote that “Since I wrote on the other side of this five weeks ago, we have not had a single day’s fair wind, which means we have been going north and south nearly all the time instead of west. When I last wrote we were about 1,000 miles from land but after that we went back nearly to the west of Ireland. About 10 days out from Dunkerque it started to get stormy and we have only had about 3 days and nights since without having to wear oilskins!” (1904–1912 Correspondence of James Paul Moody).
During the first three days of the storm, James described how the “Boa” had lost three of her sails, and that “It was an awful sight to see the great masses of canvas and rope rip up like silk with a noise like a train rushing through a tunnel.” (1904–1912 Correspondence of James Paul Moody).
All hands were needed on deck and of course, the apprentices were not spared. James proved yet again that he had what it took, his training on the HMS Conway helping him trudge forward, as the seas pitched the ship left and right — even nearly capsizing them, which he wrote that “I shall never forget the first time I went up with the second voyage apprentice and about 10 men to take in the main sail. Oilskin suit and heavy sea boots on as well, and the mast swaying till the end nearly touched the water.” (1904–1912 Correspondence of James Paul Moody).
As the storm raged on, James wrote vividly of his experiences on-board. He described the general mess of the situation which just didn’t seem to let up, writing that it was “like an avalanche, sweeping everything away.” He went further, writing how it was sheer hell for them all — and really who could blame him? Being knocked off your feet by waves as he described in the following excerpt from a letter; “… crash like a ton of bricks right into the scuppers with a white wave and perhaps 5 or 6 men on top of you.” (1904–1912 Correspondence of James Paul Moody).
However, the Atlantic was not ready to give up. One night in particular, 10 April reared, and as James aptly described it, “an awful night.” During that night, Able seaman, Victor Benninghaus fell from the foreyard, and what transpired next is something not for the faint of heart.
James helped in retrieving the “crushed to bits” body of Victor Benninghaus, describing with gruesome detail that “I felt one part of his skull grate against another!” While the man’s body was taken inside, James was sent to work in the same yard, and had soon found a “bit of cloth and a tingy bit of flesh hanging to a sharp wire.” James for a brief moment thought of how it could be a play thing for his sister’s little, white kitten. Victor Benninghaus was buried at sea the next day, having died the previous night from his injuries. James again described the scene, writing vividly of the way he was sent to the bottom with “a huge chunk of iron tied to his feet.” (1904–1912 Correspondence of James Paul Moody).
The voyage of the “Boa” may have been horrorifying for James, but Frank Haywood faired far worse. It turned out that his bully was one of the officers of the ship and as James described was “awfully down” on the poor boy. One night, as he returned to their cabin, James barely managed to save the depressed boy from slicing his wrists with a knife. Though he may have been a hero in this moment, he was not able to save Frank from taking his own life after, having been tormented by the officer until he couldn’t take it anymore. Inger Sheil describes the tragic night in more detail;
“As the apprentices were getting up for their morning watch at 4.00 am on April 22, Frank leapt from the cabin and ran on deck with hardly any clothes on. His colleagues assumed he was going to relieve himself, and took no notice of his absence until 15 minutes later when he was nowhere to be found. At approximately 41’ 14 N, 52’ 57 W, Haywood had taken the bully mate’s tormenting words literally and thrown himself overboard. His body was not recovered.” (Inger Sheil, encyclopedia-titanica.org — August 2005).
On 28 April, the Boadicea lay off Sandy Hook, New Jersey. Moving up river later that day, the anchor had to be raised, of which this took all hands — those who had not deserted the ship or had not died (12 out of a crew of 22, with 3 deserting in the following days). As if this wasn’t enough work, when docking in Brooklyn they had to do all the mooring by themselves. James summed the day up writing that “I never had such a hard day in my life, pouring rain all the time.” (1904–1912 Correspondence of James Paul Moody).
Despite the drenched welcome, and being thoroughly exhausted by his experience at sea, James found New York to be exciting, even mentioning that “things [are] awfully cheap here.” Also awaiting him were six letters, invitations to the Seaman’s Mission any night he liked and 3 shillings a week for pocket money. However, there was the visit to be had at the British Consulate alongside Captain Jones on the deaths which transpired on the crossing, before any fun could be had.
During this meeting, it was said that Frank Haywood had accidentally drowned. Like clock work, journalists picked up on the story of the perilous voyage, a spread being published in the New York Times. It was suspected that the boy had fallen off the ship in a lurch. When sending a clipping back home, James wrote across it “skipper dare not say suicide.” (1904–1912 Correspondence of James Paul Moody).
With one victim gone, the bully went after the other boys. During the return voyage, it took threat of violence from James and his mates to keep the officer at bay. Thankfully, the man left the ship a year later — not at all missed.
Aside from the horrors experienced on the “Boa,” his time in New York was wonderful! James bumped elbows with quite a few individuals, including a Mr Selby, with whom he had established quick rapport, introducing him to many facets of city life, of which he described in his letters “the most swagger hotels, churches, clubs etc.” He was also introduced to a man named Van der Lind whom he later found out to be a millionaire. During his stay in New York, he did lots of sight-seeing, taking in structures such as the Flatiron Building, which he noted was “the tallest in the city.” Making much use of his time, James visited other locales such as museums, clubs and Central Park.
But… what is fun without a little chaos? On the night of 29 May, 1904 a fire broke out. Considered to be the worst of its kind since the Hoboken Blaze of 1900, James was one of thousands of people who bore witness (at a safe distance) to the unfolding conflagration which all told, destroyed 6 piers, 2 dozen barges and damage estimated in millions of dollars. In a letter back home he wrote somewhat prophetically, that “All the horrors seem to happen at night.” — the irony of these words.
On 11 June, the “Boa” resumed her voyage, bound for Sydney, Australia. During said voyage, he came to Newcastle, and was taken into the circle of a generous family, of whom he would never forget their kindness in providing him with contacts of middle-class back-ground, just like his own in a city where he knew no one. After the eventful voyage of the “Boa,” and having had witnessed horrors that many could not fathom, James stuck it out for another three years. In a letter from February 1905, he wrote that “Lots of people have put in their letters how they would love to be seeing all the beautiful places I am seeing, but I tell them to stop at home or else invent a floating palace which doesn’t roll and can’t possibly sink.” (1904–1912 Correspondence of James Paul Moody).
Up and Up : Second Mate, and Better Beginnings
On 24 June, 1907, James passed on his first examination for his Second Mate Board of Trade certificate. At the time, he was living with a Mr Arthur Mountain, Esq at the address of St James House in Grimsby. In July, his first qualification was issued at the Port of Grimsby. His Second Mate’s certificate described him as being “5 foot 11, fair complexion with light brown hair and blue eyes.” (Titanic Officers — 2020). This description of his features, would not change — at all, consecutively from 1907 to when he boarded the RMS Titanic in the Spring of 1912.
On the passing of his certification, he returned to the Boadicea for a brief period, as the second mate. Remaining with her for a total of 5 months and 16 days (8 August, 1907 — 22 January, 1908). After taking leave of the ship, he wrote very pointedly; “Don’t know where the Boa is going to get and don’t care if she goes where the Light Brigade charged either.” (1904–1912 Correspondence of James Paul Moody). These words speak volumes of his gratefulness to be rid of the ship which had shown him many a horror-filled night.
Leaving sail behind, James began to dabble in steam with cargo and early oil-tankers. His first assignment was a brief period with the SS Azov (there were several ships christened with this name, this one was launched in 1892) as second mate for just two weeks (22 January — 5 February, 1908). After this, he went onto his next ship which was the SS Circassian Prince (1899), of which he spent 5 months on-board (5 February — 12 July, 1908).
After the SS Circassian Prince, James returned to the SS Azov as second mate, remaining aboard for another 4 months from 12 July to 11 November of 1908. During this early career in steam, James made several visits to Argentina prior to joining the White Star Line. Whilst working on the South American run, he spent a lot of time in the ports of South America, including Argentinian locales, referring to “Buenos Ayres” as a “splendid city.”
Amongst these treasured visits to South America, between 1904–1909, James started writing a short story, which is undated. The hero of the story was named “Briscoe Fletters.” Aside from his personal correspondence with family and friends, it is lovely that there are preserved bits of his creative writing, and though fragmented, the scenes depicted show a different side to James entirely. Of course for your sake dear reader, I’ve opted to include a link below under Sources should you like to take the time to read this short story woven by the then budding writer whilst at sea.
Of course, what is known is very little, except of what Inger Sheil has shared on the matter. He was possibly looking to publish, and had a specific genre in mind — romance, geared towards American clientele. James was no stranger to magazines and newspapers, and likely read many serials, especially during his time at sea. He particularly enjoyed a good gossip, and found that the murder and divorce columns were some of the finer bits of reading material — devouring them voraciously.
Position Climbing : If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again!
15 February, 1909 was an interesting day for James, but not in the best way. The 22 year-old Yorkshireman had applied for his Board of Trade First Mate’s certificate in Liverpool. The result was a failure of his examination, not being able to pass “Navigation.” However, this little set-back didn’t stop him and he persevered a second time, just four days later and passed, gaining his certification at the Port of Grimsby. He had by this point moved into a small house there with his brother Christopher, with the given address of 136 Fildes Street as of 1 March, 1909.
After obtaining his certification, his next ship was the SS Caprera. James made three crossings with this ship, and during the second voyage, he was promoted to First Officer, but was demoted back down to Second Mate for unknown reasons. Per the information available through “Titanic Officers,” one can see the following dates;
- 25 May — 26 September, 1909 (4 months and 3 days) as Second Mate.
- 27 September — 23 September, 1909 (2 months and 27 days) promoted as First Officer.
- 18 January, 1910 — 8 March, 1911 (1 year, 1 month and 22 days) demoted back to Second Mate.
- Went after and received a commission with the Reserve as a Sub-Lieutenant that same year. (Titanic Officers — 2020).
The one year demotion is theorised to have frustrated James, so much so, that he for a brief period attended the King Edward VII Nautical School in London to chase after his master’s certificate. Originally funded by the British and Foreign Sailor’s Society in 1901, the edifice still stands at №680 Commercial Road in the Limehouse District of the city. The structure was known as the “Sailor’s Palace” and was used as a residential hostel for marine officers. Designed by the architectural firm of Niven & Wigglesworth, it even today retains dominance in a much-changed, architectural landscape.
Whilst studying for his certification, James had lodgings at №37 Locksley Street in Limehouse, London. On 10 April, 1911 he applied for his Board of Trade Master’s certificate, and once again failed just like before on “Navigation.” Eight days later he reapplied, failing a second time, but on “Laws of Storms.” Undeterred, and despite the expense of the examination itself (£2 per application), he continued and finally passed, being officially certified as a master mariner at the Port of London on 28 April, 1911. He was then 23 years-old, and all told just truly reaching the height of his career at sea.
James Paul Moody : White Star Material
17 August, 1911, was a great leap of a day for James. He now had been given the position of Sixth Officer, on the then “largest ship in the world” (up until 1901), the RMS Oceanic (1899), and at the time considered to be one of the most luxurious as well.
On-board the RMS Oceanic, James established rapport with some of those he would later serve alongside with on-board the RMS Titanic and its maiden crossing in April of 1912. Of the ill-fated ship’s crew, he met Charles Lightoller, Jack Phillips and Herbert Pitman. In her research, Inger Sheil expands upon this by telling us that James referred to the RMS Titanic’s Second Officer and the Senior Marconi Operator in his letters, and also may have enjoyed friendly rapport with the Third Officer, though as she states on the latter that “his correspondence doesn’t indicate either way.” (Inger Sheil, Encyclopedia Titanica — 16 October, 2003).
Alongside was another named David Blair, who was a fellow White Star Line officer. James saw the older man as something of a mentor and friend, one who helped to smooth out the transition from the South American runs which he was so accustomed to, with the more routine (and if one could call it — leisurely) transatlantic crossings from England to New York. Of the aforementioned men, having been bumped off the RMS Titanic as Second Officer, with Henry Tingle Wilde being brought on as Chief Officer, he would be the only one to not board the Titanic for its maiden crossing in 1912.
Dénouement : The RMS Titanic
So, now we’ve come to it. The Titanic. “The Ship of Dreams” as it was called, by many. I won’t lie, I have not been looking forward to writing this part of the article. Having researched his life, and read what I’ve been able to read about this (as Inger Sheil described him) “British brassbounder” (during his early days at sea), I’ve come to really appreciate James’ willpower and continued stubborness to make a life for himself. Against all odds he fought his way to the top, and when faced with personal hardships and such, James continued to shine and push through.
And so, we trudge onward — just like James did through-out his life!
It was now early Spring, specifically March of 1912, and James was now 24 years-old. He was living with his aunt, and uncle (Arthur Mountain, Esq) in Grimsby, at St James House. He had put in a request for holidays, to enjoy some time with his old benefactor, Mr Selby. The older man had the idea for him to visit Paris — this request for leave was denied. Instead, James received word that he was to join the RMS Titanic as her Sixth Officer. In some of his last correspondence, he wrote that “We can’t have big ships and holidays!” (1912 Correspondence of James Paul Moody).
James took the promotion, with prestige, naturally. Who wouldn’t? Not only was the ship bigger, it made the Oceanic pale in comparison just from sheer size and gross tonnage; 882 ft 9 in long, and 46,329 GRT all told. Despite the position on a much larger vessel, his pay of £8.10 a month didn’t change, nor did he receive a rise in rank.
To James, the ship must have been daunting. Despite the maze of corridors and staircases, he tried to familiarise himself with the ship. In a letter to his sister, he described this effort, by saying “have been here a week, chiefly occupied trying to find my way about the big omnibus.” It becomes apparent, indeed how one could get so easily lost, even with a deck plan available. He continued with some prophetic foreshadowing on his part that the “Titanic, Olympic and Oceanic are going to be the 3 White Star ships on the S’ton — New York route for at least all summer, unless of course any unforeseen diversion turns up.” (1912 Correspondence of James Paul Moody).
James and his ship-board mates, the other Junior Officers (Herbert Pitman, Joseph Boxhall and Harold Lowe) all had quite a challenge in locating everything on the ship, writing that they “just played about the ship, learning the best way to get from one end to the other which I assure takes quite a bit of finding.” With tongue-in-cheek, he described the ship writing to his sister that “I cannot describe any part of a ship which needs 85 clocks and 16 pianos to furnish it!” (Letter from James Paul Moody to his sister, 4 April, 1912).
Of Edward John Smith, his new superior, he relayed that “Though I believe he’s an awful stickler for discipline, he’s popular with everybody.” James continued further, referencing that his previous superior “Daddy Haddock’ is going to the Olympic until old ‘E.J.’ retires on his old age pension from the Titanic…” To top this all off, the only real compensation aside from a hearty meal, was a cabin to himself. On finding his lodgings, James wrote that “My room is no bigger than a broom cupboard.” (1912 Correspondence of James Paul Moody).
Though his cabin was lackluster — indeed, looking at the lay-out of the cabin, the space between the door and the chair… and then noting James’ height, it must have proved for some source of amusement to him, and also irritation. However, he had far more pressing matters to attend to — his job!
Being Sixth Officer of the “largest ship in the world” (anyone see a running pattern?), meant that he had watch duty and of course answered to his superiors. His companion, fellow Yorkshireman, Joseph Boxhall whom had been signed on as the Fourth Officer shared this watch together with James, while the Third and Fifth Officers (Herbert Pitman, and Harold Lowe) shared the other watches. As explained via “Titanic Officers,” this also included what is called a “dog watch” which is a shift in a maritime watch system that is half the length of a standard watch period. It is formed by splitting a single watch period (4 hours) between the following;
- Single watch length : 16:00 and 20:00 (4 pm and 8 pm) to form two two-hour “dog watches.”
- “First” dog watch length : 16:00 to 18:00 (4 pm to 6 pm).
- “Second” or “Last” dog watch length : 18:00 to 20:00 (6 pm to 8 pm).
The logic behind this was simple; that an odd number of watches could be created in rotation for a single day on a ship, making it easier to avoid the same officers possibly being assigned every night to the “middle watch” which lasted from 12:00 midnight to 4:00 am.
On 2 April, 1912, after a delay which was mainly due to poor weather, the sea trials of the ship commenced. James and then Chief Officer, William Murdoch participated in the “stopping test” which was conducted after lunch. From “Bridge Duty, Officers of the RMS Titanic,” we understand that a stopping test entailed that a buoy was to be dropped, which a ship would then approach at its full speed. When performing this test, “Titanic took approximately 850 yards to come to a complete stop.” (Inger Sheil, Kerri Sundberg, 1999).
Along with these maneuvers, he also worked alongside Fifth Officer, Harold Lowe in testing the lifeboats. After these tests, and the ship’s sea trials finished, she made for Southampton via Belfast, where the ship docked in the early hours of 4 April, 1912. In a letter to his sister on the same day, he described that he had “Arrived safely at 1.30am after a fine passage from Belfast. Docked by moonlight…hoisted a huge rainbow of flags right over the ship, 220 flags 9 feet apart.” (Letter from James Paul Moody to his sister, 4 April, 1912).
5 April, 1912 saw that the entire ship was decked out in an array of colourful flags, from stem — to — stern. This wasn’t so much a religious observance (Good Friday), more so it was a salute to the citizens of Southampton. The ship wasn’t finished, fitting-out still continued, even up until the day she set sail. This meant that paid tours weren’t available as had been done on previous ships, including her elder sister, RMS Olympic (1910).
On 10 April, 1912 which was a Wednesday — sailing day, there was another lifeboat test. Fifth Officer, Harold Lowe and James both participated in the lowering, and raising of these boats. In “Bridge Duty, Officers of the RMS Titanic,” there is a good bit of information regarding this last test;
“The British Board of Trade’s Immigration Officer, Captain Maurice Harvey Clarke, was aboard overseeing compliance with requirements of the Merchant Shipping Acts that would allow Titanic to pass certification as an immigrant ship. As part of this compliance check, he observed the manning and lowering of two lifeboats. Lowe and Moody, each with a bo’sun and seven seamen, were lowered in starboard lifeboats №11 and №15. The drill commenced at approximately 9.00 am and was over by 9.30 am.” (Inger Sheil, Kerri Sundberg, 1999).
With all tests passed and completed, and the Board of Trade regulations having been met, the RMS Titanic was ready for her afternoon departure which would take her first to Cherbourg, France and after to Queenstown, Ireland. From there she would be at sea until she reached New York. James, being one for doing his duty, and a stickler, did not allow for several stokers to join the ship as they were late and missed the boarding queue.
Once the ship left from Southampton — factoring in all the little mishaps along the way (the near-collision with the SS New York, just to name one), James settled into the routine of his new position. After leaving Queenstown, it was nothing but smooth sailing and clear skies — which of course changed as the RMS Titanic neared an icefield, the temperature dropping steadily.
During the first “dog watch,” from 4 to 6 p.m. on 14 April, 1912, it has been debated that James could have put a mark on the chart regarding ice messages being received. Third Officer, Herbert Pitman during the British Inquiry answered to this stating that “As far as I can remember, one was put on the chart between 4 and 6.. it was either Mr. Boxhall or Mr. Moody. Mr. Boxhall does not seem to have any recollection of it, so it must have been Mr. Moody… I saw it there when I came on deck at 6 p.m.” (Herbert Pitman, Testimony — British Inquiry).
Sunday 14 April, 1912. The last sunset — something we all find so memorable and poignant in the course of Titanic-Voyage, and indeed it is. For James, it truly was his last sunset. He started his final, four-hour watch at 8.00 p.m. that evening. Relieving the Third and Fifth Officers, he along with the Fourth Officer and the Second Officer took their places, as if pieces on a chess board. Quartermaster, Robert Hichens was also on the Bridge that night and explained to the investigators that “I went on watch at 8 o’clock. The officers on the watch were the second officer, Mr. Lightoller, senior in command; the fourth officer, Mr. Boxhall; and the sixth officer, Mr. Moody.” (Robert Hichens, Testimony — U.S. Inquiry).
During an interview with the BBC in 1962, Joseph Boxhall explained that on the night of the sinking he had turned to James and said “Now Moody you go around the decks and come back at nine o’clock.” (Joseph Boxhall, BBC radio interview, October 1962)
As he rounded the ship’s deck, James would as Sixth Officer have also taken a revolution report. The Second Officer however did not recall a report being given. In the British Inquiry, Charles Lightoller told the investigators that the “Sixth Officer, when we went on watch, generally took them from the telephone.” (Charles Lightoller, Testimony — British Inquiry).
When James returned, his next duty was to calculate the proximity of ice near the ship. The Second Officer gave reference to the ice report from the RMS Caronia which had been received earlier that day. He later relayed that he had “Told one of the junior officers to work out about what time we should reach the ice region, and he told me about 11 o’clock.” (Charles Lightoller, Testimony — British Inquiry)
The Second Officer continued, giving the following information, for his testimony in the U.S. Inquiry, that the ship “should not be in the vicinity of the ice before I came on deck again. I roughly ran that off in my mind.” However, during the British Inquiry, he clarified his statement to the tune of “When I gave Mr. Moody instructions (I think if I did not say it in my evidence, I ought to have done) I used words to the effect that would guide him to look for the earliest ice, to let me know at what time we should be up at the ice. He would naturally look at the easternmost… whether I actually used the word easterly I do not recollect, but he would naturally conclude that, I should judge.” (Charles Lightoller, Testimony — British Inquiry).
When cross-examined by the investigators, in regards to what happened before the collision, Quartmaster, Robert Hichens explained that he had heard the Second Officer repeat to James “to speak through the telephone, warning the lookout men in the crow’s nest to keep a sharp lookout for small ice until daylight and pass the word along to the other lookout men… I heard by the second officer when he repeated it. He sent me with his compliments to the ship’s carpenter to look out for the ship’s water, that it was freezing, at 8 o’clock. Then I knew. I didn’t know before, but I heard the second officer distinctly tell Mr. Moody, the sixth officer, to repeat through the telephone, and keep a sharp lookout for small ice until daylight, and to pass the word along for the other lookout men.” (Robert Hichens, Testimony — U.S. Inquiry).
Later, at the British Inquiry, the Quartermaster confirmed this conversation, stating that “I heard Mr. Lightoller speak to Mr. Moody and tell him to speak through the telephone to the crow’s-nest to keep a sharp look-out for small ice and growlers until daylight and pass the word along to the look-out man.” (Robert Hichens, Testimony — British Inquiry).
As the temperature plummeted to below freezing, the First Officer, William Murdoch relieved the Second Officer of his duties and took on the 10.00 p.m. watch. James himself was stationed inside of the wheel-house, which was fully enclosed from the exterior bridge. The windows had shutters, ensuring that no light entered this room — his duty at that moment was to oversee Quartermaster, Robert Hichens at the wheel. He had just 20 minutes time left of his watch. From “Bridge Duty, Officers of the RMS Titanic,” we get the following theory of what he could have been thinking;
“Moody was probably looking forward to returning to his small cabin and escaping the bitter cold. Lightoller had ordered the heat turned on in the officers’ quarters, so at the very least Moody had a warm berth to look forward to before his next watch began at 4.00 am. In the meantime, he was stationed in the wheelhouse, standing just behind and to the left of Hichens at the wheel.” (Inger Sheil, Kerri Sundberg, 1999).
At 11.39 p.m. the look-outs in the crow’s nest spotted an iceberg not far from and directly in the ship’s path. In the wheel-house, James and the Quartermaster heard the toll of three bells ring out. In quick fashion, the telephone wired to the bridge from the crow’s nest began to ring. James picked up the telephone and answered, immediately to which Look-Out, Frederick Fleet explained that “I got an answer straight away — what did I see, or “What did you see?… He just asked me what did I see. I told him an iceberg right ahead… He said: “Thank you.” (Frederick Fleet, Testimony — U.S. Inquiry).
The polite reply to such an urgent message was also recalled by the Quartermaster as well. After finishing with the look-out, James called out to the First Officer, relaying the urgent message (whom had also heard the three bells) “Iceberg right ahead!” Having seen the iceberg, his superior rushed to the telegraph to give the order “Hard-a-starboard!” Time was of the essence, and unfortunately the RMS Titanic did not have any, at all to evade the mountain of ice which she was hurtling towards at full speed.
Leading up to, and during the collision, James’ duty was to see that these maneuvers were carried out correctly. Quartermaster Hichens in his testimony at the U.S. Inquiry explained that “With the sixth officer behind my back, with the junior officer behind my back, to see whether I carried it out — one of the junior officers… Then the first officer told the other quartermaster standing by to take the time, and told one of the junior officers to make a note of that in the logbook. That was at 20 minutes of 12; sir.” (Robert Hichens, Testimony — U.S. Inquiry).
After mere seconds had flown by, Quartermaster, Alfred Olliver (one of seven quartermasters) and the Fourth Officer arrived on the bridge. James was instructed to enter the collision in the log, while the Quartermaster was ordered to note the time of the collision. Shortly thereafter the Captain and the other officers joined on the bridge to assess for any damage. Only Fifth Officer, Harold Lowe was still in his cabin at this point.
During these early moments, James instructed Quartermaster, Alfred Olliver to get a list of the lifeboats. Alfred Olliver explained during his testimony that “the sixth officer told me to go and get the boat’s list, so that he could muster the men at the boats. I went and got the sailors’ boat list and took it to him. Then somebody told me to muster the boats… I did not muster the men at the boats. I gave this to Mr. Moody, the sixth officer.” (Alfred Olliver, Testimony — U.S. Inquiry).
From this point on, time began to tick away for the RMS Titanic, and its passengers and crew. She had lifeboats for only half of those on-board her, and with a total of over 2,200 people (over 900 being crew), this did not bode well for the night’s events which would quickly unfold.
At approximately 12.05 a.m., the lifeboats were ordered to be uncovered. During these moments, James and the Third Officer met out on deck. The senior officer asked the junior officer if he had seen the iceberg, to which James replied with a “No,” but as the Third Officer stated in his testimony at the British Inquiry, James also added that “There is some ice on the forward well deck.” (Herbert Pitman, Testimony — British Inquiry).
From 12.25 a.m. onwards, the loading of the lifeboats commenced. Most of the passengers and crew didn’t realise the gravity of the situation they were in however. Many treated it as either a joke, or were confused by what information they had been told. To be fair, the small, wooden lifeboats dangling from their davits looked unsafe compared to a well-lit, warm and what most people thought “unsinkable” ship. Some even treated the situation as unnecessary, returning to their cabins as they thought there was no danger. However, as the ship settled into the North Atlantic, urgency slowly crept into the minds of those on-board. Soon, more passengers began to fill the lifeboats, especially towards the very end — just before the ship took her final plunge.
James, during the evacuation of the lifeboats assisted with the loading and launching of a number of them, which were mainly on the port-side of Boat and “A” Deck;
- Lifeboat №2
- Lifeboat №4
- Lifeboat №12
- Lifeboat №16
While on the starboard-side of the ship, he helped load the following;
- Lifeboat №9
- Lifeboat №13
- Collapsible Boat “A”
During the time that the ship had left, quite a number of people witnessed James at these various lifeboats. First-Class Passenger, Colonel Archibald Gracie IV recalled seeing a “tall thin chap” during for when the order for the boats to be loaded was given. The Colonel, whom was assisting four ladies to the boats was told that “No man” could go “beyond this line.” Again, a stickler for rules, James stuck to the order given, and let the women pass the line, barring the Colonel from assisting them further.
Able seaman, William Lucas also saw James, along with the Second Officer at Lifeboat №2. In his testimony at the British Inquiry, he recounted how “I went to the assistance of all the boats there to be swung out from the deck…The only officers I saw there [lifeboat no.2] were Mr. Moody and Mr. Lightoller.” (William Lucas, Testimony — British Inquiry).
The Able seaman continued further, this time pin-pointing the loading and launching of lifeboats №16 and №12, explaining that “The afterpart of the ship where I first started lowering boats… That was number 16, 12… They were not fully manned by a long way.” He then related that the women were to be put into the boats by “Mr. Moody, the sixth officer… He was near me when I was lowering… [at] the afterend of all.” (William Lucas, Testimony — British Inquiry).
Alongside James was his mate, Fifth Officer, Harold Lowe. During the evacuation, the Fifth Officer told the U.S. Inquiry that “I next went across the deck….To the other side, that is, the port side, and I met the sixth officer, Moody, and asked Moody, “What are you doing?” He said, “I am getting these boats away.” So we filled both 14 and 16 with women and children…I did not fill 16; Moody filled 16.” (Harold Lowe, Testimony — U.S. Inquiry).
During the loading of Lifeboat №16, James encountered Violet Jessop, a stewardess who he let board the boat. She would years later describe James’ countenance during this moment with vivid description of “weary and tired,” yet still managing a “bright smile.” When the stewardess boarded, James proceeded to toss someone’s forgotten infant, and asked her to “Look after this, will you?”
As the boarding of Lifeboat №14 continued, the Fifth Officer saw that five boats had gone away without an officer on-board either of them, he turned to James and told him this. He then asked him “who it was to be,” that would get into the boat. James then ordered him, his superior to take charge of the boat and get in, adding on with “You go, I will get in another boat.” The boat left the port-side Boat Deck with the Fifth Officer on-board, at about 1.30 a.m. It was the last time that he would see James alive. The ship did not have much time left, and nor did James as he continued to assist with the loading and launching of the lifeboats. Working tirelessly, he ordered another Quartermaster, Walter Lynn to go to his own boat, which was Lifeboat №9.
At 1.40 a.m., Look-Out Reginald Lee witnessed James at Lifeboat №13, describing “a tall officer, about 6 feet in height, fresh complexion.” During its loading, 12 year-old Second-Class passenger, Ruth Becker whom had been separated from her family (they had gone into Lifeboat №11), was told by her mother to get into another boat. Asking James if she could board, he said “Sure,” and swiftly picked her up, as Ruth described “dumping” her in.
During the last moments of the sinking, chaos and disorder reigned. There were no more boats, save for the two collapsibles (B and A, respectively) on the roof of the Officer’s Quarters. These had to be manually pushed over the side. The ship at this time was listing heavily to port, which made things even more difficult. In a last ditch effort, James assisted with the uncovering and pushing down of Collapsible Boat “A.” The boat made it to the deck, but because of the list, and the gradual drop of the ship, it became lodged by a guywire attached to the №1 Funnel.
James fought gallantly and bravely, to rescue as many passengers as he could but the night would soon be over for him. As he and others continued to try to get Collapsible Boat “A” free of its jam, a wave — described as a small tidal wave swamped the Boat Deck, knocking many off their feet. The wave came as a surprise and bottle-necked those who had been standing seconds before. James Paul Moody, the youngest office of the RMS Titanic was never seen again.
The Aftermath : Missing Reports and a Callous Letter
After the loss of the RMS Titanic, James’ family followed the newspapers, hoping that he was among the saved. James’ signature, with the “P” of his middle initial running into the “M” of his surname, appeared as if he wrote “James Pelloody.” This misunderstanding and the initial reports led to his family still having high hopes, but eventually they found out that he did not survive, the only junior deck officer to have perished in the sinking.
Adding insult to injury, the head of the White Star Line (Ismay, Imrie & Co) sent out a letter to James’ brother Christopher, dated 7 May, 1912. In this letter the company asked for a £20 deposit (the equivalent of £2,100 today) to have his body returned to England, and then said that he would have to meet the remaining costs of allocating a grave site, etc. The Company even made the suggestion of having James’ body buried at Halifax, Nova Scotia. The… silver lining was that they offered to send “a photograph of the tombstone” if James’ family wished for one…
The cruel reality is that his body was never recovered. After, there was a probate report listing his remaining effects;
“Moody, James Paul of 136 Fildes Street, Grimsby, Lincolnshire. Ships Officer. Probate registered: London 16th September 1912 to Christopher William Moody solicitors clerk and Margaret Moody spinster. Effects £449.8.8d.” (Titanic Officers — 2020).
The letter went up for auction by Henry Aldridge & Son in 2015, and was expected to reach a hefty sum of somewhere between £20,000 and £25,000… Still, his body was never found.
So what else is there to say? James was a courageous, spirited and brave man who faced certain peril — but faced it head on, always thinking of the passengers and his fellow crew. He was addicted to sweets, especially biscuits and fruit — even mentioning in his letters to his sister the state of his “rotten teeth.” He loved to crack jokes, and had a cheeky sense of humour. He did much in his life, even if it was for only 24 years — He did much.
I suppose that’s it for this, yes? Hopefully, you’ve gotten to the end and enjoyed what has been compiled here. Just as the Sixth Officer did, with a zest for life, some paper and a pencil — writing to his heart’s content, describing all he witnessed and experienced, who is now memorialised as a hero to so many.
Good on you Jim. Good on you.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………
Thank-you for taking the dive with me, and for reading this article, it has definitely been an effort! And I hope a fitting tribute to this unsung hero.
Sources:
Unfinished Short Story, by James Paul Moody (1904–1909).
“All the Horrors Seem to Happen at Night,” by Inger Sheil (2005).
Encyclopedia Titanica
Titanic Officers
Aylesbury Town Council
South Tyneside Council
HMS Conway
Tyne Built Ships
Manchester History
Titanic: Honor & Glory
