“Are you sure it is the Titanic and requires immediate assistance?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You are absolutely certain?”
“Quite certain.”
“All right, tell him we are coming along as fast as we can.”

The leadership of Captain Arthur H. Rostron in the hours following the sinking of Titanic remain to this day a masterpiece of crisis management.

From the moment Captain Rostron was informed of the distress messages received from Titanic, every order he issued was intended to get to the stricken ship as quickly as possible, all the while preparing his own ship to receive survivors and give them the care they needed.

Years later, his actions on the night of April 14, 1912 were vividly brought to life by author Walter Lord in his classic “A Night to Remember: The Sinking of the Titanic”.

For anyone looking for a source of inspiration or who needs a reminder of what leadership in a crisis looks like, read on:

Excerpt from A Night to Remember:

Captain Rostron then rushed into the chart room and worked out the Carpathia’s new course. As he figured and scribbled, he saw the boatswain’s mate pass by, leading a party to scrub down the decks.

Rostron told him to forget the decks and prepare the boats for lowering. The mate gaped. Rostron reassured him, “It’s all right; we’re going to another vessel in distress.”

In a few moments the new course was set—North 52 West. The Carpathia was 58 miles away. At 14 knots she would take four hours to get there. Too long.

Rostron sent for Chief Engineer Johnstone, told him to pour it on—call out the off-duty watch … cut off the heat and hot water … pile every ounce of steam into the boilers.

Next, Rostron sent for First Officer Dean. He told him to knock off all routine work, organize the ship for rescue operations. Specifically, prepare and swing out all boats … rig electric clusters along the ship’s side … open all gangway doors … hook block and line rope in each gangway … rig chair slings for the sick and injured, canvas and bags for hauling up children at every gangway … drop pilot ladders and side ladders at gangways and along the sides … rig cargo nets to help people up … prepare forward derricks (with steam in the winches) to hoist mail and luggage aboard … and have oil handy to pour down the lavatories on both sides of the ship, in case the sea grew rough.

Then he called the ship’s surgeon, Dr. McGhee: collect all the restoratives and stimulants on the ship … set up first-aid stations in each dining saloon … put the Hungarian doctor in charge of Third Class … the Italian doctor in Second … McGhee himself in First.

Now it was Purser Brown’s turn: see that the Chief Steward, the Assistant Purser and himself each covered a different gangway—receive the Titanic’s, passengers … get their names … channel them to the proper dining saloon (depending on class) for medical check.

Finally, another barrage of orders for Chief Steward Harry Hughes: call out every man … prepare coffee for all hands … have soup, coffee, tea, brandy and whisky ready for survivors … pile blankets at every gangway … convert smoking room, lounge and library into dormitories for the rescued … group all the Carpathia’s steerage passengers together, use the space saved for the Titanic’s steerage.

He then sent for the master-at-arms to keep the steerage passengers under control. After all, no one knew how they’d react to being shuffled about.

The ship sprang to life. Down in the engine room it seemed as if everyone had found a shovel and was pouring on the coal. The extra watch tumbled out of their bunks and raced to lend a hand. Most didn’t even wait to dress. Faster and faster the old ship knifed ahead—14 … 14½ … 15 … 16½ … 17 knots.

No one dreamed the Carpathia could drive so hard. In the crew’s quarters a tug at his blanket woke up Steward Robert H. Vaughan. A voice told him to get up and dress. It was pitch-black, but Vaughan could hear his roommates already pulling on their clothes. He asked what was up, and the voice said the Carpathia had hit an iceberg. Vaughan stumbled to the porthole and looked out. The ship was driving ahead, white waves rolling out from her side.

When they reached the deck, an officer put them to work collecting blankets. Then to the First Class dining saloon … now a beehive of men scurrying about, shifting chairs, resetting tables, moving the liquor from the bar to the buffet.

Elsewhere word spread that Captain Rostron wanted 3,000 blankets for “that many extra people.” But nobody knew why. At 1:15 they learned. The stewards were all mustered into the main dining saloon and Chief Steward Hughes announced, “Titanic is sinking. We’re going north like hell”. He explained their duties … paused … then delivered his ending: “Every man to his post and let him do his full duty like a true Englishman.”

Carpathia endured its own hazards that night, dodging icebergs along the entire 58-mile route. Much later Rostron noted that the safety of his crew and passengers, and the survival of any Titanic survivors they might reach, “depended on the sudden turn of the wheel.”

The Carpathia arrived at the distress position at 4:00 a.m., approximately an hour and a half after the Titanic went down, claiming more than 1,500 lives. For the next four and a half hours, the ship took on the 705 survivors of the disaster from Titanic's 20 lifeboats.

Hundreds of wireless messages were sent from Cape Race and other shore stations addressed to Captain Rostron from relatives of Titanic passengers and journalists demanding details in exchange for money. Rostron ordered that no news stories would be transmitted directly to the press. Early on the morning of Tuesday 16 April, Carpathia finally arrived in New York.

For their rescue work, the crew of Carpathia were awarded medals by the survivors. Crew members were awarded bronze medals, officers silver, and Captain Rostron was knighted by King George V, and was later a guest of President Taft at the White House, where he was presented with a Congressional Gold Medal, the highest honour the United States Congress could confer.