Robert James Timmis was born in Liverpool, Lancashire, England, on the 4th November 1865, the son of John and Sarah Ann Timmis (née Bell). At the time of his birth, the family were living at 11. Mackenzie Street, Everton, Liverpool. His father was a tailor’s foreman.
Nothing is known about his childhood or early life; however, it is thought that he emigrated to the United States of America around 1887, where he first settled in Atlanta, Georgia, and then in Gainesville, Texas, in 1899. He was a cotton broker and had established his own firm in Gainesville.
On the 17th April 1901, he married Sylvia Conson in Gainesville, and they had at least four children.
In the spring of 1915, Robert Timmis decided to travel to England, on what was described as his “annual visit” and was to be accompanied by another Englishman, Ralph Moodie, who was also a cotton broker living in Gainesville. Consequently, having booked his ticket, (number 46118), through Williams & Prehn, of the New York Cotton Exchange, he and Moodie set off by rail from Gainesville at the end of April 1915 and arrived in New York in time to join the Lusitania at her berth at Pier 54, for her sailing on 1st May 1915.
Once on board, he was allocated room A27, which was under the personal supervision of First Class Bedroom Steward Charles Randall, who came from Gateacre, on the outskirts of Liverpool. Ralph Moodie’s room, A26, was not far away.
From the time that the liner left harbour - just after mid-day - Timmis and Moodie were inseparable companions and although Moodie did not survive the sinking by the German submarine U-20, six days out of New York and only hours from the Lusitania’s destination, Timmis did! He was plucked from the sea, by the Royal Naval patrol boat H.M.S. Indian Empire, an ex-civilian trawler taken up from trade for war service, which helped to rescue many of the survivors. He was then landed at Queenstown and eventually proceeded to England.
Not long after the sinking, an account of his experiences was published in the book The Tragedy of the Lusitania by Captain Frederick D. Ellis and in this, Timmis stated: -
R.J. Timmis, a Gainesville, Texas, cotton buyer, who was brought to Queenstown, declared that he believed a great deal of the loss of life could have been avoided had the stewards not gone about amongst the passengers, assuring them that all was well and that there need be no fear of the ship sinking. Mr. Timmis said: “I was dining on D deck when the Lusitania was struck. I rushed to my cabin for my lifebelt. Before I could adjust it, I gave it to a panic-stricken woman, a steerage passenger who had none of her own. I went to the port side, where I saw one of the lifeboats get away. I assisted the crew in lowering the next one, but it turned over and threw the sixty occupants into the water.
At this time the stewards began rushing around the deck, crying: ‘She's all right! She isn't going to sink! Get out of the boats!’ Many of the people complied and returned to the decks. Before they could get back into the boats the Lusitania was awash.
I was submerged when she plunged under, but I am a fairly good swimmer, and was able to keep afloat. I swam for two hours, finally drifting near my friend, James Baker, from London, who shared a plank with me, on which he was floating. We were finally taken on board a damaged canvas lifeboat, which was in a sinking condition, but we managed to keep it afloat for another hour, when we were picked up by the trawler Indian Empire. It had eight other passengers on board, among them the woman to whom I gave my lifebelt.” .....
Although the passengers discussed submarines all the way over, few, if any, believed that the Lusitania would be struck. They referred to the possibility almost with levity. Mr. Timmis, ..... who talked with Captain Turner after landing, stated that the captain said bitterly: ‘We didn't have a chance; I knew that when I felt the torpedo's impact.’
Mr. Timmis added that the captain told the helmsman and staff captain on the bridge to save themselves, but Captain Turner remained at his post. The staff captain was lost, but the helmsman was saved.
The staff captain was James Clarke Anderson from Liverpool and the helmsman was Hugh Robert Johnston, who came from Litherland, in Lancashire.
Adolph and Mary Hoehling, in their book The Last Voyage of the Lusitania, also vividly describe Timmis’ experiences of the sinking, although they erroneously describe him as Timmins, throughout. They describe his experiences from the moment that the liner was struck, whilst he and Ralph Moodie were just finishing lunch, until just before she sank: -
Robert J. Timmins and his cabin mate Ralph Moodie, British cotton dealers who made their headquarters in Gainesville, Texas, were still eating heartily. They had worked up a sweat playing medicine ball, then cooled off with a round of drinks. Now, as the orchestra played the "Blue Danube", they were relaxed and content.
They laughed as they remembered the Greek sea captain who had strapped on his lifebelt the evening before, clambered into one of the gently swinging lifeboats, and slept there all night. No amount of persuasion could make the adamant Greek move. Timmins thought it was the funniest sight he had ever seen. He ordered a second dish of ice-cream.
"We've got time," he said, leaning back, wiping perspiration from his cheeks which the laughter had started anew. He was a big, heavy man.
The Greek sea captain was possibly Leonidas M. Bistis, one of only two Greek males known to have been on board. The other, Michael N. Pappadopoulo was a banker, travelling with his wife. Both Bistis and Pappadopoulo were subsequently killed. The Hoehling account continues: -
Moodie glanced at his wrist-watch and agreed there was plenty of time. . . after all, it was only a few minutes past two. .....
Robert Timmins, ..... never had his second dish of ice-cream. What he had heard sounded like a "penetrating thrust", as though the torpedo had pierced all the way through the ship and out the other side. He and Moodie, also from Texas, immediately pushed their chairs back and noticed the ship sharply listing even before they had cleared the First Class dining-saloon. Without feeling any particular sense of haste, they walked down to their cabin on the port side for lifebelts. The list was extremely acute as they groped inside the tumbled litter of their cabin.
The two went up to the starboard side of the boat deck, where they immediately helped two sailors lower a boat with about sixty persons in it. Close beside Timmins was George Kessler, the New York wine merchant who had brought 2,000,000 dollars in securities with him. Smoking a cigar, he helped to load the boats with women. He told Timmins he was doing so only "in a spirit of convention" as he did not believe the Lusitania would sink.
Then Timmins thought he saw, on the bridge at the forward end of the boat deck, the short, stocky figure of Captain Turner, with one hand raised, as a referee would his hand in an athletic contest to stop the play. Simultaneously a steward came from the bridge with orders to stop lowering. The Lusitania still had too much momentum and was plunging ahead out of control as the green water sloshed past her sides.
As if to punctuate the steward's words, there was a smacking crash against the water, quick screams, then silence. Timmins looked over to see a lifeboat dangling from one of its falls ... it had been lowered too hastily by one end and its occupants were spilled out before it had quite reached the water. Timmins watched with a strange, almost stolid objectivity as though this were something detached from his own existence.
Among those who had been in the boat were A. C. Bilicke, fifty-four-year-old builder and real estate man of Los Angeles, Mrs. Bilicke, and the Reverend David Loynd, British-born Baptist minister from Richmond, Indiana, and his wife, Alice. Timmins continued to stare at the half-smashed boat, the crushed bodies in the water, a few survivors swimming.
This was lifeboat No. 17, and nearly all of its occupants perished, including David and Alice Loynd and Albert Bilicke. Mrs. Bilicke; however, survived.
Then he saw people arriving, presumably from the steerage but in orderly fashion. He felt the ship lean "farther and lower" and knew the situation was becoming worse. A woman from Second Class pleaded with him for a lifebelt. He gave her his.
Next a mother from Third, with her baby and her emaciated husband who seemed to be suffering with tuberculosis, came over to Timmins, drawn to him as though the man's very bulk inspired confidence. He advised her to strap the baby in front of her, with its face to hers, then started to assist her. The sickly husband appeared frightened. "Do you think they will live, sir?" Timmins recalled his asking. "I think so," the cotton dealer answered, then added bluntly, "but you won't." .....
Nearby was Timmins, from Texas, surrounded by a group (steerage passengers, a number of whom seemed to be Russians). While Timmins could not recognize their gabbling, he was trying to reassure them. He held up a hand, nodded his head and repeated: "All right, all right!" They appeared to understand. One kissed his hand. He forgot what was happening to the ship in his momentary amazement having his hand kissed.
Timmins ... had heard the order to empty the boats, and the assurances the ship was "safe". He did not share the optimism, although he also noticed the Lusitania right herself. His friend Moodie, beside him, asked: "How about it, old man?" Timmins shook his head. He believed the liner was even then "gone". He figured the water had surged over her longitudinal bulkheads, which would indicate that ocean was pouring in at terrific rate. He decided against communicating his gloomy conclusions to the steerage passengers. .....
Timmins went so far under that he never saw the Lusitania's final moments of anguish. His last memories were of "Niagara Falls" as the superstructure bore him down with it. Soon the water around him was "black as the inside of a cow", and the top of his head felt like a "steel plate" from increasing pressure. Something struck the crown of his head. He figured he was at least sixty feet below the surface, which was certainly fifty feet deeper than he had ever dived before. But he remained as methodical as ever. He kept count as he swam up, fighting away from the superstructure, taking exactly thirty-one strokes before he surfaced.
Then, after "seconds which seemed like hours", the black changed to grey. Timmins blinked, looked around and figured he was about 150 yards east of the main log jam of wreckage. He was impressed by the calm - "no row, just a sort of hum over the water".
A boy of about ten floated past in the tangle of bodies and wreckage. There was no sound. He pressed his fingers to the boy's ribs, but could detect no heart beat. Then he raised his eyes from the still form and saw the smoke of a steamer trailing across the horizon, passing on a westerly course.
This steamer passed by without stopping and as we have already seen, Timmis was eventually picked up by the Royal Naval patrol boat H.M.S. Indian Empire and landed at Queenstown.
Amongst the maritime papers referring to Lusitania’s Carpenter Neil Robertson which have survived in the collection of The National Galleries and Museums on Merseyside in Liverpool, is a signed photograph of Timmis, dated and posted from London on 21st June 1915, in which Timmis had also written the following dedication: -
To Neil Robertson, Carpenter Lusitania who took me into a damaged collapsible Lusitania lifeboat about two hours after ship had been torpedoed May 7.1915. I being in the water without a life belt. He acted as a good seaman + a brave man.
Although none of the contemporary and later accounts of Timmis’ survival mention Robertson’s part, there can be no doubt that it was significant.
Ralph Troupe Moodie’s body was never found and identified, but Bedroom Steward Randall, who had looked after Robert Timmis in room A27, did survive the sinking and eventually made it back to his home in Gateacre. Saloon passengers James Baker and George A. Kessler also survived and eventually got back to their homes.
Robert Timmis eventually returned to his family in Gainesville.
When he died at his home in Gainesville on the 8th August 1939, aged 73years, it was stated that he had crossed the Atlantic Ocean on 69 occasions, and the Pacific Ocean on 6 occasions. He was buried in Fairview Cemetery, Gainesville.
Register of Births, Marriages and Deaths, Liverpool England Church of England Baptisms 1813 – 1919, Texas U.S. Select County Marriage Index 1837 – 1965, Texas U.S. Death Certificates 1903 – 1982, 1871 Census of England & Wales, 1910 U.S. Federal Census, 1920 U.S. Federal Census, 1930 U.S. Federal Census, New York Passenger Lists 1820 – 1957, California Passenger Lists 1882 – 1959, Honolulu Hawaii Passenger Lists 1900 – 1959, Cunard Records, Austin American, El Paso Herald, Marshall News Messenger, Last Voyage of the Lusitania, Tragedy of the Lusitania, PRO. 22/71, NGMM DX/1478, PRO BT 100/345, Graham Maddocks, Stuart Williamson, Geoff Whitfield, Michael Poirier, Jim Kalafus, Cliff Barry, Paul Latimer, Norman Gray.
Copyright © Peter Kelly.