britannic last voyage

HMHS Britannic

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HMHS Britannic ( / b r ɪ ˈ t æ n ɪ k / ) was the third and final vessel of the White Star Line 's Olympic class of steamships and the second White Star ship to bear the name Britannic . She was the youngest sister of the RMS   Olympic and the RMS   Titanic and was intended to enter service as a transatlantic passenger liner . She was operated as a hospital ship from 1915 until her sinking near the Greek island of Kea , in the Aegean Sea , in November 1916. At the time she was the largest hospital ship in the world. [ not verified in body ]

Britannic was launched just before the start of the First World War . She was designed to be the safest of the three ships with design changes made during construction due to lessons learned from the sinking of the Titanic . She was laid up at her builders, Harland and Wolff , in Belfast for many months before being requisitioned as a hospital ship . In 1915 and 1916 she served between the United Kingdom and the Dardanelles .

On the morning of 21 November 1916 she hit a naval mine of the Imperial German Navy near the Greek island of Kea and sank 55 minutes later, killing 30 people. There were 1,066 people on board; the 1,036 survivors were rescued from the water and lifeboats . Britannic was the largest ship lost in the First World War. [3]

After the First World War the White Star Line was compensated for the loss of Britannic by the award of SS   Bismarck as part of postwar reparations ; she entered service as RMS Majestic .

The wreck was located and explored by Jacques Cousteau in 1975. The vessel is the largest intact passenger ship on the seabed in the world. [4] It was bought in 1996 and is currently owned by Simon Mills, a maritime historian.

One Hundred Years Ago, the Titanic’s Sister Ship Exploded While Transporting Injured WWI Soldiers

Bad luck seemed to follow the White Star Line’s infamous steam liners

Danny Lewis

On April 14, 1912, ​in a perfect storm of engineering flaws, hubris and simple bad luck, the RMS Titanic descended into the depths of the North Atlantic Ocean roughly 400 miles south of Newfoundland, Canada. But while the Titanic has gone down in history, it wasn’t the only ship of its line to meet a watery end. In fact, 100 years ago today, its sister ship the HMHS Britannic also met its doom at sea.

As the sinking of the “unsinkable ship” made headlines, its owners at the White Circle Line already had its next Olympic-class counterpart in production. Originally called the Gigantic , its owners renamed the passenger liner with the slightly more humble name  Britannic  shortly after its predecessor sunk, according to  History.com .

In the wake of the inquiries into how its predecessor failed so spectacularly, the Britannic  underwent some big changes, including a thicker hull to protect against icebergs and the addition of enough lifeboats to accommodate everyone on board, according to History.com. However, it didn’t get much of a chance to redeem its sister ship as a passenger liner—shortly after the Britannic launched in 1914, the British government requisitioned it for use as a hospital ship in the early days of World War I.

As the largest of the British fleet, the Britannic wasn’t a bad place for soldiers to rest up and heal before heading back to the front lines. The ship’s ranking surgeon, a Dr. J.C.H. Beaumont, called it "the most wonderful hospital ship that ever sailed the seas," and with the capacity to carry and treat as many as 3,309 patients at once, British military officials figured the former passenger ship would be a great aid to the war effort, according to PBS .

On November 21, 1916, the  Britannic was heading through the Aegean Sea to pick up wounded soldiers. But at 8:12 am, its venture came to an end with a blast. The source of the explosion is still unknown, but many believe the ship struck a mine left by a German U-boat.

The blast caused more extensive damage to the ship than even the Titanic had experienced, PBS reports. Only this time, thanks to the improvements made in the wake of that tragedy and the preparedness of the crew, many more lives were saved.

“The explosion occurred when we were at breakfast. We heard something, but had no idea the ship had been hit or was going down,” the Britannic’s matron, E.A. Dowse, told The New York Times a few days after the disaster. "Without alarm we went on deck and awaited the launching of the boats. The whole staff behaved most splendidly, waiting calmly lined up on deck...The Germans, however, could not have chosen a better time for giving us an opportunity to save those aboard, for we had all risen. We were near land, and the sea was perfectly smooth.”

The evacuation, however, was not perfectly smooth, according to History.com. The ship's captain directed the boat towards the nearest land with the goal of running her aground. But as the ship charged ahead, the crew attempted to launch several lifeboats unbidden. The ship's spinning propellers quickly sucked them in, killing those aboard the rafts. Even so, over 1,000 passengers escaped with their lives and the 30 people who died in the sinking of the Britannic  stands in stark contrast to the more than 1,500 lives lost aboard the  Titanic . 

The disasters that befell the  Britannic , the Titanic , and the pair's older sister, the Olympic , all had something (or someone) in common, Emily Upton writes for  Today I Found Out — a woman named Violet Jessop. As a crew member and nurse, Jessop worked on all three ships, and miraculously escaped each one alive even though the incidents left two of the vessels nestled on the ocean floor. Having cheated death three times, Jessop eventually passed away in 1971 at the age of 84.

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Danny Lewis | | READ MORE

Danny Lewis is a multimedia journalist working in print, radio, and illustration. He focuses on stories with a health/science bent and has reported some of his favorite pieces from the prow of a canoe. Danny is based in Brooklyn, NY.

Two other Titanic ships were built and had tragic endings as well

You've probably heard of the Titanic , the most famous shipwreck in history. But did you know that the Titanic had two sister ships, the Britannic and the Olympic?

These three vessels were part of the White Star Line's Olympic-class liners, designed to be the largest, most luxurious and safest ships of their time.

Here, we'll explore the fascinating stories of the Britannic and the Olympic, how they differed from the Titanic, and what happened to them after their maiden voyages. 

What were the 'Olympic Class' ships?

The Olympic class ships were a trio of British ocean liners built by the Harland & Wolff shipyard for the White Star Line during the early 20th century.

They were Olympic (1911), Titanic (1912) and Britannic (1914).

All three were designed to be the largest and most luxurious passenger ships at that time, designed to give White Star an advantage in the transatlantic passenger trade.  

Titanic was the second and the most famous of the three sisters. She was launched in 1911 and entered service in 1912.

She was widely regarded as unsinkable, but she struck an iceberg and sank on her maiden voyage from Southampton to New York, killing more than 1,500 people. She remains one of the most tragic and iconic maritime disasters in history. 

But the two others, which are less famous, had far more enduring careers. 

RMS Olympic

The Olympic was launched on October 20, 1910, and made her maiden voyage on June 14, 1911, from Southampton to New York.

She was the largest ship in the world until her sister ship Titanic surpassed her in gross tonnage in 1912.

The Olympic had a successful career as a passenger ship, carrying celebrities, politicians, and wealthy travelers across the Atlantic.

She also served as a troopship during World War I , earning the nickname "Old Reliable" for her reliability and endurance. 

The Olympic survived several accidents and collisions during her service, including a collision with a British warship in 1911, a near-miss with an iceberg in 1912, and a ramming of a German submarine in 1918.

She underwent several refits and modernizations over the years, including the installation of oil-fired boilers, new propellers, and additional lifeboats.

She also adopted some of the features of her sister ship Britannic. 

The Olympic continued to operate as a passenger ship after World War I, but faced increasing competition from newer and faster liners, such as the Cunard Line's Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth.

She also suffered from the decline in demand for trans-Atlantic travel due to the Great Depression and the rise of air travel.

In 1934, the White Star Line merged with the Cunard Line, and the Olympic became part of the new Cunard-White Star Line.

She made her last voyage in March 1935, and was retired from service in April 1935.

She was sold for scrap later that year, and was dismantled in Jarrow, England, between 1935 and 1937. 

HMHS Britannic

The Britannic was the last of the three Olympic class ships and was designed to be a luxury liner for transatlantic passengers.

It was also modified to be safer than its sister ships after the Titanic sank in 1912.

Some of the changes included more lifeboats, higher watertight compartments, and a double hull. 

The Britannic never served as a commercial vessel, however, because it was completed after the outbreak of World War I in 1914.

The British government requisitioned the Britannic as a hospital ship, and it was renamed His Majesty's Hospital Ship (HMHS) Britannic.

The Britannic made five successful voyages to the Mediterranean, transporting wounded soldiers from various battlefields to England. 

On November 21, 1916, the Britannic was on its way to pick up more casualties from Greece when it hit a mine or a torpedo near the island of Kea.

The explosion damaged six of the watertight compartments and caused water to flood in through the open portholes.

The Britannic's captain, Charles Bartlett, tried to beach the ship on Kea, but it was too late.

The Britannic sank in less than an hour, taking 30 lives with it. More than 1,000 people were rescued by nearby ships. 

The Britannic remains the largest in-tact shipwreck in the world, lying at a depth of about 400 feet (120 meters) in the Aegean Sea.

It was discovered by Jacques Cousteau in 1975 and has been explored by several expeditions since then.

The Britannic is considered a historical and archaeological treasure, as well as a memorial to those who died on board. 

Differences between the Olympic, Titanic, and Britannic

The main differences between the three Olympic class ships were their size, design, and service.

Britannic was slightly larger than her sisters, with a gross tonnage of 48,158 tons, compared to 46,328 tons for Titanic and 45,324 tons for Olympic.

She also had a more powerful turbine engine and a larger rudder for better maneuverability.

Titanic had some minor design improvements over Olympic, such as an enclosed promenade deck on A-deck and more lifeboats.

Olympic had some modifications after Titanic's sinking, such as a double hull and additional lifeboats.

All three ships had different careers, with Olympic being the only one that served as a civilian liner for most of her life, Titanic being the only one that sank on her maiden voyage, and Britannic being the only one that served as a hospital ship. 

Remembering the sister ships

So, while the Olympic and Britannic may not have had the same tragic end as their sister ship, the Titanic, they still had impressive and unique stories of their own.

These two vessels were symbols of luxury and innovation during their time and continued to leave a lasting legacy even after they were retired from service.

The Olympic and Britannic may not be household names like the Titanic, but they are still worth remembering and exploring for their contributions to maritime history. 

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Britannic (III)

On 6th August 1929 Harland and Wolff launched a new ship for White Star Line, MV Britannic (III). Britannic, although a small ship at just 26,943 tons, was to be a very modern and successful ship. Britannic was not powered by steam but by diesel powered motor engines.

Britannic and her younger sister Georgic were the last two ships ever built for the White Star Line.

Britannic's maiden voyage began on 28th June 1930 from her home port, Liverpool. From Liverpool she stopped at Glasgow and Belfast before heading to New York. Britannic's passengers had the choice of cabin, tourist or third class accommodation.

After Cunard and White Star merged in May 1934, to form Cunard White Star, like all Cunard and White Star ships, Britannic flew both the Cunard and White Star flag, with the White Star flag on top in Britannic’s case.

In April 1935 Britannic was moved to the London to New York service.

By the end of 1936 all of the White Star Line’s ships had been sold except for Britannic, her sister ship Georgic, and Laurentic; although, Laurentic was mostly laid up until the Second World War.

In August 1939 she become a troop transport, serving until 1947; by the end of the war she had transported over 180,000 troops and had gone 376,000 miles.

After she was returned to Cunard White Star in March 1947, she was given a refit at Liverpool before being returned to service.

At the very end of 1949 – with the last White Star shares by now having been bought by Cunard – Cunard Line completely took over the remainder of the White Star Line and the name White Star disappeared. Despite this, Britannic did remain in White Star colours and flew the White Star flag underneath Cunard’s.

When leaving New York on 1st June 1950, in heavy fog, Britannic collided head on with a cargo ship, Pioneer land. Pioneer land with a damaged bow returned to land, while Britannic, although with damage to her bow, was able to safely continue on her voyage.

After Georgic made her last voyage for Cunard, in October 1954, Britannic become the last ship to service as a ‘White Star’ ship.

In April 1955, while on her way home to Liverpool from New York, 4 cars, 550 bags of mail and a lot of passenger's luggage was destroyed after a fire broke out in a cargo hold and burnt for around 6 hours and smouldered for days. When Britannic returned, her Captain, GH Morris, said that he did not know how the fire started.

In May 1960 Britannic arrived in New York with a cracked crank shaft in need of being repaired, resulting in her not leaving New York again until 7th July. By then, Britannic was getting to be an old ship and it was not long before Cunard decided it was time for her to retire.

On 11th November 1960 Britannic left Liverpool for New York on her and White Star’s last passenger voyage. Britannic left New York for the last time on 25th of November 1960, escorted by a fireboat and given a good farewell send-off.

After returning to Liverpool on her 275th and last voyage, Britannic was sold for scrap. On 16th December 1960 she left Liverpool for the last time, to go to Inverkeithing, Scotland, UK to be broken up. She arrived at Inverkeithing on 19th December. Britannic, the last ship serving as a White Star Line ship was then broken up.

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Exploring the Britannic: The life, last voyage and wreck of Titanic's tragic twin

Simon mills.

272 pages, Hardcover

Published March 12, 2019

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Established 1963

To Hell and Back, The Maiden Voyage of Britannic

Simon Mills, a long time friend and member of the Titanic Historical Society has written a special chapter for his latest book “To Hell And Back, The Maiden Voyage of Britannic” exclusively for The Titanic Commutator. We will be offering you a taste of the article here and the complete article will appear in the February/May 2003 issue of The Titanic Commutator.

Her first voyage was a far cry from that originally planned for the ship.

Early on the frosty morning of Tuesday 22nd December 1915, a taxi from the London & NorthWestern Railway Hotel pulled up alongside Liverpool’s Gladstone Dock carrying a passenger who, although by no means a novice, had every reason to be particularly excited.

 At thirty-nine years of age Dr. Harold Goodman was already more than familiar with life’s trials. After leaving school at the age of seventeen, and started his medical training at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital in London and after qualifying in 1899 he moved to Beckett’s Hospital in Barnsley. Shortly afterwards he took a locum at Hemsworth, where he would eventually take over the medical practice, and throughout this time he would use the Warde Adlam Cottage Hospital, adjacent to the Frickley Colliery, to operate on his surgical cases.

His experience of this hardened industrial background was now about to pay dividends, for Dr. Goodman’s latest assignment was to His Majesty’s Hospital Ship Britannic, the largest, if not quite the most luxurious hospital ship in the world.

In fact, both doctor and vessel were new to the military lifestyle. After lying dormant for the first fifteen months of the war, the value of the incomplete leviathan lying at Belfast could no longer be overlooked by the Military Transport Division. Britannic was finally requisitioned for service on 13th November, and throughout the ensuing four weeks the workforce at Harland and Wolff, Belfast, had worked around the clock to transform the hollow shell into the finest hospital ship afloat. By the time Britannic was ready to depart on her trials on 8th December the cavernous interiors had been fitted out with over 3,300 cots, mostly of the permanent two decker type, although there were also the slightly more comfortable camp beds for the more fortunate. The neglected hull paintwork had also undergone a total transformation from a shabby grey to the internationally recognized colours of a hospital ship a glistening white hull, with a green band running from stem to sternpost, broken by three large red crosses. As a finishing touch, the ship’s four giant funnels were painted yellow, thus helping to ensure that the enemy would have no difficulty in identifying Britannic as a hospital ship.

After an overnight crossing from Belfast, Britannic, under the command of Captain Joseph Ranson, finally arrived at Liverpool’s Gladstone Dock early on the morning of 12th December to complete the fitting out and to take on the medical staff and supplies, being officially commissioned as a hospital ship that same day. Two days later Captain Charles Bartlett arrived from Scotland to assume command and with his arrival the command structure was all but complete.

Dr. Goodman’s call to the colours was even more recent, having only been appointed as a lieutenant in the Royal Army Medical Corps (RAMC) on 14th December. The ensuing week and after spending the last in England at the NorthWestern Hotel was, at last, ready to “do his bit.”

Unfortunately, it seemed that everybody would have to wait a little bit longer. At 11.00 a.m. Britannic pulled out into the Mersey, only to promptly drop anchor and remain strangely immobile. For all the effort to get the ship ready, two hundred RAMC orderlies had still not arrived from Aldershot and were not liable to be onboard for another twelve hours. To pass the time, after settling into cabin 51, a two-berth stateroom that he was to share with Lieutenant Anderson, Goodman spent the rest of the day going over the ship. In that Britannic was a vessel of such a colossal size it was to be time well spent, because the missing orderlies would not finally arrive on board until midnight, but twenty minutes later the order was given to raise the anchor as the fully illuminated Britannic finally headed westward into the Irish Sea.

The devil makes work for idle hands, and on board Britannic it was to be no exception. Throughout the day rumours were rife as to where the ship was actually headed. For some curious reason Australia seemed to be the leading contender, but Goodman wasn’t convinced. The monotony was briefly interrupted by the morning parade at 10.30, after which Lieutenant Colonel Henry Stewart Anderson, the Senior Medical Officer, made his daily round of the ship, and by the time it was over, Goodman and four others had been allocated the 426 beds of F, L, M, N and V wards, located in the starboard forward part of the ship on F and G decks. The fact that they were so low in the ship, however, also brought its problems, as two of the wards were already under water from a leaking porthole and the back pressure from a faulty valve in ship’s tank, which was allowing water to pump back through the sink.

To further add to the problems, practically everyone on board was feeling the effects of a strong squally half gale from the southwest so it was just as well that few on board had very much to do. The following morning proved no different, with the conditions being so rough that breakfast was very thinly attended. The midday lecture by Professor Squires and Dr. Risk on the virtues of urea as antiseptic proved beneficial, but, more importantly, Colonel Anderson’s comment that the medical staff would only have six days only to treat the wounded once they were on board provided the first positive hint that Britannic was actually bound for the Mediterranean. At midday the daily run of 426 miles was published and when it was learnt that the ship had passed Cape Finisterre it was clear that they were headed for Gibraltar.

That night the ship continued to roll so badly that one of the tables in Goodman’s cabin even overturned. Christmas morning was equally squally, but following the 11.00 a.m. Church of England service in the saloon, which had been decorated with holly and mistletoe for the occasion, Colonel Anderson took the opportunity to advise his assembled staff of their embarkation duties. For Dr. Goodman and his colleagues in F, L, M, N, and V wards it would be a relatively straightforward matter as they were well served by the forward lifts.

And so the voyage continued. The daily run to midday on 25th December amounted to another 443 miles and there was at least a little excitement when three small tramp steamers hove into view as the ship was passing Cape St. Vincent, as they were the first vessels that had been sighted in days. Early the next morning, Britannic, illuminated by huge searchlights from the shore, slipped quietly through the Strait of Gibraltar and entered the Mediterranean. Taking advantage of the calmer sea conditions, at 11.30 a.m. Captain Bartlett called all hands to boat stations and just after lunch the latest daily run was published, confirming that in the last twenty four hours Britannic had clocked up another 455 miles. The engines were working themselves up nicely. The next day was not so encouraging, covering only 416 miles, but during the afternoon Britannic skirted the southern coast of Sardinia and that evening the first official ship’s concert was held in the R.A.M.C. mess.

The morning of 28th December was a hazy one, but by 8.30 a.m. Goodman was already up on deck gazing at the distant island of Capri just as Britannic was entering the Bay of Naples. He could clearly see the ruins of Tiberius’ palace and the 700 ft. into sea where the Roman emperor had had the playful habit of dropping his victims to feed the lobsters. The views of Vesuvius from the harbour were no less awesome, which was just as well because very few were being allowed ashore. Instead all they could do was watch the activities of the coaling lighters that were lying alongside all day.

The following day was set to be equally dull, but after lecturing the orderlies and overseeing the wards, which were getting straighter by the hour, Doctors Goodman, Urwick, Anderson and Bachelor were given passes to go shore in the motor launch. After landing at the Arsenal step at 10.30 a.m. they walked through park to the Aquarium, thence to Cooks to change their money (owing to prohibition of export of bullion the exchange rate came as a rather unpleasant surprise), but a stroll to the Bertholmi lift and lunch at the hotel at the top were worth the sacrifice. Unfortunately it could not last forever; their orders were to be back on board at 2 p.m. because two hours later Britannic was once again outward bound.

For the early risers the next twenty-four hours would be memorable. By 5.00 a.m. the glowing volcanic island of Stromboli could be clearly seen on the starboard horizon and two hours later the snow-capped Mount Etna was in sight. Britannic finally entered the Straits of Messina at 8.00 a.m. where the ruins of the 1908 earthquake could still clearly be seen, and for Colonel Anderson this had to be one of the most poignant moments of the voyage because in January 1909 it had been he who instigated the British earthquake relief party while serving on Malta. As Scylla and Charybdis drew astern it was back to business as usual. 9.00 a.m. brought with it another embarkation drill which was to keep everyone busy in the wards until lunch, but already it was clear that the tempo on board had noticeably changed. Mudros was now barely thirty hours away and with the Eastern Mediterranean crawling with enemy U-boats the sudden increase in speed was quite obvious, so to take their minds off the looming peril that evening the medical staff were treated to an informal lecture in the lounge by Professor Squires on Virgil’s Aeneid.

The following morning, and with Mudros now only hours away, the orderlies were finally allocated to their duty watches, while Colonel Anderson and Captain Bartlett made their final two-hour tour of the wards to ensure that everything was in place. Four hours later Britannic was finally passing through the defensive nets which guarded the Bay of Mudros and the enormous quantity shipping of all descriptions in the harbour. The ship anchored inside the boom in 13 fathoms of water, with the hospital ships, Dunluce Castle, Grantully Castle, Egypt, Gloucester Castle and Assegai already lying nearby.

To Dr. Goodman the whole aspect of Lemnos appeared to be very hilly and utterly barren, with the shore and slopes covered with tents and encampments. It was actually quite bleak, but in truth there was little time to appreciate the surroundings anyway because at 7.00 p.m., without any apparent warning, the P&O hospital ships Assegai and Egypt arrived alongside and immediately began to discharge their patients. For the first time Goodman began to appreciate just how large the White Star liner really was, as the funnels of the other two ships, which seemed like lighters alongside, only came up to Britannic’s boat deck. To get around the problem the wounded came aboard onto D deck by gangways from the other vessel’s upper decks, which were about level, but it was hard going nevertheless. For Dr. Goodman there would be no dinner until 11.00 p.m., by which time the 94 beds of V ward were full, ten stretcher cases had been taken to F ward and several others were allocated to L and M. There was, however, one fly in the ointment; the unscheduled evening transfer had taken everyone completely by surprise and with Colonel Anderson and Captain Bartlett both on shore the arrangements were probably not in accordance with their ideas.

But that was a matter for tomorrow. With all the patients given either chicken broth or cocoa before bed, by 11.00 p.m. the work was done, and just in time too, because at midnight Mudros exploded in a cacophony of sound as the hundreds of vessels sounded their sirens and eight bells, and continued to ring them as they saw in 1916. By the time he was ready for bed some two hours later, the war had been forgotten for a few hours at least, but Goodman’s hope that the New Year might end differently was doubtless a wish shared by everyone in the world.

New Year’s Day, however, was to prove no different from the last. Throughout the morning the patients continued to come aboard from the Egypt and Assegai, with Britannic a hive of activity throughout the day. The following day found the Asturias and Killman Castle alongside, with the first evacuated wounded from the shore, numbering approximately 1000, also being towed out on barges by a paddle tug. At 5.30 p.m. the hospital ship Aberdmain tied up along the portside and later that evening another barge arrived alongside carrying another batch of evacuated wounded officers from the shore.

As the transfer of invalids went on, the experiences of those who came on board proved varied. For Private R.E. Atkinson of the 29th Divisional Cyclist Company, who had arrived from Cairo on board the Dunluce Castle after being evacuated from Suvla Bay (Gallipoli), having contracted pleurisy several months earlier.

Like Dr. Goodman, Atkinson was amazed by the sheer size of Britannic. He finally got aboard at 10.00 a.m. on 1st January, but although he had departed from Dunluce Castle’s well deck, he still had to go up five flights of stairs before emerging at the level of Britannic’s boat deck. He was equally struck by the enormous width of the ship and the immense dining saloon like the Crystal Palace, with the ship’s stewards looking just as white and sickly as on the other boats. Looking down the Dunluce Castle appeared no bigger than a trawler, and the S.S. Egypt on the other side looked equally small, while Britannic¹s on board facilities, such as telephones, lifts, and swimming baths made the vessel seem more like a small town. Within four hours Atkinson had been placed in H ward, had been “marked up” by his allocated doctor, issued with his hospital suit and given a good dinner. As a result, all seemed well with the world or was it?

As the patients continued to come aboard the following day, Atkinson’s first impressions had been cruelly shattered, an he was rapidly beginning to change his mind, as he recorded in his truncated diary:

“Grub is rotten, starvation, two slices for breakfast, dinner, stew in a basin, thought it was soup first course, but nothing else came up. Patients get nearly frozen waiting to get on from trawlers, some stretcher cases get douched with water from ship’s side. Cocoa and hard biscuit for supper. Church in evening, gilt edge prayer books W.S.L. Cocoa and biscuits for supper.”

by Simon Mills

Continued in Titanic Commutator No 160 Feb-April 2003

A complete biography of Britannic, including her war service, is presented in the book “Hostage to Fortune” available now in the Museum Shop.

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Exploring the Britannic: The life, last voyage and wreck of Titanic's tragic twin

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Introduction 6

Part 1 The Britannic and The Great War

1 Genesis 10

2 Back to The Drawing Board 20

3 The Call to Arms 30

4 The Maiden Voyage 42

5 To Hell and Back 54

6 Back in The Routine 64

7 Journey's End 74

8 Aftermath 92

9 The End of The Beginning 100

Part 2 Exploring The Britannic

10 Rediscovery 116

11 In The Footsteps of Cousteau 128

12 The Impossible Dream 148

13 Politics, Producers and Partners 166

14 The Project Widens 190

15 A Sequence of Unfortunate Events 208

16 Picking Up The Pieces 226

Appendix: The Wreck of The Britannic today 240

Bibliography and Sources 268

Acknowledgements 272

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