by Patricia Robinson

It was billed as the unsinkable ship when it was first launched to much fanfare in 1911, but less than a year later during an Atlantic crossing 110 years ago today disaster struck.

RMS Titanic, a 52,000-tonne ship, collided with an iceberg and sunk, with 1,517 of 2,240 people on board killed.

In the wake of the tragedy local people wrote letters to family members back home which shed a grim light on the horror experienced during the early hours of April 15, 1912.

One describes being in a life boat which bumped down the side of the stricken ocean liner, the screams of the dying ringing out in the night.

Another tells how as she climbed into a rescue boat one woman lost her footage and was left dangling in the air many meters above the freezing water.

Richard Henry Rouse, 50, who for many years had worked in Sittingbourne as a brickfield labourer; and Frank Goldsmith, whose wife Emily was born in Milton on August 26, 1880, were unable to escape and lost their lives that night.

Emily, together with their son Frank (19/12/1902-27/1/1982) both survived.

They were rescued by the Carpathia and taken to New York, before travelling to Detroit, Michigan, to join her parents. There Emily married Harry Illman (26/9/1881- 25/1/1963) on May 2, 1914, and she died in Ohio on September 22, 1958.

The photo is of Emily and Frank Goldsmith, with their eldest son Frank and Albert (who died in 1911).

At the time, The East Kent Gazette printed a letter sent by Emily to her family.

“We were all asleep when the Titanic crashed against the iceberg, but the jar was enough to wake us up. In the semi-darkness we ascended to the topmost deck and got into the lifeboat. It was the next to the last to leave, and the descent into the water was the most terrifying part of all our experience," she wrote.

“The lifeboat bumped against the side of the Titanic, and once so many people got on one side that it seemed the boat would turn over und spill us all into the sea. We reached the surface of the water in safety and put off with five members of the crew rowing. As we rowed away the shrieks of the dying could be heard arising from the water, but it was so dark that we were unable to see the men floating on the surface.”

Another survivor was Kate Buss, who was born in Sittingbourne on Christmas Day 1875.

Kate described what it was like having to climb the rigging to get on board the Carpathia.

She said: “The first woman lost her footing, and was hanging mid-way while our boat left the side of the vessel, and so she had nothing to fall into if she fell.

“They attempted to let them climb without the rope, and orders were shouted down that one rope was to be used in every case.

“I was willingly the first woman to climb, I felt I would almost rather the boat turned upside down than attempt it. But I made myself climb calmly, as though it were an ordinary ladder.

“They hauled me up the last few steps, and waiting at the top was someone with a rug, who wrapped it around me and half carried me into the saloon.

“There all the stewards were busy making hot brandy and water for each person as they came up.”

Kate's father was a grocer, and before the doomed voyage she became a grocer’s assistant, then was the manageress of a drapery department.

Her fiancée, Samuel George Willis (13/10/1873-4/2/1953) was the son of Henry Willis, a tailor and outfitter in Sittingbourne High Street. He had emigrated to California in September 1908, and Kate was on her way to marry him there.

After she was rescued and taken to New York she was looked after by friends who lived there. Then followed the 3,000-mile journey to California, where she married Samuel. They had a daughter, Sybil (4/2/1913-24/7/2007), and Kate died on July 12, 1972, in Oregon.