The Laroches had taken possession of their “apartment,” as Joseph called their cabin, with the same joy as the first 944 passengers who, six hours earlier, had boarded the ship in Southampton, the starting point of the Titanic’s journey. The cabin was located on rear deck F. It was equipped with very beautiful furniture, a double sink, and a sofa bed, in addition to the bunks.
“This is better than a five-star hotel. This was no rip-off,” Juliette exclaimed.
The crossing had cost the entire family a little over forty-one pounds; the ticket, number 2123, delivered by the White Star Line, proved it. Joseph kept it safely in his jacket pocket. To him, second class on the Titanic was worth first class on any other liner. There was no comparison anyway with the modest service he’d received, eleven years ago, on the boat that had taken him to France.
"I enjoyed myself as if I were on a summer palace by the seashore surrounded by every comfort. I was up early before breakfast and met the professional racquet player in a half-hours warm-up for a swim in the six-foot-deep tank of saltwater heated to a refreshing temperature."
—Colonel Archibald Gracie, Titanic survivor
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At 8:10 p.m., illuminated by a thousand lights, the Titanic left Cherbourg for a last stopover in Queenstown23, Ireland, where it picked up another one hundred and twenty-three travelers, mainly third-class passengers, some escaping poverty, others in search of adventure, all believing in a better tomorrow. Before they could be on their way to live the American dream, however, they first had to pass the health inspection—only required for the third class—before boarding, with the risk of being driven back if signs of any serious disease were discovered. These last Irish travelers joined Slav, Scandinavian, Chinese, or Lebanese immigrants who’d embarked in Southampton and Cherbourg. Housed in more modest cabins, they occupied the front and back of the ship, with their own dining room, smoking room, and a bar for playing cards. When they wanted to stretch their legs, members of the third-class didn’t get to walk along an open deck like the wealthier passengers; instead, they walked on the aft well deck, which also served for walking the dogs.
Just like these immigrants, Juliette, Simone, and Louise were also leaving for a great adventure: for the first time, they would visit Joseph’s birth country, this faraway land he so often told them about. Was it as beautiful as he said? Although a bit apprehensive, Juliette was hopeful. The first hours spent on the Titanic reassured her. She was no longer doubting the future as much, and was enjoying the company of her handsome husband and their adorable daughters.
"Each night, the sun sank right in our eyes along the sea, making an undulating glittering pathway, a golden track charted on the surface of the ocean which our ship followed unswervingly until the sun dipped below the edge of the horizon, and the pathway ran ahead of us faster than we could steam and slipped over the edge of the skyline—as if the sun had been a golden ball and had wound up its thread of gold too quickly for us to follow."
—Lawrence Beesley, Titanic survivor
“My mom was very enthusiastic,” Louise recounts at the commemoration on the Cherbourg dock, on April 19, 1996. “She was describing the luxury of the ship, the quality of the music band.”24 Louise is referring to a letter written on the Titanic by her mother. She greatly treasures it. “Knowing what happened after, one cannot help feeling great emotion while reading this correspondence.”
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During the night of April 14th to 15th, 1912, in the freezing waters of the North Atlantic Ocean, off the coast of Newfoundland, unimaginable tragedy struck. Oh, the terror. The horror! “We hit an iceberg,” Captain Edward John Smith announced to the radio operators. “Be ready to send a distress signal!”
While the Titanic sank, attempts were made at evacuation. Everywhere, the scene was horrendous. Passengers screamed. Others cried. In the melee, as the passengers tried to access a lifeboat, it was everyone for themselves, and many gave in to panic.
In the end, out of the 2,208 people on board, 1,496 perished.
“My mother, my sister and I were saved. My father was not allowed to get on a lifeboat. He did not survive.” Behind her round-rimmed glasses, Louise is emotional. The ceremony on the Cherbourg dock is ending; she had not set foot on the premises since the tragedy.
She describes her father as a hero. Out of everything they told her when she was old enough to understand, this word is the only one that brings the hint of a smile on Louise’s face. Her father, a hero! Her mother described the final scene to her so well that she knows each detail by heart.
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The Titanic’s Lifeboat “Collapsible D” was towed to the Carpathia by Lifeboat No. 14 (not pictured).
Sinking of the Titanic. The lifeboats row away from the still lighted ship on April 15th 1912.
“Striking the water was like a thousand knives being driven into one’s body. The temperature was twenty-eight degrees, four degrees below freezing.”
—Charles Lightoller, Second Officer aboard Titanic
In the general panic that followed the collision between the Titanic and the iceberg, the Laroche family had been split. Juliette and Simone had miraculously found themselves on a lifeboat, while Joseph was still struggling on the deck with Louise, who was close to suffocating in his arms. In the indescribable scramble for survival, he protected the child by giving elbow blows and pushing back the crowd in order to make his way through. And then there was a loud exchange with a crew member, as Joseph tried to make him understand, with desperate gestures, that he had to take Louise to the lifeboat where her mother was waiting. Because there were not enough boats for everyone, the sailor would not have any of it. He was completely overwhelmed by the circumstances, but Joseph insisted. He yelled. He implored. He begged. Another sailor finally understood him in the widespread panic and grabbed Louise to bring her down.
Upon seeing his loving family reunited in the lifeboat, all ready to go, Joseph yelled a few words of relief to his wife. “See you soon, my love!… There will be space for everyone, in the boats… Take care of our little girls… See you soon!”
Those were his last recorded words.
On boat No. 825, Juliette, Simone, and Louise Laroche disappeared into the cold night, a few other lifeboats behind them. On boat No. 10, Antonie Mallet was holding her son André. Albert, her husband, had not been permitted to come with them.
The wait then started, between anguish and hope.
Hours later, flares lit up the sky. They were coming from the Carpathia26. The ship had changed course after receiving the distress signals from the Titanic.
“From all the small boats raised a rumbling. Passengers now understood that relief was near. Soon, all the survivors of the Titanic were aboard the Carpathia. Seven hundred or so. Rare were those who, among these survivors, had not left a father, a brother, a son, or a husband aboard the sinking ship,” Juliette recounts. “When we asked news from the officers of the Carpathia, they replied: ‘Don’t worry! Other ships went by the Titanic, and are right now headed toward New York, where you will find your loved ones.’ Thus, they hid the truth to the end. Not until our arrival in New York did we learn it in whole, in its horrifying reality.”
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In April 1996, on the Cherbourg dock where she is paying homage to the victims of the sinking, Louise knows that she’s