🚢 RMS Titanic Lifeboat 3 – Wealth, Survival, and the Cost of Hesitation

Discover the story of RMS Titanic’s Lifeboat 3, which carried First-Class millionaires, their servants, and hardworking crew members to safety. Learn about the largest financial claim filed after the disaster, the banker who swam for his life, and why this lifeboat left half-empty, missing a chance to save more lives.

🚢 RMS Titanic Lifeboat 3 – A Symbol of Wealth, Courage, and Missed Opportunities

🔍 Overview: A Lifeboat Marked by First-Class Elegance and Limited Seats

Lifeboat 3 was among the earliest launched from Titanic, departing at 1:00 AM on April 15, 1912. With 38 people onboard—26 First-Class passengers and 12 crew members—it left with just 58% of its 65-person capacity, meaning more lives could have been saved.

📌 Why is Lifeboat 3 significant?

✔ Carried some of Titanic's wealthiest and most prominent passengers

✔ One of the first lifeboats launched, yet was still underfilled

✔ Survivors included an incredible mix of businessmen, socialites, maids, and stokers

✔ Contains compelling firsthand survivor accounts that detail the sinking from a privileged perspective

✔ A lifeboat with documented passenger controversy, including survivors who later filed major lawsuits

📌 For teachers, students, genealogists, and historians, Lifeboat 3 provides an example of class disparities, survival ethics, and firsthand Titanic survivor testimonies from some of the wealthiest passengers on board.

Facts About Lifeboat 3 (LB-3)

Lifeboat 3, the 4th one launched at 1:00 am, located on the boat deck, starboard side, with 38 occupants comprised of 26 First Class and 12 Crew Members. Capacity for the lifeboat was 65 (58% of Capacity).

First Class Passengers - LB-3

1. Mr. Harry Anderson (47)  New York, New York, US
2. Mrs. Charlotte Wardle (née Drake) Cardeza (58)  Germantown, Pennsylvania, US
3. maid, Miss Annie Moore Ward and (38)  Germantown, Pennsylvania, US
4. Mr. Thomas Drake Martinez Cardeza (36)  Germantown, Pennsylvania, US
5. valet, Mr. Gustave J. Lesueur and (35)  Germantown, Pennsylvania, US
6. Mr. Robert Williams Daniel (27)  Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, US
7. Mrs. Orian Davidson (née Hays) (27)  Montreal, Quebec, Canada
8. Mr. Albert Adrian Dick (31)  Calgary, Alberta, Canada
9. Mrs. Vera Dick (née Gillespie) (17)  Calgary, Alberta, Canada
10. Mrs. Edith Ware Graham (née Junkins) (59)  Greenwich, Connecticut, US
11. Miss Margaret Edith Graham (19)  Greenwich, Connecticut, US
12. Miss Elizabeth Weed Shutes (governess) (40)  Greenwich, Connecticut, US
13. Mr. Henry Sleeper Harper (48)  New York, New York, US
14. Mr. Hammad Hassab (dragoman) (27)  Cairo, Egypt
15. Mrs. Myna Harper (née Haxtun) (49)  New York, New York, US
16. Mr. Walter James Hawksford (45)  Kingston, Surrey, England, UK
17. Mrs. Clara Jennings Hays (née Grigg) (52)  Montreal, Quebec, Canada
18. Miss Mary Anne Perreault (maid) (33)  Montreal, Quebec, Canada
19. Mr. Adolphe Saalfeld (47)  Manchester, England, UK
20. Colonel Alfons Simonius-Blumer (56)  Basel, Switzerland
21. Mr. Frederic Oakley Spedden (45)  Tuxedo Park, New York, US
22. Mrs. Margaretta Corning Spedden (née Stone) (39)  Tuxedo Park, New York, US
23. Miss Helen Alice Wilson (maid) (31)  Tuxedo Park, New York, US
24. Master Robert Douglas Spedden (6)  Tuxedo Park, New York, US
25. Miss Elizabeth Margaret Burns (nurse) (41)  Tuxedo Park, New York, US
26. Dr. Max Stähelin-Maeglin (32)  Basel, Switzerland

Deck Crew - LB-3

1. Able Seaman: Archer, Mr. Ernest Edward (36) 
2. Able Seaman: Moore, Mr. George Alfred (32)

Engineering Crew - LB-3

1. Mr. Walter Binstead (19)  Trimmer
2. Mr. George Combes (21)  Fireman/Stoker
3. Mr. Robert Couper (30)  Fireman/Stoker
4. Mr. John Hagan (30)  Fireman/Stoker
5. Mr. Thomas Mayzes (25)  Fireman/Stoker
6. Mr. John J. Moore (29)  Fireman/Stoker
7. Mr. William Nutbean (31)  Fireman/Stoker
8. Mr. H. Oliver (32)  Fireman/Stoker
9. Mr. John Podesta (25)  Fireman/Stoker
10. Mr. Robert Triggs (41)  Fireman/Stoker

Legend For Survivor or Lost Passengers and Crew Members

• LB-# or A-D - Survivor on Lifeboat 1-16 or Collapsible Lifeboat A-D
• P-BNR - Perished, Body Not Recovered or Body Not Identified
• MB – CS Mackay-Bennett (bodies 1–306)
• M – CS Minia (bodies 307–323)
• MM – CGS Montmagny (bodies 326–329)
• A – SS Algerine (body 330)
• O – RMS Oceanic (bodies 331–333)
• I – SS Ilford (body 334)
• OT – SS Ottawa (body 335)

Numbers 324 and 325 were unused, and the six bodies buried at sea by the Carpathia also went unnumbered. Several recovered bodies were unidentifiable and thus not all numbers are matched with a person.

Upon recovery, the bodies of 209 identified and unidentified victims of the sinking were brought to Halifax, Nova Scotia. Of those, 121 were taken to the non-denominational Fairview Lawn Cemetery, 59 were repatriated, 19 were buried in the Roman Catholic Mount Olivet Cemetery, and 10 were taken to the Jewish Baron de Hirsch Cemetery. The bodies of the remaining recovered victims were either delivered to family members or buried at sea.

The most detailed and largest property claim belongs to socialite Charlotte Drake Cardeza, who occupied the most opulent stateroom on the ship, a symbol of the grandeur of the Titanic. After surviving the sinking of the Titanic aboard lifeboat 3, Cardeza filed a claim for the lost contents of her 14 trunks, 4 suitcases, and 3 crates of baggage (a total of at least 841 individual items) for $ 177,352.75. The nearly 20-page itemized claim includes objects such as her 6 7/8 carat pink diamond ring valued at $20,000. (Prologue, Spring 2012: 11)

Robert Williams Daniel was among those who jumped from the sinking Titanic at the last minute. Daniel struck out, lashing the water with his arms until he made a point far from the sinking ship. One of the passing lifeboats later picked him up - Lifeboat No. 3. (Logan Marshall, Sinking of the Titanic and Great Sea Disasters, 1912:92)

Mr. Albert Adrian Dick (31)  Calgary, Alberta, Canada

DICK, Albert A.—Capitalist of the A. A. Dick Land Co., 813 First St., E., Calgary, Alberta, Canada. Born Sandy Bar River, Man., July 29, 1880, son of George and Agnes Dick. Educ. high sch., of Calgary. His entrepreneurial spirit led him to Alberta in 1888. He started with a small portable sawmill in 1899, then homesteaded 12 miles from Calgary. In 1904, he founded his present business as a real estate broker and initiated the first sub-division in Calgary, now known as Mount Pleasant. Since 1908, he has been building houses and blocks. His interests are diverse, ranging from timber, mines, and fruit lands to revenue-producing blocks, such as the Dick Block and Hotel Alexandra, Calgary. His address: Calgary, Alberta. (Who's Who in Western Canada, 1911:159)

Such a biting cold air poured into my stateroom that I could not sleep, and the air had so strange an odor [1] as if it came from a clammy cave. I noticed the same smell in the ice cave on the Eiger glacier. It all came back to me so vividly that I could not sleep, but I lay in my berth until the cabin grew so cold that I got up and turned on my electric stove.

It threw a cheerful red glow around, and the room was soon comfortable, but I lay waiting. I have always loved both day and night on shipboard and am never fearful of anything, but now I am nervous about the icy air. Suddenly a queer quivering ran under me, apparently the whole length of the ship. Startled by the very strangeness of the shivering motion, I sprang to the floor.

With too perfect a trust in that mighty vessel, I again lay down. Someone knocked at my door, and the voice of a friend said: "Come quickly to my cabin; an iceberg has just passed our window; I know we have just struck one."

There was no confusion or noise, so one could believe no danger was imminent. Our stewardess came and said she could learn nothing. Looking out into the companionway, I saw heads appear, asking questions from half-closed doors.

It was sepulchral still, and there was no excitement. I sat down again. My friend was by this time; her daughter and I still talked, Margaret, pretending to eat a sandwich. Her hand shook so that the bread kept parting company from the chicken.

Then I saw she was frightened, and for the first time, I was, too. But why get dressed, as no one had given the slightest hint of any possible danger? An officer's cap passed the door. I asked, "Is there an accident or danger?" "None, so far as I know," was his courteous answer, spoken quietly and most kindly.

This same officer then entered a cabin a little distance down the companionway. By this time, distrustful of everything, I listened intently and distinctly heard, "We can keep the water out for a while." Then, and not until then, did I realize the horror of an accident at sea.

Now it was too late to dress; no time for a waist, but a coat and skirt were soon on; slippers were quicker than shoes; the stewardess put on our life-preservers, and we were just ready when Mr. Roebling came to tell us he would take us to our friend's mother, who was waiting above. We passed by the palm room, where two short hours before, we had listened to a beautiful concert, just as one might sit in one's own home.

With never a realizing sense of being on the ocean, why should not one forget?—no motion, no noise of machinery, nothing suggestive of a ship. Happy, laughing men and women constantly passed up and down those broad, strong staircases, and the music went on, and the boat went on—nearer and nearer to its end.

So short a life, so horrible a death for that great, grand ship. What is a more spectacular work than a ship? The almost human pieces of machinery, yet a helpless child, powerless in its struggle with an almighty sea, and the great boat sank, fragile as a rowboat. How different are these staircases now?

There was no laughing crowd, but on either side stood quietly, bravely, the stewards, all equipped with the white, ghostly life-preservers. It is always the thing one tries not to see, even when crossing a ferry. Now, only pale faces, each form strapped about with those white bars—so gruesome a scene.

We passed on—the awful goodbyes. There was a quiet look of hope in the brave men's eyes as the wives were put into the lifeboats. Nothing escaped one at this fearful moment.

We left from the Sun Deck, seventy-five feet above the water. Mr. Case and Mr. Roebling, brave American men, saw us to the lifeboat, made no effort to save themselves, and stepped back on deck. Later, they went to an honored grave.

Our lifeboat, with thirty-six in it, began lowering to the sea. This was done amid the greatest confusion. Rough seamen all giving different orders. No officer aboard. As only one side of the ropes worked, the lifeboat at one time was in such a position that it seemed we must capsize in mid-air. At last, the ropes worked together, and we drew nearer and nearer the black, oily water.

The first touch of our lifeboat on that black sea came to me as a last goodbye to life, and so we put off—a tiny boat on a fabulous sea— rowed away from what had been a safe home for five days. The first wish on the part of all was to stay near the Titanic. We all felt so much safer near the ship.

Indeed, such a vessel could not sink. The danger must be exaggerated, and we could all be taken aboard again. But undoubtedly, the outline of that great, good ship was growing less. The bow of the boat was getting black. Light after light was disappearing, and now those rough seamen put to their oars, and we were told to hunt under seats, any place, anywhere, for a lantern, a light of any kind.

Every place was empty. There was no water—no stimulant of any kind. Not a biscuit—nothing to keep us alive had we drifted long. Had no good Carpathia come to our rescue with its splendid Captain Rostron and its orderly crew, we must have all perished.

Our men knew very little about the position of the stars, hardly how to pull them together. Two oars were soon overboard. The men's hands were too cold to hold on. We stopped while they beat their hands and arms, then started on again. A sea, calm as a pond, kept our boat steady, and now that mammoth ship is fast, fast disappearing.

Only one tiny light is left—a powerless little spark, a lantern fastened to the mast. Fascinated, I watched that black outline until the end. Then, across the water swept that awful wail, the cry of those drowning people. In my ears, I heard: "She's gone, lads; row like hell, or we'll get the devil of a swell." And the horror, the helpless horror, the worst of all—need it have been?

Today, the question is being asked, "Would the Titanic disaster be so discussed had it not been for the great wealth gathered there?" It surely would be, for at this time, wealth counts for nothing, but man's philanthropy, brains, and heroism count forever.

So many men who stood for the making of a great nation, morally and politically, were swept away by the sinking of that big ship. That is why, day after day, the world asks the why of it all. Had a kind Providence a guiding hand in this? Did our nation need so mighty a stroke to prove that man had grown too self-reliant, too sure of his power over God's sea?

God's part was saving the few souls on that calmest of oceans on that fearful night. Man's part was the pushing of the good ship, pushing against all reason, to save what?—a few hours and lose a thousand souls—to have the largest ships arrive in port even a few hours sooner than anticipated. Risk all, but push, push on, on.

The icebergs could be avoided. Indeed, man's experience ought to have lent aid, but just so indeed, it did not. In years past, a tendency to live more simply, away from pomp and display, led to the founding of our American nation.

Now, what are we demanding today? Those same needless luxuries. If they were not requested, they would not be supplied. Gymnasiums, swimming pools, and tea rooms had better give way to make space for the necessary number of lifeboats, lifeboats for the crew, and also those who helped pilot the excellent ship across the sea.

A mother and daughter (Mrs. Hays and Mrs. Davidson) sat by me in the lifeboat. The mother had left a husband on the Titanic, and the daughter a father and husband. While we were near the other boats, those two stricken women would call out a name and ask, "Are you there?" "No," would come back the awful answer, but these brave women never lost courage, forgot their sorrow, and told me to sit close to them to keep warm.

I began to wish for the warm velvet suit I had left hanging in my cabin. I had thought of it for a minute and then had quickly thrown on a lighter-weight skirt. I knew the heavier one would make the life preserver less useful. Had I only known how calm the ocean was that night, I would have felt that death was not so sure and would have dressed for life rather than for the end.

The life-preservers helped to keep us warm, but the night was bitter cold, and it grew colder and colder, and just before dawn, the coldest, darkest hour of all, no help seemed possible. As we got off the Titanic, there was never a sky more brilliant; I had never seen so many falling stars. All tended to make those distress rockets sent up from the sinking ship look so small, dull, and futile.

The sky's brilliance only intensified the water's blackness, our utter loneliness on the sea. The other boats had drifted away from us; we must now wait for dawn and what the day would bring us, and we dare not even hope. I tried to imagine myself again in Japan to see if I could not make the night seem shorter.

We had made two strange night departures there, and I was unafraid, and this Atlantic now was calmer than the Inland sea had been at that time. This helped a while, but my hands were cold, and I had to give up pretending and think of the dawn that must soon come.

Two rough-looking men had jumped into our boat as we were about to lower it. They kept striking matches and lighting cigars until I feared we would have no matches left and might need them, so I asked them not to use them anymore, but they kept on. I am still determining what they look like. It was too dark to distinguish features clearly.

When dawn brought the light, it brought something so incredible that no one looked at anything else or anyone else. Someone asked: "What time is it?" Matches were still left; one was struck. Four o'clock 1 Where had the hours of the night gone? Yes, dawn would soon be here, and it came, so intense with cheer.

The stars slowly disappeared, and in their place came the faint pink glow of another day. Then I heard, "A light, a ship." I could not, would not, look while there was a bit of doubt, but I kept my eyes away. All night long, I had heard, "A light!" Each time, it proved to be one of our other lifeboats, someone lighting a piece of paper, anything they could find to burn, and now I could not believe it.

Someone found a newspaper; it was lighted and held up. Then I looked and saw a ship. A ship bright with lights, solid and steady, she waited, and we were to be saved. A straw hat was offered (Mrs. Davidson's); it would burn longer. That same ship that had come to save us might run us down. But no, she is still.

The two, the ship and the dawn, came together, a living painting. White was the vessel, but whiter still were those beautiful icebergs, and as we drew nearer and nearer that good ship, we drew nearer to those mountains of ice. As far as the eye could reach, they rose. Each one more fantastically chiseled than its neighbor. The floe glistened like an ever-ending meadow covered with new-fallen snow.

Those same white mountains, marvelous in their purity, had made the just-ended night one of the blackest the sea has ever known. And near them stood the ship, which had responded quickly to the Titanic's call for help.

The man who works over hours is always worthwhile, and the Marconi operator, awaiting a belated message, had heard the poor ship's call for help. We few out of so many were saved.

From the Carpathia, a rope forming a tiny swing was lowered into our lifeboat, and one by one, we were drawn into safety. The lady pulled up just ahead of me, which was very large, and I felt myself being jerked fearfully when I heard someone say: "Careful, fellers; she's a lightweight." I bumped against the ship's side until I felt like a bag of meal.

My hands were so cold I could hardly hold on to the rope, and I feared letting go. Again, I heard: "Steady, fellers; not so fast!" I felt I should let go and bounce out of the ropes; I hardly think that would have been possible, but I felt so then.

At last, I found myself at an opening of some kind. There, a kind doctor wrapped me in a warm rug and led me to the dining room, where warm stimulants were given to us immediately. Everything possible was done for us all. Lifeboats kept coming in, and heart-rending was the sight of widow after widow was brought aboard.

Each hoped some lifeboat ahead of hers might have brought her husband safely to this waiting vessel. But always no. I was still so cold that I had to get a towel and tie it around my waist. Then I went back to the dining room and found dear little Louis,* the French baby, lying alone; his cold, bare feet had become unwrapped.

I put a hot water bottle against this lovely boy. He smiled his thanks. Knowing how much better I felt after taking the hot stimulant, I tried to get others to take something; but often they just shook their heads and said, "Oh, I can't?' Towards night, we remembered we had nothing -—no comb, brush, nothing of any kind—so we went to the barber-shop. The barber always had everything, but now he had only a few toothbrushes left.

I bought a cloth cap of doubtful style and felt like a walking orphan asylum, but I was delighted to have anything to cover my head. There were also a few showy silk handkerchiefs left. On each corner was embroidered in scarlet, "From a friend?'

We bought these and were now fitted out for our three remaining days at sea. Patiently through our dismal, foggy days, we waited for land and possible news of the lost. For the brave American man, a heart full of gratitude, too deep for words, sends out a thanksgiving.

That such men are born, live, and die for others is a cause for deep gratitude. What country could have shown such men as belonging to our American manhood? Thank God for them and their noble death.

Note 1: Seaman Lee testifies to this odor.

Colonel Archibald Gracie, "When the Titanic Went Down by Miss Elizabeth W. Shutes," The Truth About the Titanic, New York: Mitchell Kennerley, 1913, pp. 250-261.

📌 The Passengers: A First-Class Affair with a Working-Class Crew

Lifeboat 3 carried an elite group of First-Class passengers, including millionaires, aristocrats, and their personal staff (maids, valets, and nurses).

📜 Notable Image:

📷 "The Crew and Passengers of One of the Titanic’s Life-Boats after the Disaster."

✔ A striking illustration emphasizing the contrast between wealthy passengers and working-class crew.

📜 Why This Matters:

✔ A rare mix of First-Class luxury and working-class struggle in one lifeboat.

✔ Provides insight into how Titanic's social classes interacted in a crisis.

✔ Highlights how personal servants accompanied their wealthy employers to safety.

📌 The Launch: One of the First Boats to Leave, Yet Not at Full Capacity

📌 Lifeboat 3 was the fourth to leave Titanic and was launched at 1:00 AM, more than an hour before Titanic sank. Yet, it left with only 38 people—far below its 65-person limit.

📜 Notable Image:

📷 "Lifeboat No. 3 from the RMS Titanic as Seen From the SS Carpathia."

✔ One of the few actual photographs of Titanic’s lifeboats after the sinking.

📜 Why This Matters:

✔ Raises ethical questions—why wasn’t it filled to capacity?

✔ Demonstrates the reluctance of passengers to enter lifeboats early in the disaster.

✔ Highlights that there was still time to save more people, but hesitation led to lost lives.

📌 The Drama: Lawsuits, Heroism, and One Man Who Jumped to Survive

🚢 Notable survivor stories from Lifeboat 3:

• 🌟 Socialite Charlotte Drake Cardeza survived but later filed the largest property loss claim of any passenger—$177,352.75 (over $5 million today) for luxury clothing, jewelry, and trunks lost.
• 💰 Banker Robert Williams Daniel jumped from Titanic at the last moment, swam in the freezing water, and was pulled aboard Lifeboat 3.
• 💼 Wealthy businessman Albert Adrian Dick, one of Canada’s early real estate moguls, survived with his 17-year-old bride Vera Dick—their honeymoon was cut tragically short.

📜 Why This Matters:

✔ Illustrates the financial and legal aftermath of the disaster.

✔ Shows how some passengers had to physically fight for survival, while others were given seats in lifeboats.

✔ Reveals how wealth influenced the Titanic experience—even after the sinking.

📌 The Firsthand Testimony: A Woman’s Perspective of Titanic’s Last Moments

📜 Survivor Elizabeth W. Shutes (a governess) provided one of the most detailed and haunting accounts of Titanic’s final moments:

💬 "Across the water swept that awful wail, the cry of those drowning people. It seemed to last eternally."

• She describes the eerie quiet before the ship sank, when passengers still believed Titanic was unsinkable.
• She vividly recounts the horror of the sinking, watching as the ship's lights blinked out one by one.
• She details the guilt and helplessness of those in the lifeboats, unable to rescue those in the freezing water.

📜 Why This Matters:

✔ Provides a firsthand emotional account of Titanic’s final moments.

✔ Gives insight into how passengers reacted to the disaster—some in disbelief, some in panic.

✔ Highlights the psychological trauma survivors endured.

📌 The Missed Opportunities: Why Didn’t Lifeboat 3 Go Back?

🚨 After Titanic sank at 2:20 AM, the lifeboat did NOT return to rescue passengers in the water.

📌 Reasons given for NOT going back:

• Passengers were terrified of being swamped.
• The seamen feared suction from the sinking ship (which turned out to be minimal).
• It was already so cold that people in the water were likely dead within minutes.

📜 Notable Quote:

💬 "She’s gone, lads. Row like hell, or we’ll get the devil of a swell." – A crew member on Lifeboat 3

📜 Why This Matters:

✔ Raises ethical dilemmas about survival decisions.

✔ Challenges the idea that all lifeboats should have returned—was it even possible?

✔ Highlights the debate about whether fear or logic dictated lifeboat decisions.

📚 Relevance for Different Audiences

📌 🧑‍🏫 For Teachers & Students:

✔ Explores social class dynamics aboard Titanic.

✔ Encourages debate about ethical survival decisions.

✔ Provides firsthand survivor accounts for primary source analysis.

📌 📖 For Historians & Maritime Researchers:

✔ Analyzes the early evacuation process of Titanic.

✔ Examines how financial power influenced survival rates.

✔ Explores the legal aftermath of the disaster through lawsuits and claims.

📌 🧬 For Genealogists & Family Historians:

✔ Offers passenger lists and crew names for research.

✔ Details survival patterns among different social classes.

✔ Provides valuable insight into how Titanic survivors' lives unfolded afterward.

🌟 Final Thoughts: The Legacy of Lifeboat 3

📌 Lifeboat 3 tells a story of privilege, survival, and regret.

✔ Despite being one of the first lifeboats launched, it was underfilled, leaving room for more survivors.

✔ It carried some of Titanic’s wealthiest passengers, showing how financial status influenced survival.

✔ Survivors’ firsthand accounts provide some of the most emotional and haunting descriptions of Titanic’s final moments.

🚢 Lifeboat 3 reminds us that survival is never just about luck—it’s about fear, decisions, and the human instinct to save oneself.