Titanic

The Witness of John Harper

In the first moments of Monday, April 15th, 1912, many men and women sought their own best, sometimes at the expense of others. However, several seldom-celebrated individuals ignored that urge for mere self-preservation and followed a more ancient code. “Greater love has no one than this,” the New Testament tells us, “than he lay down his life for his friends.”

John “Jack” Phillips and Harold Bride had been working feverishly, trying to catch up on a huge backlog of passenger messages to be sent to the mainland via the wireless station at Cape Race, Newfoundland. The in-box was loaded with outgoing messages. It was no wonder they didn’t know the ship was in trouble.

The Titanic’s captain, E. J. Smith, poked his head in the wireless shack just after midnight. “We’ve struck an iceberg…,” the Captain announced. “You better get ready to send out a call for assistance, but don’t send it until I tell you.” The captain returned a few minutes later: “Send the call for assistance.” He handed them a piece of paper with the Titanic’s position.

From that point on, First Operator Phillips and Second Operator Bride remained at their post, communicating via Morse Code with many ships, but the one that made a difference was the Carpathia, some 58 miles to the southeast.

Phillips and Bride stayed at their post literally to the final minutes, as the sea water began to rise toward the radio room. They were able to clmb onto an overturned “collapsible” lifeboat. Though the frostbitten Bride survived, Phillips died sometime during the night from exposure, silently slipping off the lifeboat and into the icy waters.

Arthur H. Rostron commanded the Carpathia, a much smaller passenger ship of the rival Cunard line. Immediately upon receiving word of Titanic’s plight from his ship’s wireless operator, Rostron changed course and fired up the boilers to full steam. Though her top speed was only 14 knots, the Carpathia would soon be steaming through the same ice field that crippled and sank the Titanic.

Within minutes Rostron had summoned all his department heads to the bridge and delivered detailed instruction. They had three-and-a-half hours to prepare for hundreds of ocean refugees. Besides his reputation for quick decisions and high energy, Rostron was also known for another character trait. he was a man of prayer.

After all preparations were well under way and he was briefed as to their progress, he lifted his cap a few inches above his head and in the darkness of the bridge silently moved his lips in prayer. After the survivors were all aboard, and before leaving the scene, Rostron led a brief memorial service in memory of those perished and in thanksgiving for those spared.

“When day broke,” the captain told a friend years later, “I saw the ice I had steamed through during the night, I shuddered, and could only think that some other Hand than mine was on that helm during the night.”

Much earlier that same night, hours before the Titanic’s starboard bow fatally glanced the iceberg, the Reverend John Harper had braved the cold to stand on deck with a few other passengers after dinner. A beautiful sunset colored the western horizon. “It will be beautiful in the morning,” Harper said to his sister-in-law, who along with his 6-year-old daughter, Nina, was traveling with him to Moody Church in Chicago.

After the collision, Harper, a Baptist pastor from Scotland, awakened Nina from her slumber, wrapped her in a blanket and carried her up to a deck. He kissed her good-bye and handed her to a crewman, who gave her to Harper’s sister-in-law in lifeboat #11. That was the last the two saw of him.

Though his later exploits are not certain, it has been reported that Harper gave his lifebelt to another man before he went down with the ship. A brochure in the possession of Harper’s grandson, printed after the disaster, was recently shown to an American writing a book on Harper. In the brochure’s Foreword is written a first-person account by a nameless survivor. In this brochure, whether legend or true, the survivor tells of finding himself, with hundreds of others, “struggling in the cold, dark waters of the Atlantic.”

“I caught hold of something and clung to it for dear life, the wail of the perishing all around was ringing in my ears.” A stranger drifted near him and encouraged him to look to Jesus for his soul’s safety.

The two drifted apart and then together again. The stranger, floating alongside in the 28-degree waters, encouraged him again to call out to Jesus. As they drifted apart, the stranger could be hard making his same plea to others struggling in the moonless night.

“Then and there,” the nameless survivor concludes, “with two miles of water beneath me, in my desperation I cried to Christ to save me.” This same survivor later claimed that to his knowledge the selfless counselor, thinking of the eternal welfare of others in his final minutes, was the Rev. John Harper.

Shackleford, “Of Greater Love,” Pursuit, Vol. VII, 1998, p. 17

Witness of John Harper

Let me take you back in time; the date is Wednesday, April 10, 1912, and the world watches in awe as the glamorous Titanic begins her maiden voyage. But, little did the world know that the greatest ship man ever made would be on the bottom of the Atlantic ocean only four days later.

And on that ship, in the second-class section, was a man named John Harper who was coming to America to preach here at Moody Church.

I first heard the phenomenal story of John Harper, many years ago while growing up in Canada. My brother showed me a one-page tract titled I was Harper’s Last Convert. It was the story, told by a man, who floated next to Harper briefly in the icy waters of the Atlantic.

If you had been with John Harper on the Titanic that fateful night you would have felt a tremendous jolt when the mighty ship collided with an iceberg on the starboard side of her bow. You would have heard the hull plates buckle as an iceberg tore a 300-foot long gash in the side of the ship.

And you may have even heard the panic in the Captain’s voice when he knew his ship was sinking, and he only had enough lifeboats for half of the passengers….

The Captain also knew he had to keep order among the 2,227 people on board. So he asked John Harper to remain on deck and keep peace among the passengers.

If you had been on deck you would have seen families torn apart. Husbands saying goodbye as they watched their wives and children leave on lifeboats. Wives deciding to stay on board to die with their husbands. Children waving goodbye to their parents—and praying that they would see each other again.

And you would have seen John Harper kiss his six-year-old daughter, Nana, goodbye and put her safely in a lifeboat.

As the minutes crept by, and all of the lifeboats were gone, 1,521 people were left on board the sinking ship—including Harper.

With every minute that passed the deck became steeper as the bow plunged under the water. Finally the ship broke in two, hurling the remaining passengers into the icy depths of the Atlantic.

It is said the ships lights blinked once, then went out, leaving people to freeze to death in the darkness of the Atlantic.

And the few hundred people that were safe in lifeboats could see their husbands, fathers, and many other families as they were shrieking in terror and thrashing in the water trying to gasp for breath.

But, during this horrific tragedy God was at work.

You see, Harper wasn’t afraid to die; he knew that he was going to come face to face with his Maker. And he wanted other people to know his Lord and Savior.

So with death lurking over him, Harper yelled to a man in the darkness, “Are you saved?”

“No,” replied the man.

“Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and ye shall be saved!” Harper screamed as he struggled in the dark, cold, Atlantic.

Then the men drifted apart into the darkness. But later the current brought them back together. Weak, exhausted, and frozen, a dying Harper yelled once more, “Are you saved?”

“No!”

Harper repeated once again, “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and ye shall be saved.” And with that, Harper slipped down into his watery grave.

The man whom Harper sought to win to Christ was rescued by the S.S. Carpathia. Because of Harper, he dedicated his life to Jesus Christ right there, two miles above the floor of the ocean, and lived to tell people that he was Harper’s Last Convert.

It makes me wonder, how many other dying people did Harper convert before he drowned? Harper sacrificed his own life so he could share the plan of salvation with the dying. He was a man who lived and died by his immense faith in Jesus Christ.

There are so many things that come to mind when people speak about the great loss of human life on the Titanic. Some may even ask could it have been avoided?

What if the owner hadn’t determined to surprise America by arriving a night early? Or if the Captain hadn’t cut the corner on an area of ocean they knew had been dangerous before? Or simply, what if the lookout’s binoculars hadn’t been missing from the crow’s nest?

If only one of these things had not been the case, the Titanic might have been the very definition of luxury, romance, and fortitude.

But those things did happen. I like to ask, what if John Harper hadn’t been on board traveling to Moody Church? How many people would have died not knowing that they could be eternally saved?

Erwin Lutzer, The Moody Church Radio Ministries monthly letter, June, 1998