Did locked gates prevent third-class passengers escaping from the Titanic?

Daniel Buckley, a 21-year-old Irishman, gave rather contradictory testimony at the American Inquiry into the sinking of the Titanic. First he said he wasn’t aware of locked gates, then he claimed “they tried to keep us down on the steerage deck; they did not want us to go up to the first-class place at all.” He related seeing a sailor throw a third-class passenger back over a gate then lock it, but said his group managed to break it down and escape that way. This tale was repeated in the press and appears in many a Titanic movie – but no one else corroborated it.

The American Inquiry into the sinking

In fact, Berk Pickard, from Poland, told the Inquiry that he managed to ascend to the boat deck, from which lifeboats were being lowered, by walking through doors into second- and then first-class areas. The only barriers were signs saying “Second [or third] class passengers not allowed beyond this point” – but the doors could be opened by anyone.

For the majority of third-class passengers, the overwhelming problem they faced after the collision was negotiating the rabbit warren of passageways, staircases and public rooms to get up to the boat deck, which was mostly in the first-class area of the ship. There was no single staircase leading all the way up through the six to eight decks they would have to traverse to get near the lifeboats, and no handy maps of the ship they could use. Even the staff had trouble finding their way around.

Whereas first- and second-class passengers were guided to the boat deck by their room stewards, there were fewer stewards per head in third class, and only one – John Hart – appears to have fulfilled this role. An outstanding hero of the night, he led two parties upwards via a circuitous route and shepherded them into lifeboats, thus saving the lives of 66 third-class passengers who might not otherwise have made it.

Among the most intrepid third-class passengers were the dozens who scrambled up a cargo-loading crane that towered over the third-class outdoor deck. When they reached the top, they had to shimmy along a gantry to reach the boat deck.

It was survival of the intrepid. The ones who sat obediently below decks waiting for someone to tell them what to do would wait in vain. The many who didn’t speak English were doubly disadvantaged because they couldn’t ask advice or confer with their fellow passengers. There are tales of some seen dragging their steamer trunks and suitcases along corridors as the water level rose, because they had their worldly possessions with them on the ship and could never have afforded to replace them.

A swell of third-class passengers finally found their way to the boat deck at around 1.55am – just as the last lifeboat was launched. By all accounts they looked confused as they gazed at the empty davits from which the lifeboats had been lowered. They had been let down by White Star Lines, to whom they had paid their fares, trusting that they would be transported safely to a new life on a new continent. They were let down by Captain Smith, who could have organised the evacuation of the ship much more efficiently. And they were let down by the Inquiries, who only invited three witnesses from third-class to testify, out of the 178 who survived against the odds.