One of her most valuable possessions was the

Although she kept the list in a bank vault, it appears to have been stolen from her. It was not among her possessions when she died in Vancouver on 4 March 1993.

She also recalled the sinking in an interview with the Vancouver Province, in which she spoke of her mother reassuring her that if this were a nice night on Loch Ness you'd just be out for a row, and telling her, "don't worry honey, you weren't born to be drowned, you were born to be hanged."

In 1923 Bertha Watt married a Vancouver doctor, Leslie Marshall, and moved to British Columbia, where she became a Canadian citizen. She and her husband had two sons, James and Robert.

www.freewebs.com/titanic-children/roberthajosephinewatt.htm

   The life of Miss Robertha Josephine Watt, known to friends and family as 'Bertha,' began on September 11th 1899, her birth date ironically foreshadowing that of a recent American tragedy with loss of life even greater than the one she would come to survive. She and her mother, Elizabeth 'Bessie,' resided in Edinburg, Scotland, where their life was dominated by devotion to the Congregational Church and long, pleasant boat rides on the waters of Loch Ness. Like so many European citizens of the time, Robertha's architect father left Scotland for America to follow the age-old dream of bringing family members to the 'New World,' and in April of 1912, his wife and daughter traveled to Southampton to board a ship and join him. Again like many others, the Watts were originally booked on the New York, but due to a coal shortage, they were transferred to the Titanic. The Watts traveled second-class.

   In a 1950's letter to Walter Lord, author of the famous Titanic-related book A Night to Remember, Robertha recalls a strange incident which occurred the afternoon she and her mother boarded the liner:

"A queer little incident happened that afternoon. I remember Mother and some ladies having some tea, and as sometimes happened in those days, one of them read the teacups. Can't remember the lady's name, but in one cup she said, 'I can't see anything; it's like there's a black wall and nothing beyond.' Quite a good prediction for so many.

   Already, Robertha's young life is marked by warnings of what is to come. From her birth date to her fondness of rowing in a small boat through wide black waters to the identity of the ship in which she was originally booked - the same steamer which later nearly collided with and pierced the bow of the Titanic, as if in some dramatic act of revenge for taking away so many of its passengers - many aspects of her life seemed to foreshadow an event which left scars that she, unlike so many others, managed to heal through time.

   Unlike many others who were awed by the ship's immense size and luxury, Robertha's mother seems not to have been so impressed, judging from this letter she wrote on the Titanic on April 10th. She mailed it when the ship stopped at Queenstown, Ireland, to pick up more passengers and postage.

"W.S.L Titanic Wednesday, April 10th, 7:05 p.m.

At last you will see we have started to cross the Atlantic. We have just taken on passengers at Cherbourg (France) and tomorrow we go on to Queenstown (Ireland.) Oh dear, the style is awful. It seems it is not a fast boat; it is built for comfort, not speed, and they say we won't be in till Wednesday night (the 17th.)"

   Robertha and her mother occupied a stateroom with Ellen Mary Toomey, Rosa Pinsky and Marion Wright, fellow middle-class women. During the long days at sea, Robertha soon tired of the adult's conversations, but fortunately the 'ship of dreams' was a wonderland for an adventuresome, spirited girl of twelve. Teaming up with her newfound friend, fellow survivor 8-year old Marjorie Collyer, the two roamed the decks for days on end. It seemed Robertha also had a mature, refined side, as she could speak basic school French, and also passed time babysitting young Marcel and Edmond Navratil, toddlers from Paris who also survived the sinking.

  Robertha slept through the collision, but her mother was awakened by the tremendous jolt of the Titanic hitting the iceberg and the eerie silence that followed. Suspecting the worst, Elizabeth Watt threw on an overcoat, hurried out the cabin and up the stairs, questioning the crew what was wrong. Despite their assurances that all was perfectly fine, she went up on deck where she met a man from their hometown, who revealed to her that the ship had struck an iceberg. (This man was probably Mr. Simon Kutscher, the only other passenger on board from Edinburg, who was lost in the sinking.)

  Elizabeth raced back to the cabin to rouse Bertha, whose most vivid memory was being jostled awake in the dead of night and told to say her prayers, for the Titanic was in trouble. This nightmarish awakening from the week-long nostalgia of a carefree Edwardian vacation was one that would haunt her for years. Mother and daughter donned thick coats and, with their roommates, headed for the boat decks. As the company boarded Lifeboat 9, Robertha's mother comforted her, saying, "If this were a nice night on Loch Ness, we'd just be out for a row." The girl also remembered this strange bit of cold 'comfort' from the same woman: "You weren't born to be drowned; you were born to be hanged."  

  We didn't row much, just enough to get away from the suction. Then we puttered. We had to just drift around till dawn, occasionally flickering a gentleman's cigar lighter to let the other boats know where we were. The fellow at the tiller was an Irishman. Paddy had no authority, he was just a deckhand, but he was wonderful, telling me about the stars. It was calm.

  In charge of our boat was a fine old Irish seaman who did his best to keep folks in line ... By the time we got out just a little way, the Titanic was really going down by the nose, so Paddy, as we called him, said, 'Row for all you're worth or we'll be drawn down by the suction!' Two stewards were rowing, but it didn't look too experienced. Paddy asked the others for help. We heard cries for help but we couldn't see too well where they were ... The part regarding the sinking, how the ship broke apart in the middle and slid out of sight, is so plain to me that I could draw pictures of it. I remember sitting or standing with my eyes glued to the spot, watching lights go out almost as if I was hypnotized. Then all was calm and dark; up until them the lights of the ship gave some help, but as she sank lower and lower, row after row of lights went out. 

  I don't remember sloping around in the boat. There was nothing in the lifeboat but a keg of biscuits. No water, no liquor, no light. I don't know if the first-class lifeboats had all the things we needed, but if anyone was sick or collapsed in our boat, there was nothing to revive them with. It showed the disorganization. We didn't find the rudder until we were out quite a way.

  I had a nightie slipped into a pair of panties, and house slippers. Luckily, I had a fur-lined coat. They lined them with squirrel bellies in those days, and it had a fur collar.  

 They asked if anyone could row, and mother said she could. That's how she spent the time. Rowing or standing. A minister appeared out from under the seat. He must have gotten in before the lifeboat even left the deck. He sat with his chin on his walking stick moaning about all the years of sermons he had lost. One woman all but turned and flew at him - "If you can give me my husband and son back I'll pay for your sermons.

   We were near the stern of the boat and Paddy talked to me a great deal, told me about the stars, etc. but said they had no compass and no rudder in this boat so all we could do was row a little and hope we would see something coming. We had been told before we left the ship that this was all precautionary measures and the Olympic (Titanic's sister ship) would be along shortly to pick us all up. So after a while I saw a light away in the distance and called to Paddy. He answered that it wasn't a ship but one of our own boats who must be lucky to have a light. I wanted to know how he could tell, and he said from the height above the water.

   We didn't get aboard the Carpathia until about 9.a.m. There was a rope ladder with a belt. My mother said, "Go on, you can climb that. I went up without the belt." The captain roared down, "Don't let anyone come up without a belt on."

  I climbed the rope ladder without a belt. I had always been good at athletics in school and I think that morning I could have even climbed a single rope. But the Captain was very angry. We were all given hot toddy and a blanket, and some slept wherever they found a spot.

  At our table on Titanic was a very fine couple, Mr. and Mrs. Leopold Weisz ... He was one who never came home. He had done a beautiful drawing in my autograph album, but alas, that went with all other things. That first day on the Carpathia, she was in a bad way. My good mother must have walked miles with her up and down the decks while the ship stayed around all day Monday hoping to pick more up. Well, Mom finally got her calmed down and got her interested in helping a whole big table full of mothers and children who could not speak English. Madame Weisz could speak seven languages so sat at this table every meal and ordered for these folk. A great tribute should be paid her for her patience and help when her own heart was breaking."

   The Irish deckhand, 'Paddy,' who kept Robertha's company on the lifeboat, was probably Mr. James. R. McCough, a deckhand who survived the sinking in Lifeboat 9. His nickname was 'Paddy.' Although the last resided in England, he was probably Irish in heritage due to his Irish-sounding name and nickname. Additionally, the woman who 'all but flew' at the minister was probably Mrs. Jane Herman, due to her emotional status and the fact that she was the only woman in Lifeboat 9 who lost both her husband and her (adpoted) son, 14-year old George Sweet. Hot toddy, which Robertha recalls eating on the Carpathia, was a drink consisting of whiskey, brandy, and other liquors mixed with hot water, sugar and spices. Autograph albums, such as the one Robertha mentions, were albums in which many sophisticated young girls in the Victorian and Edwardian eras would collect autographs, poems and pictures from friends and acquaintances.

   The sinking, at first, had a great impact on Robertha, who as Elizabeth recalls was still in a bad state of shock on the Carpathia and went off eating for several days. There was so little room on the crowded rescue ship that the Watts had to sleep in the sailor's quarters. Because mother and daughter had lost nearly all their clothing on board the ship, Elizabeth stitched together a crude skirt made out of blankets for Robertha. Makeshift clothing sewn together with scraps was a common sight on board the Carpathia, as teams of both wealthy high-class ladies like Daisy Spedden and hardworking immigrants like Emily Goldsmith worked to replace the clothing their children had lost. (In fact, there is a well-known picture of 3-year old William Rowe Richards wearing a ragged pair of pyjamas sewn from a quilt donated by a Carpathia passenger.)

   When the survivors reached New York City, Elizabeth and Robertha were met by Mrs. Watt's brother, Mr. James Milne, who was infuriated at how badly they had been neglected in the lifeboat and later wrote in the Newark Evening News,

"Their dresses, constructed of blankets, were cut to fit the figure very crudely. Neither of them had shoes on when placed in the lifeboats. The story my sister tells me is outrageous and shows negligence which is worse than criminal."

   One of the Watts' roommates, Miss Marion Smith, who was engaged but had lost the address of her fiance on the Titanic, was invited to board with the Wattses until her husband-to-be could be located. The two lovers were soon reunited and married, with Elizabeth Watt as the bridesmade and James Milne giving Marion away. Robertha and her mother kept up a strong relationship with the new Mrs. Marion Woolcott and her husband for the rest of their lives, attending all the births of the Woolcott's sons. Robertha kept up the friendship after her mother's death in 1951.

   In 1923, after graduating from college, Robertha married a Canadian dentist, Leslie Marshall, and they moved to Vancouver, British Columbia. Robertha soon became an official Canadian citizen. They later had two sons, James and Robert. Unlike many survivors, she was not scarred for life after the disaster, but would rather have forgotten the whole thing and gotten on with her life. In fact, completely unafraid of water, she and Leslie often sailed the coastal waters of the Pacific throughout their married life. In 1985, when a reporter attempted to tie her in with the propaganda surrounding the discovery of the Titanic's wreck, she officially shunned publicity and fame in favor of a more quiet family life, responding to them, "I don't give a damn."   

 However, she wrote to Mr. Lord regarding his book A Night to Remember in the 1950's, she was emphatic in her criticism of J. Bruce Ismay, a Titanic passenger who also happened to be a high-ranking member of the White Star Line which had constructed the ship. Ismay's escape, probably in one of the last lifeboats to be lowered (despite what Robertha claims here), remained highly controversial for years, with many branding him a coward and believing he ought to have gone down with the ship. Robertha said:

  "How this has been a point of anger to me over the years, it's hard to explain. In one inquiry, Ismay was picked up by the Carpathia a good two to three hours ahead of us. Mr. Ismay was all tucked away in bed in a cabin long before half of us were landed on the Carpathia. Now they try to tell people how brave he was andhow he helped women into boats and only went into the last boat under pressure; well, we never saw him and we knew some of the people in the last boats off and he wasn't there either. So no one will ever whitewash him from me."

   One of Robertha's most treasured possessions would always be a second-class passenger list she had salvaged from the Titanic. "A day or so out, passengers were given booklets with the names of those in the same class," she would recall. "My mother had it in the pocket of her tweed coat. When we were picked up by the Carpathia, the officers borrowed it to radio the names of the second class passengers to New York." Although Robertha kept the list securely locked in a bank vault, it unfortunately appears to have been stolen from her. It was not among her possessions when she died at the age of 94 on March 3rd, 1993, and faded into obscurity as just another name on the Titanic's passenger list.

Joan Wells, summer 1912 Ralph Wells, summer 1912

Joan accompanied her mother and brother Ralph on the Titanic traveling to her father who had previously moved to live in Akron, Ohio.

In 1912, after leaving her home in Nevada Place, Heamoor, Addie was to join her husband and brother in Akron. She had sold her household furnishings before leaving, but had brought her family linen with her. The linen included pieces inherited from her mother and grandmother. She boarded the Titanic at Southampton traveling second class with her two young children ( ticket 29103, £23). They had been originally due to have travel on the Oceanic but were transferred due to the coal strikes.

The account of the sinking was told by her mother.

Saturday 20 April 1912

When the ship went down, people could still be heard screaming as they had been locked in their rooms. A memory that would cause Addie to have nightmares for years. The Wells' spent the night in the boat and were picked up at daybreak. On the Carpathia, she refused to sleep below and supposedly they slept on deck.

Both Joan and her brother, Ralph, lived in Akron until their deaths, Joan on 11 July 1933, aged 24 and Ralph 27 September 1972, aged 62.
Constance West Barbara West
Name: Miss Constance Mirium West and Miss Barbara Joyce West
Born: Tuesday 13th August 1907 Wednesday 24th May 1911
Age: 4 years 10 months and 22 days
Last Residence: in Bournemouth Dorset England
2nd Class passenger
First Embarked: Southampton on Wednesday 10th April 1912
Ticket No. 34651 , £27 15s
Destination: Gainesville United States
Rescued (boat 10)
Disembarked Carpathia: New York City on Thursday 18th April 1912
Died: Thursday 12th September 1963 Tuesday 16th October 2007

Constance West Barbara West

She survived the sinking aboard lifeboat 10 and returned to Truro with her mother and sister, having come back to England aboard the Celtic.

She remained in Cornwall for the rest of her life and died in Penzance in 1963.
Mrs. Barbara Dainton (nee West)

[Since this article was published Mrs Dainton has died (16th October 2007).]

Mrs. West is now 96 years old and is living in the English County of Cornwall. Mrs. Dainton has had a very busy and full life and at one time was a visitor guide in Truro Cathedral where there is a memorial to her father who was lost in the disaster. Sadly she is now incapacitated and needs full care.

Mrs. West always refused to discuss the Titanic disaster and with just a couple of exceptions she wanted ‘’nothing to do with Titanic interested people’’.

Barbara Joyce West was born in Bournemouth, England on 24 May 1911 to c

Barbara, her parents, and older sister, Constance, boarded the Titanic on 10 April 1912 at Southampton, England as second-class passengers. Barbara was just 10 months and 18 days old making her the second youngest passenger on board.

When the Titanic collided with an iceberg at 11:40 p.m. on 14 April 1912 Barbara was asleep in her cabin. Her mother, Ada, later recalled:

We were all asleep when the collision took place, but were only jolted in our berths-my husband and children not even being awakened, and it was only the hurrying of passengers outside the cabin that caused alarm. The steward made us all get up and dress thoroughly with plenty of warm things. Arthur placed lifebelts upon the children and then carried them to the boat deck. I followed carrying my handbag. After seeing us safely into the lifeboat, Arthur returned to the cabin for a thermos of hot milk, and, finding the lifeboat let down, he reached it by means of a rope, gave the (Thermos)flask to me, and, with a farewell, returned to the deck of the ship.

Arthur West perished on the cruise liner while his wife and children sang songs to drown out his screams. In doing so he nobly passed up the chance to join them and instead watched as two foreign men snuck on board and hid under the skirts of women passengers. His distraught widow then watched in shock as some survivors drank champagne on the rescue ship.

The paper Mining World said of Arthur West:

'It is impossible to write without emotion of the conduct of this heroic Cornishman who unquestionably might have saved his life had he chosen to take the place that, we suppose, was subsequently occupied by one of the women saved. Of such heroes the world is not worthy. Arthur West may be one of the least known of the Titanic heroes, but none will deny him the distinction of being one of the noblest'.

The artifacts, including the ancient flask, letters detailing Mrs. West's account of the sinking, and a letter written on board Titanic four days before by Mr. West, and still in the family, were made public for the first time 97 years after

his death.

In the letter he states that it had been an enjoyable voyage thus far with "scarcely a movement felt" adding: "I hope we have a calm trip....till we reach our journeys end."

Afterwards, Ada and Constance, five, and Barbara, who was 10-months-old, returned to Britain but barely spoke about the disaster.

The archive was handed down to Barbara who was the last but one British survivor of the Titanic when she died aged 96 in 2007. It is now being auctioned.

In her letters and account Mrs. West said: "The experiences I have been through with all the other poor creatures have been enough for two life times.

"We were among the first to leave the ship. Arthur placed lifebelts upon the children then carried them onto the boat deck.

"After seeing us safely into the lifeboat Arthur returned to the cabin for a Thermos of hot milk and finding the lifeboat let down he reached it by means of a rope, gave the flask to me, and, with a farewell returned to the deck of the ship."

Unbeknown to the two crew members in charge of the lifeboat, Japanese passenger Masabumi Hosono, 41, and Turk Neshan Krekorian, 25, had crept on board

Mrs. West wrote: "There were men in our boat who had concealed themselves under the ladies skirts and had to be asked to stop lighting cigarettes as there was a danger of the dresses becoming ignited."

She added: "It was only when I saw the ship sink and heard the awful cries and groans from the poor drowning creatures that I felt the least bit of fear as to his safety.

"There was no suggestion of going back to the ship when she sank and drowning people was heard.

"The steward who seemed to be in charge called out 'Pull up men – they're singing in the other boats. Give them a shout!'.

"The noise they made drowned all the cries and we gradually drew away from the scene of the wreck."

Ada West died aged 74 in 1953 and Constance West died in 1963 aged 56.

There is a memorial tablet at Truro Cathedral in honor of Edwy Arthur West, whose body was never recovered.

The surviving West family arrived in New York City aboard the RMS Carpathia on 18 April. Upon their arrival, Ada booked passage for herself and her daughters aboard the White Star Line's RMS Celtic. The ship arrived at Liverpool, England on May 6 and Ada gave birth to a third daughter, Edwyna Joan, on 14 September.

Ada died on 20 April 1953 at the age of 74 and Constance died on 12 September 1963 at the age of 56. Little is known about Barbara's sister, Edwyna.

As a child, Barbara attended the Worshipful Boarding School in Purley, England and went on to attend the Truro High School all girls' school and St. Luke's College in Exeter.[2] After college, Barbara became a governess to a Cornish family and moved with them to Spain until the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War in 1936. After returning to England, Barbara taught at a high school in Guildford, England.

In the 1950s, Barbara starting teaching at a Truro, England school and later became deputy head of physical education at a Plymstock school until 1972.

In 1938, Barbara married Stanley Winder, a rugby-player. The two were married for 13 years before Stanley died of a heart attack in 1951. Barbara was married to her second husband, William Ernest Barrel Dainton from 1952 until his death in 1990.

Throughout her life, Barbara avoided all publicity associated with the Titanic. As she aged and became one of only a handful of living survivors, interest in Barbara's story grew, but she refused to discuss the disaster outside her family circle often saying she wanted 'nothing to do with the Titanic people'. She did, however, communicate sparingly with the British Titanic Society, but such communication was heavily guarded.

Her later years saw her living in Truro, England where she volunteered as a guide at the Truro Cathedral where lies a memorial tablet to her father. Shortly before her death, Barbara became incapacitated and required full-time care.