can be saved; and
therefore with no boats at all, no one need be
lost. But even if there was a flaw in this
argument, pray look at
the other advantages the
absence of boats gives you. There can't
be the
annoyance of having to go into them in the middle of the
night, and the unpleasantness, after saving your life by the skin
of your teeth, of being hauled over the coals by irreproachable
members of the Bar with hints that you are no better than a
cowardly
scoundrel and your wife a heartless
monster. Less Boats.
No boats! Great should be the
gratitude of passage-selling
Combines to Pooh-Bah; and they ought to
cherish his memory when he
dies. But no fear of that. His kind never dies. All you have to
do, O Combine, is to knock at the door of the Marine Department,
look in, and
beckon to the first man you see. That will be he,
very much at your service--prepared to
affirm after "ten years of
my best
consideration" and a
bundle of
statistics in hand, that:
"There's no lesson to be
learned, and that there is nothing to be
done!"
On an earlier day there was another
witness before the Court of
Inquiry. A
mighty official of the White Star Line. The impression
of his
testimony which the Report gave is of an almost
scornfulimpatience with all this fuss and pother. Boats! Of course we
have
crowded our decks with them in answer to this
ignorantclamour. Mere lumber! How can we handle so many boats with our
davits? Your people don't know the conditions of the problem. We
have given these matters our best
consideration, and we have done
what we thought
reasonable. We have done more than our duty. We
are wise, and good, and impeccable. And
whoever says
otherwise is
either
ignorant or wicked.
This is the gist of these
scornful answers which
disclose the
psychology of
commercial undertakings. It is the same psychology
which fifty or so years ago, before Samuel Plimsoll uplifted his
voice, sent overloaded ships to sea. "Why shouldn't we cram in as
much cargo as our ships will hold? Look how few, how very few of
them get lost, after all."
Men don't change. Not very much. And the only answer to be given
to this
manager who came out,
impatient and
indignant, from behind
the plate-glass windows of his shop to be discovered by this
inquiry, and to tell us that he, they, the whole three million (or
thirty million, for all I know) capital Organisation for selling
passages has considered the problem of boats--the only answer to
give him is: that this is not a problem of boats at all. It is
the problem of
decent behaviour. If you can't carry or handle so
many boats, then don't cram quite so many people on board. It is
as simple as that--this problem of right feeling and right conduct,
the real nature of which seems beyond the
comprehension of ticket-
providers. Don't sell so many tickets, my
virtuous dignitary.
After all, men and women (unless considered from a purely
commercial point of view) are not exactly the cattle of the
Western-ocean trade, that used some twenty years ago to be thrown
overboard on an
emergency and left to swim round and round before
they sank. If you can't get more boats, then sell less tickets.
Don't drown so many people on the finest, calmest night that was
ever known in the North Atlantic--even if you have provided them
with a little music to get drowned by. Sell less tickets! That's
the
solution of the problem, your Mercantile Highness.
But there would be a cry, "Oh! This requires
consideration!" (Ten
years of it--eh?) Well, no! This does not require
consideration.
This is the very first thing to do. At once. Limit the number of
people by the boats you can handle. That's
honesty. And then you
may go on fumbling for years about these precious davits which are
such a stumbling-block to your
humanity. These
fascinating patent
davits. These davits that refuse to do three times as much work as
they were meant to do. Oh! The wickedness of these davits!
One of the great discoveries of this
admirable Inquiry is the
fascination of the davits. All these people
positively can't get