The collision seemed nothing more than a mild jolt. It felt, said Lady Cosmo Duff Gordon, "as though somebody had drawn a giant finger along the side of the ship." She started up in bed, but everything was quiet, so she lay back again. It was 11:40 p.m. Up in the first-class smoking room, where a group of young men were playing a last few rounds of cards, the grinding sound disturbed the game. Several of the players wandered out into the freezing night to take a look. "We hit an iceberg--there it is," somebody said. As the players looked toward...
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