Category: Crewmember Profiles

The Titanic was Paul Maugé's first-ever ship.

Having joined up on April 6, 1912, he was to act as the so-called "Secretary to the Chef" in the First-class restaurant a la carte. 

He had just turned 25 years old.

Paul, whose full name was Paul Achille Maurice Germain Maugé, was Parisian by birth, and an illegitimate child by contemporary mores.

As a member of the restaurant staff on Titanic, Paul would have been bunked on E-Deck; the only exception to this standard appears to have been Luigi Gatti, who was the restaurant's manager and overseer.

The a la carte restaurant, otherwise referred to as the Ritz, was an independent dining establishment available exclusively to First-class clientele.

The Ritz catered to those who felt compelled to further distinguish, or perhaps remove themselves, from their perceived lessers.

Mr. Gatti, the owner of two popular restaurants in London, also ran the a la carte restaurant on Titanic's elder sister, Olympic.

And with that success, Mr. Gatti unveiled its counterpart on Titanic; the latter, however, could seat more patrons--and therefore, mandated additional staff.

Paul Maugé's position as the Secretary to the Chef was a novel addition to the structuring of the Ritz. It is rumored, though not confirmed to date, that his pay exceeded that of even Second Officer Lightoller.

Essentially a kitchen clerk, Paul may have acted as a  bookkeeper, dealing in fiscal matters; it has also been suggested that Paul functioned as the maitre d'hotel, a front-facing representative, or even heir apparent, to Luigi Gatti.

Paul himself, however, consistently described himself as a Secretary to the Chef, and he attested to being in said chef's company for the duration of the sinking.

The chef was named Pierre Rousseau.

Paul Maugé's movements throughout the voyage are undocumented, but it reasonable to assume he was simply carrying out his duties.

On the night of April 14, 1912, Paul stated that he was roused from sleep by his cabin-mate, an unnamed pastry chef, getting up from bed in response to the iceberg strike.

He claimed to have then heard an "alarm signal"--a ringing bell--that is believed to have been sounded in the watertight compartments. Paul, however, testified that the alarm existed to alert Third-class passengers.

Paul then went to "the front of the ship" on the "First-class passenger deck" to ascertain what was happening, where he insisted he saw the first lifeboat being lowered. On the way back down toward his cabin, he claimed to have witnessed Captain Smith on his return from the boiler rooms.

Paul, with his accommodations situated on E-Deck, also encountered flummoxed steerage passengers. "A lot of persons came from the front and went to the back," he said. "Some of them with luggage, some with children. Some showed us a piece of ice."

Sufficiently alert to danger now, Paul thusly determined to make his way to Chef Rousseau.

Paul suspected that he and Chef Rousseau were permitted to pass by the stewards because they were not uniformed, but dressed in plainclothes.

"[The stewards] let me pass, Me and the chef, because I was dressed like a passenger," Paul said. "I think that was why they let me pass."

Once the pair of men reached the upper decks, they waited and watched for the other restaurant staff to appear up top.

But they never did.

Paul insisted that a small number of unidentified stewards kept them back. "I cannot say after that how they managed to try to pass," he said. "Anyway they could not pass because I stood on the second class passenger deck for half-an-hour."

After this half-hour has passed, Paul and Chef Rousseau ascended the boat deck.

Finding themselves on the starboard side, Paul and Pierre Rousseau looked on as some of the last boats were lowered, though the order of said boats is uncertain.

It was then that Paul realized an opportunity for salvation. "About six or ten persons were jumping in" a lifeboat from the top deck, and Paul spontaneously made his move to do the same.

"The second or third lifeboat was between two decks and I jumped directly from the top deck to this lifeboat," he explained. "It was going to the water, but it was between two decks when I jumped."

But Chef Rousseau would not follow.

Paul later claimed that, at that exact moment, a man on Titanic tried to remove him from his seat by catching him by the back of his coat as the lifeboat was lowered past--or perhaps was level with--a lower deck.

He did not see the chef again.

Pierre Rousseau perished in the sinking. His remains, if ever recovered, went unidentified.

Paul, having rescued himself in what is now presumed to have been Lifeboat 13, went on to testify at the British Inquiry on Day 19--although his testimony was apparently a bit befuddling due to a language barrier.

Of 69 restaurant employees on Titanic, Paul Maugé was one of only three who survived the disaster.

He went on to marry twice. He eventually moved with his second wife to Montreal, Canada, where he died in 1971 at the age of 83.

The Slade brothers—Alfred, Thomas, and Bertram—were brothers, all in their mid-twenties at the time Titanic was berthed in Southampton.

And they were all of them seasoned seagoers.

Alfred had just wrapped up a gig on a ship called Highland Glen, while Bertram and Thomas had both transferred off of Titanic’s elder sister Olympic before she departed Southampton for New York City on March 30th. 

On April 6th, the Slade trio successfully signed onto Titanic’s maiden voyage as firemen. All three brothers listed their address as 21 Chantry Road in Southampton, where they lived with their mother.

The Titanic was scheduled to depart Southampton at noon on April 10th.

The Slade boys were expected to muster alongside their fellow sign-ons at 8:00 a.m. And they did so.

Names were taken down, and orders were issued. The crew were instructed to stand by until the ship departed. Most of the men, including the Slades, elected to return to shore to while away the time.

A fellow fireman named John Podesta, who according to his sign-on record was a neighbor of the Slade family on Chantry Road, also chose to go ashore. 

John continued, stating that he and his “watch-mate” William left the Newcastle around 11:15 a.m., bound for the docks.

But they shortly thereafter decided they had more than enough time to sneak in one more round at The Grapes, a public house on Oxford Street.

There, John and William ran into the Slade brothers, perhaps alongside three or four other wayward firemen—among them a boy with the surname Penney, who reportedly boarded with the Slade family and for whom Titanic was his first-ever ship.

According to John Podesta, the group of six or so finally exited The Grapes at only ten minutes to noon to make their harried way to the Titanic.

But then fate rode in.

So, while John Podesta and William Nutbean risked crossing the tracks as the train approached, the Slade trio decided to hang back.

The brothers have been described as "relaxed" in that moment--perhaps euphemistically.

Alfred, Tom, and Bertram Slade, along with their housemate Penney, finally reached the Titanic at 11:59 a.m.

Her final gangway connecting the ship to the dock had just been pulled away.

Thanks to their daring, John Podesta and William Nutbean had managed to make it just in time.

But the Slade brothers and the others with them were simply out of luck.

Sixth Officer James Moody oversaw that particular gangway.

After Podesta and Nutbean had presumably barreled their way on board, Officer Moody had withdrawn the gangway, only to briefly drop it back into place to allow a delivery boy to disembark the Titanic.

And as Officer Moody ordered the gangway pulled back for the second time, the disordered Slades ran up.

Still on the dock with bags hung ready from their shoulders, the boys shouted their appeals up the ship's side. They demanded to be let on board.

But Officer Moody would not give in.

The errant Slades had been already substituted by other able firemen who had been standing by on the dock, who no doubt had been waiting for just such an opportunity to arise.

Second-class passenger Lawrence Beesley likewise observed the confrontation from afar, and he chronicled it in his memoir.

Lawrence's retelling--so characteristically detailed--buoys the report that Officer Moody was not of a permissive temperament that day, and the Slade boys were hardly calm as they pled their case.

Tom, Bertram, Alfred, and their friend Penney were unceremoniously left behind by the Titanic.

Because the Slade boys had successfully mustered on Titanic that morning only to no-show at zero hour, they were marked as "deserted". So was Penney.

And so were other firemen and trimmers by the names of B. Brewer, Frank Holden, and J. Shaw, who perhaps due to their shared status as deserters, are sometimes claimed to have also been part of the fated group at The Grapes that day.

John Podesta and William Nutbean were lucky to have beaten the clock on April 10th, and luckier still only days later: they both survived the sinking of the Titanic.

The firemen brought on the replace the Slade trio, however, did not.

Mrs. Slade is reported to have been interviewed by the Southampton Times & Hampshire Express about her sons' most fortunate mishap in an article published on April 20, 1912.

"What a good job they missed their ship!" she supposedly exclaimed. "I have thanked God ever since."