Real Survival Stories - Trapped Under the Sunken Titanic

Episode Date: February 20, 2025

Dik Barton has an amazing job. His 9 to 5 is spent recovering artefacts from the world’s most iconic shipwreck. In August 1994, Dik leads a dive to the bottom of the Atlantic - to explore an uncharted section of RMS Titanic. The mission is going off without a hitch, until their sub is knocked off course by a freak ocean current. Trapped within the wreckage, with dwindling oxygen supplies, Dik must think fast. Otherwise he too will suffer a tragic fate, 82 years after Titanic met hers… A Noiser production, written by Joe Viner. If you enjoy this episode and want to learn more about the Titanic, then we have just the podcast for you. Titanic: Ship of Dreams. Coming soon from the Noiser Podcast Network. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

TD Direct Investing offers live support. So whether you're a newbie or a seasoned pro, you can make your investing steps count. And if you're like me and think a TFSA stands for total fund savings adventure, maybe reach out to TD Direct Investing. It's August 1994, about 350 miles of the east coast of Canada.

Down in the control room of a state-of-the-art research vessel, an emergency light flashes code red. Worried-looking crewmen huddle around sonar screens, their eyes scanning the glowing green monitors for a tiny blue dot. Up on deck, rescue divers in thick rubber scuba suits anxiously await further instruction. Beyond the ship's guardrails, the surface of the North Atlantic Ocean is a forbidding iron gray, a mirror of the overcast sky. But the crew aren't worried about conditions on the surface. Their thoughts are fixed firmly on what

is happening deep beneath it. Early this morning, a small three-man submersible was launched from this vessel before descending 12,500 feet to conduct a research mission on the seabed. Everything was going to plan, until about five hours into the dive when the sub suddenly disappeared from the sonar screens and radio communication with the men on board was lost. Now panic is rising on the surface.

The men down there can't have more than 10 hours of breathable oxygen left. Even if they're still alive, they will soon be on borrowed time. Meanwhile, more than two miles down in the pitch black of the deep sea, Dick Barton wipes a bead of sweat from his brow. He and his two colleagues are in a serious bind, the weight of a billion tons of water bearing down on the titanium walls of their eight-meter-long submersible. It was tense. It was more than tense.

It was terrifying. We were thinking, what can we do now? Dick sinks to his knees and peers out through the submersible's single porthole. Sand and silt swirl in the eerie, green can make out a vast rusting heap of girders, rivets and steel plates looming above them. Dick's eyes widen. He has visited this shipwreck before, many times. But he can't recall ever seeing the remains of RMS Titanic this close up. The fact that they're seeing it now,

barely a few feet from the window of the sub, is further evidence that something has gone terribly, dreadfully wrong. You have a different mindset, a psyche, where you're going to think, right, this isn't our survival. We now have to make sure that we are in charge of our destiny here. There's nobody out there going to help us. Whatever we did, we were on our own. Ever wondered what you would do when disaster strikes? If your life depended on your next decision, could you make the right choice?

Welcome to Real Survival Stories. These are the astonishing tales of ordinary people thrown into extraordinary situations. People suddenly forced to fight for their lives. In this episode we meet Dick Barton. The 34-year-old Brit is the Director of Operations for RMS Titanic Incorporated, a private company licensed to recover artifacts from the wreck of the iconic ship. One August day in 1994, Dick is leading a research and recovery dive down to a relatively unexplored section of the sunken Titanic, the stern.

The mission is going off without a hitch, and then they feel it. There was an incredible, unprecedented surge, a current, a strand of god, I can't really call it, but something just pushed us and we then felt a shudder and clear crunch. Ensnared within the wreckage, the submersible and her three crew members find themselves trapped on the ocean floor with the immense pressure of the Atlantic Ocean bearing down upon them. You're in 2 and 1 half thousand pounds per square inch of pressure. We're in the equivalent ambient pressure of two adult elephants

balancing on your thumbnail. With dwindling oxygen supplies and zero contact with the surface, Dick and his colleagues must find a solution to their problem fast, or they too will suffer a tragic fate 82 years after the Titanic met hers. I'm John Hopkins from the Noiser Network. This is real survival stories. August 1994, 350 miles southeast of Newfoundland, Canada. A French-built research vessel, Nadir, plows the bluish gray surf of the North Atlantic. Above her rust-stained hull, the ship's twin navigation beacons emit an ethereal white light. Two hazy orbs glowing dimly in the sea fog.

Conditions are calm this early morning, the rising sun gradually burning away the mist. Depending on the time of year, it's not uncommon to see icebergs adrift in this remote stretch of ocean, carved from arctic glaciers and transported south by the currents. But it's late summer, and the bergs have long melted. On board the research vessel, Dick Barton walks purposefully along the metal gangway that runs from the middle of the ship to the rear. He glances at the ocean, gently undulating beyond the porthole. A shiver of excitement passes through him. In less than an hour's time, he'll be out there, below

the surface, heading more than two miles down. I've always had a passion for the sea and being at sea and particularly in the sea and the water and the fascination as a schoolboy. I grew up with Jacques Cousteau on a Sunday afternoon. I'd sit down with him, see him in sandwiches with his family and watch his incredible adventures. And so that fascination of diving was really born from there. Though he's only 34, Dick has already lived several lives. After leaving school, he got his qualifications

to become a commercial saturation diver. But when automation makes it harder to find work in the oil and gas industry, Dick shifted gears. He enlisted as a soldier in the Parachute Regiment, specializing in maritime security, and eventually rose to the rank of captain, stationed in the Far East. Then a couple of years ago, Dick decided it was time for another change. Having just finished an illustrious, engaging, and very challenging, exciting

military career for some 14 odd years, traveling the world and doing all these things, I think the next chapter was the most exciting for me. What now? Because I'm 32 now, what do I need to do? What do I want to do? I don't want to get a real job, so I was just so floundering a bit as to what happened and lo and behold, chance for a lifetime knocked on my door. One day, a friend came to Dick with a proposition. He knew a pair of American investors who were trying to acquire salvage rights to the wreck of a sunken ship.

And not just any ship. Since its discovery in 1985, the wreck of RMS Titanic has been the subject of a drawn out legal battle as various organizations vied for the rights to dive down and recover artifacts from the storied shipwreck. A few years ago, an American consortium established RMS Titanic Inc. Since then, the company has been fending off competitors to claim exclusive salvage rights. They were in pole position, but they needed a director of operations, somebody qualified to coordinate exploratory dives down to the wreck.

Dick Barton, it seemed, was exactly the sort of person they were after. Dick's friend told him that the investors were in Hong Kong and keen to meet him. He agreed without hesitation. So we had dinner that night and we had a chat and they popped the question, would you like to come on board as the director of operations for RMS Titanic incorporated. So I gave him a fleeting look and said there let me check my diary and said of course how about I not an opportunity of a lifetime. This episode is sponsored by Indeed.

Imagine you're a business owner who's just realized you needed to hire someone yesterday. That's where Indeed can help. Indeed's sponsored jobs help you stand out and hire great talent fast. Your post will jump to the top of the page for candidates who are relevant to you so that you can reach the people you want faster. And it really makes a difference. for the page for candidates who are relevant to you, so that you can reach the people you want faster. And it really makes a difference, according to Indeed data worldwide. Sponsored jobs posted directly on Indeed have 45% more applications than

non-sponsored jobs. One thing that really stands out to me is how fast you get results. In the minute that I've been talking to you, 23 hires were made on Indeed. That's according to Indeed data worldwide. Even better, Indeed sponsored jobs needs no commitment. There are no monthly subscriptions, no long term contracts, you only pay for results. There's no need to wait any longer.

Speed up your hiring right now with Indeed. Listeners of this show will get a $100 sponsored job credit to get your jobs more visibility at indeed.com forward slash real survival. Just go to indeed.com forward slash real survival right now and support our show by saying you heard about indeed on this podcast. Indeed.com forward slash real survival. Terms and conditions apply. Hiring indeed is all you need. This is an ad from BetterHelp Online Therapy. We always hear about the red flags to avoid in relationships, but it's just as important to focus on the green flags.

If you're not quite sure what they look like, therapy can help you identify those qualities so you can embody the green flag energy and find it in others. BetterHelp offers therapy 100% online and sign up only takes a few minutes. Visit BetterHelp.com today to get 10% off your first month. That's BetterHelp, H-E-L-P dot com. Now it's two years later. RMS Titanic Inc has won its legal battles and is now the sole entity permitted to dive the shipwreck. In his new role, Dick has already dived the Titanic several times,

the first British person ever to do so. He coordinates a team of oceanographers, historians and deep sea explorers, all dedicated to the research of the wreck and the recovery of precious artifacts. There are some who frown upon the activities of Titanic Inc. Their disapproval stemming from a belief that the wreck is sacred and that they should let sleeping ships lie. Diving the Titanic was quite emotive, quite evocative. People didn't really want us to do it.

There were views from every single corner of the world who said, you know, leave it alone, don't do it. For the most part, the opposition was not to dive the wreck, certainly not to recover artifacts from the wreck, because it was a violation of perception of either a graveyard or just general sort of not acceptable conduct. Needless to say, Dick and his colleagues don't see it that way. To them, recovering artifacts and displaying them to the public is a way of preserving the memory of what happened on that fateful night in April 1912.

They just need to be careful that history doesn't repeat itself. Dick emerges onto the deck of the Nadir, where dozens of crew members are busily preparing for this morning's dive. It should be a relatively routine reconnaissance exercise. Dick and his two colleagues will descend in Nautil, an 8-meter-long submersible capable of reaching depths of nearly 4 miles. When they arrive on the seabed, they will navigate to the stern section of Titanic and take a look around. Up until this stage, the stern section hadn't been particularly well researched or recorded

because it's such a tangled mess, but also extremely dangerous. The decks were very, very badly compressed, compacted, and there's a number of quite treacherous eddy and currents which live around that area, which circulate around the wreck side of the stern. When the Titanic sank, it broke into two sections, the bow and the stern. The bow plunged to the seabed first. 27 minutes later, the rear section of the ship dropped vertically through the frigid depths and came to rest about 600 meters away from the bow. Due to the speed at which the stern sank, the air pockets trapped inside had no time to escape.

As the pressure built, these air pockets began to implode, tearing apart the hull and littering the ocean floor with debris. To explore the jagged heap of steel, Dick and his colleagues will deploy a remotely operated vehicle, an ROV nicknamed Robin. Small and nimble, Robin is just 60cm across and comes equipped with a colour video camera. So, the idea of that particular dive was to take Robin down and fly her inside between the decks as best we could to try and see what was evident, what was she like, was it worth pursuing, was there anything worth looking at or recording or even possibly planning to recover around that area. Dick walks to the back of the deck, where Norteel is being prepared for her descent. The submersible is strapped into a cradle suspended between two metal arms. Having completed their checks and briefings, Dick climbs inside the tight, pressurized

submarine just three meters in diameter. Joining Dick on this descent is George Tullock, chairman of RMS Titanic Inc. George was a BMW car salesman based in Connecticut, absolute passion for Titanic, and was a very instrumental part of actually making the company work, commercially. But beyond that, he had no maritime real experience or background or expertise. Alongside George and Dick is the most experienced member of the three-man crew, the French deep sea explorer P.H. Nadjole. The real star of the show of course was P.H.

Nadjole. He died in the war, an extraordinary experienced mariner, ex-French Navy, Compagnageur. He knew the wreck extremely well. He knew the hazards, but also he was a very beyond competent submersible pilot and a pleasure to work with and a great mentor for me. It's around 8 a.m. Norteel's entrance hatch is sealed shut. Dick glances at the glowing dashboard, the sonar screens, valves and pressure gauges.

The Titanic wreck is located 12,500 feet beneath the ocean's surface. The submersibles' titanium walls have been built to withstand the crushing forces of the deep sea and to allow the sub's interior to be maintained at close to normal atmospheric pressure. We knew that whatever we got into, that particular submersible had been extremely well documented, maintained and was fit for purpose. And then every day the engineers on board would check her, check the levels, the hydraulics, the battery power systems. We strongly planned for any kind of mitigation from the crew getting in, every opportunity exists where we can abort if we want to.

The cradle mechanism begins lowering the submersible towards the rolling waves. Dick watches as the agitated surf foams around the porthole, gradually clearing to reveal a murky blue expanse. The masked faces of the rescue divers loom up to the reinforced plexiglass, flashing thumbs up as they perform the final checks. They swim around, all around her underside, looking at the vessel, the integrity, looking for anything that looks

wrong, any anomaly that looks not correct. And again, another take in the box, are we okay, is everything good, yes we're okay, we've spoken to Nadia, she's okay with us, we're okay with her. Disconnect, let's go free, and then we are free to descend. With the tow lines disconnected, the submersible drops down into the glu. To descend in a controlled fashion, the Norteel is fitted with ballast tanks. By letting water into these tanks, the crew offsets the positive buoyancy of the sub and slowly guides her down. In 1912, when the stern and bow sections of Titanic slid beneath the icy surface, it took

them less than 10 minutes to hit the bottom. If all goes to plan, Dick's descent should take a leisurely two hours. He busies himself with maintenance around the sub. This is his seventh time visiting the wreck site. But even so, the thrill of descending into this strange aquatic world never gets old. As we descend, you go through that extraordinary light transformation, translucency, down to absolute pitch black and very quickly. Sometimes we turn the lights on, we look outside, and you're surrounded by the most extraordinary array of small life forms and iridescent fish and plankton.

It's just beyond comprehension. As the Norteel descends, the temperature plummets. Droplets of condensation form on the ceiling and walls. But everything is going to plan. They're in constant radio comms with the mothership overhead. We were descending very nicely for the two and a bit hours down to the seabed. Everything was good, communication was good, the visibility was excellent, and we actually landed, or came to this proximity to exactly where it wants to be.

They've reached the seabed. They take pressure readings, then double-check oxygen supplies and battery power. All rosy. There's only one reading that's given them any cause for concern. We noticed that there was a particularly strong eddy and some strong currents at that time, which are particular to that area and around that stern section, and we have to make sure that we were obviously not going to damage either ourselves and also the wreck. Known as Western boundary currents, these are strong, deep and narrow flows that run

along the western edges of the world's major ocean basins. At this stage there's something to keep an eye on, that's all. Certainly no cause for alarm. Once they've assessed the distance to Titanic's stern section, PH engages the submersible thrusters. The Norteel glides forward, headlamps slicing through the inky black darkness. The dive is going well and we're in good form. Checks were going in, we're talking to the Nadea on a regular basis. O2 levels were good, battery levels were good, and there's nothing to give us any concern. As the Norteel beetles through the murky depths, Dick glances out of the porthole. Spectral

objects flip by, briefly illuminated in the greenish glow of the headlamps, a snapped piece of propeller, a length of twisted pipe, a toppled funnel half embedded in the sand. Much of the Titanic wreck site has already been thoroughly mapped and cataloged, allowing pH to navigate through the debris field without a collision. There are other very precise parts of the wreck site which have, for example, coal deposits or over here is first class tableware from the particularly beautiful restaurants of around the Capri Prison Cafe. Over here, there's also a concentration of first class luggage, second class luggage,

because of course that's how they were stored in the vessel and that's how they were ejected as she then broke up, stopping midships. Looking through the porthole, it's easy to see why some regard this wreck site as a graveyard. Objects loom from the darkness, like tombstones overgrown with algae, ghostly monuments to the ill-fated voyage. A respectful silence descends over the men in the sub as they press on. And then of course we come around to the stern section, which is their twisted metal pile

of tragedy. The decks have compacted and compressed significantly. The huge triple reciprocating engines, which initially would have been sat on the tank deck of the actual vessel, have now penetrated and pushed up so they protrude, almost sphinx-like, up out through the stern section of the wreck. Huge stalactites of rust cling to the beam's instantions, bacterial formations known as rusticles. Jagged edges and sharp spears of torn metal protrude from the wreckage.

As they get closer to the stern, pH has to proceed with heightened caution. Even the smallest brush with one of those steel walls could damage the submersible and spell disaster for those on board. The principal focus at all times is the integrity of the submersible. And it's not just the, God forbid, if the integrity of the actual sphere was compromised and punctured because of those depths. The rate of implosion was milliseconds and you'd know nothing about it. I think the worst fear would be that the submersible, for whatever reason, was incapacitated.

We couldn't propel, we couldn't navigate, we couldn't use the thrusters. So we're probably about three, maybe four hours into the dive with, we've got a good idea of what we want to do and the decision was made. Let's try and get the Robin launched and put it into the lower decks and see what we can see. When they get within several meters of the wreck, PH brings the vessel to a standstill. They're just about to start preparing Robin. When suddenly... There was an incredible, unprecedented surge, a current.

A sound of God, I don't know what you want to call it. But something just pushed us from the back left and we then felt a shudder and a clear crunch where we had hit some part of the stern section overhanging decks. Dick staggers forward with the force of the impact, the clash of metal on metal reverberating through the walls of the sub. He straightens up and looks around, heart pounding.

What on earth was that? But in the sub's red light, PH and George look just as shocked and bewildered as he does. Through the forward-facing porthole, all they can see is a cloud of swirling silt and rust. The submersible has been shoved underneath the overhanging remains of the deck and has collided with a steel wreckage.

There's a collective intake of breath as the three men wait to see if the integrity of the sub has been compromised. If it has, they could have just milliseconds to live. It's early afternoon, 350 miles off the coast of Newfoundland. Two thousand fathoms beneath the surface of the Atlantic Ocean. Three men sit in fraud silence. Their submersible nautil have just been caught by a rogue current and swept beneath the Titanic's stern. Right away, Dick notices something troubling about the lack of movement on board the sub.

Normally you have a sensation where you're slightly rocking, you're slightly floating, of movement on board the sub. Right. What has happened? What do we need to do to get out of this? And let's make a plan. The submersible appears to be stuck, wedged between the silty ocean floor and an overhanging section of the wreck. Dick looks at the control panel, his gaze darting between gauges and meters. the control panel, his gaze darting between gauges and meters. The fact that they're still breathing tells him the impact hasn't damaged the exterior walls of the sub. If it had, it would have been crushed like a coke can. You're in two and a half thousand pounds per square inch of pressure. We're in the equivalent of ambient pressure of two adult elephants balancing on your thumbnail.

Thankfully, the dials on the control panel show that the internal pressure is stable. The worst-case scenario of sudden implosion hasn't come to pass. But the threat of a slow death remains. Dick takes another reading. Their oxygen supplies. So the system is designed to give you approximately 18 to 20 hours of breathable air. There is emergency O2 on board, but that's a personal mask which you would have to take, and you don't really want to get there because of the danger of using O2 in its purest forms. It's extremely volatile and subject to ignition. At most, they have just 16 hours of safe, breathable air left.

In that time, they need to extract themselves from the wreck, then go into a controlled ascent back to the surface. They can't waste a single second. With his military background, Dick is used to finding solutions under pressure. Fortunately, his two colleagues are equally calm and collected. Everyone snaps into gear. He's going to a different mode. You have a different mindset, a psyche where you're

going to think, right, this isn't our survival. We now have to make sure that we are in charge of our destiny here. There's nobody out there going to help us. PH goes straight to the radio to warn the nadir. But it seems that in the process of getting swept underneath the wreck, they've gone dark. The Transponder on top of the submersible Nautilus was enshrouded and blocked by overhanging debris so we effectively fell off the radar so Nadir couldn't see us. That became quite significant because we also couldn't speak to the Nadir either.

But they can't control any of that. Their first step must be to use the technology at their disposal to assess their surroundings, to work out exactly how the sub has become stuck and what they can do to free it. But all the while they have to be conservative with their power usage. The cameras, the lights, of course every single action that we undertook burnt the power. Not only are we going to drain the battery system using lights and cameras all the time, but certainly you never know what you have to keep in store. The Nautil is fitted with two lateral and vertical thrusters, as well as a main propeller at the rear.

It's decided that the best way to dislodge the sub is by putting the main propeller in reverse and trying to power themselves backwards, like a car reversing out of a muddy ditch. Dick, George and PH take their positions. Dick, George and PH take their positions. PH fires up the motors and the thrusters roar into life. The titanium walls tremble as the propellers strain against the weight of the 10-ton sub to no avail. All we were doing was generating a huge amount of turbulence as the seabed and the rusticles around the whole area were whipping up into this hugely red cloud of opaque dust and mud and bits and pieces which we see through the porthole. After several futile minutes, PH switches off the thrusters.

There's no point in having those on. You need to conserve power. You didn't need to burn anymore power. So stop again. Plan B. Now what? We have to use the arms. We don't want to, but we're going to have to use the arms somehow. The Nautilus is equipped with two dextrous robotic arms used to pick up artifacts from the ocean floor. By extending the arms outward and pushing them down against the seabed, they might provide the thrusters with the extra propelling force they need. It's a risky strategy. The mechanical arms could easily break, or they could dislodge something above them and bring several tons of steel crashing down on the submersible. But what choice do they have?

PH engages the thrusters again. Dick flicks a couple of switches, then takes control of the robotic arms. Extends them outward, driving them down into the silty North Atlantic mud. Bear in mind, all this is done in your mind's eye. You're envisaging what you're doing because you can't physically see it properly. And the right arm will go forward and then push and try and claw us back at the same time, pivoting on the left arm and then using the thrusters to go in reverse.

So it's a combined effort. The Nautil shudders and groans, each rivet rattling in its casing. Still, PH pushes the thrusters. Dick throws his weight behind the arm levers, pushing them to the max, gritting his teeth as the entire sub vibrates with the strain. Eventually, he feels a slight easing of the resistance against the mechanical arms.

He's able to extend them a little further, a centimeter at a time, as the Nautil starts inching backwards. It's working. The men let go of the controls to allow the system to cool down and to let the sand and debris around them dissipate. But before they can resume their efforts. Whilst waiting to restart it, we felt a little bump and surge and we got pushed a bit further into that jammed wreck scenario.

Which was, I think if you say unlucky, is probably being kind. It was silly demoralizing, and because whatever progress we've clearly made had just been undone. All they've done is make matters worse, creating an even deeper hole for the current to force them back into. To be then picked up and bumped and pushed back in by a rogue tide or flow was the Sillanese disarming. It was terrifying, the impact for us. It was tense, it was more than tense, it was terrifying. We were thinking, what can we do now?

Despite the setback, they still believe in their original plan. After a brief, muttered consultation, they decide to give it another go. But now they have at least diagnosed the problem. We are obviously causing troughs as we are blowing the seabed with the thrusters. The problem with that of course is that your traction and the force of water coming out of a thruster is getting visor-reduced because the depth of that hole and that distance to sea bed point attraction is also increasing. All they can do is keep trying and hope that eventually they'll generate enough traction

with the combined use of the arms and the thrusters to lift themselves out of their predicament. The clock is ticking. The oxygen on board the sub is recirculated through a system of scrubbers which remove CO2. The scrubbers must be changed regularly to ensure they're still absorbing the gas effectively. How much longer do they have before they start to breathe toxic air? We're approaching a time where we have to change the scrubbers, not notably you couldn't detect it.

But clearly the air is getting more stale, the CO2 percentage is rising, and what you don't want to do is get to a state of hypoxia and start to lose consciousness. They power up the thrusters, ready to try again. Dick pushes the lever that extends the robotic arms. Again, the cramped capsule echoes with noise as the system's going to overdrive. Slowly, but surely, they can feel the sub start to lift away from the seabed and move backwards, out from underneath the overhang. We clearly had got some traction, we clearly had made some headway.

It's working, we're okay, the plan is working, the technique is working. Dick looks over at PH, his face etched with concentration as he blasts the thrusters. Behind him, George mutters words of encouragement. He's watching the levels, ensuring they don't push it too far, while also keeping an eye on the rear camera, making sure their path is clear of obstacles. Dick wipes the sweat from his brow. He adjusts the angle of the arms. That's it. Easy does it.

And then... The combination of the thrusters and utilizing the two arms and the attitudes that we had them, and with a little bit of luck and support from Mother Nature, we managed to get a bit of a lift from a local tide. There's a sudden jolt of movement. Dick lets go of the lever. He can feel the Norteel lifting from the seabed and drifting into clearer open water. We felt that all of a sudden, that familiar that all of a sudden, that familiar sort of floating sensation, that bobbing sensation, that we are now actually free of any hazard or restraint or being held. And that's the moment when you want to go, yes, thank you, Lord, hooray, we're free. And that's exactly the moment you don't want to do that because you have to focus.

and hooray, we're free. And that's exactly what we don't want to do that because you have to focus." A few agonizing seconds go by as the crew wait to see if the act of freeing themselves has caused any further damage to the sub. Everything seems okay, but they're still in serious peril. The thrusters have churned the seabed into a blizzard of sand and silt, and they are still adrift in a minefield of jagged debris. And even if they do manage to clear the wreckage, there is still the ascent to worry about. An arduous journey of twelve and a half thousand feet, fraught with plenty of dangers of its own. It's evening, about 14 hours since the Norteel first descended. At the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean, the sub gingerly backs away from the wreck of the

Titanic. In the swirling silt and sand, they're essentially flying blind. We didn't want to do that too much because we knew that the overhang of the stern section was significant too, so we weren't quite sure how clear of that we were. And if we were coming off the stebed, would we collide then into the top of an overhang? Dick braces himself for an impact. But nothing comes. Have they successfully moved clear of the overhanging decks? As if to answer that question, the sonar pings into life.

The Nautil appears on a circular screen, the glowing white dot, a miraculous sight for Dick, George and PH. The sonar picked up, we saw, we were back online, we knew that the pinger was working again, and as a consequence Nadea could certainly see us. And we thought, right, this is now a point of having to gather ourselves, contain our excitement, and obviously the aspiration of being free, but make sure we are free. We didn't really know what exactly was around us, behind us, and on top of us. But we knew the way we had to come out was to ascend. We had to get some clear distance between the seabed and the wreck site, or the actual stern section itself, and we had to be able to make sure that path was clear. So we just slowly inched

backwards, slowly inched upwards. Slowly inched backwards, slowly inched upwards. Eventually, PH gives Dick a firm nod. He's satisfied they're far enough from the wreck to begin the ascent. Above them, pending some catastrophic error of judgement, there should be clear blue water. Still, even an unobstructed ascent presents certain difficulties, from the possibility of curious sea creatures to the danger of surface conditions blowing them off course. We're still not free, we're still not home. We still have to negotiate that water column during which time anything can happen.

We've been bumped by whales before. We're a large object and they're curious so they come along and want to see us. So there's still a number of things that happen. Slowly, carefully, the crew begins displacing the water inside the ballast tanks, bringing the sub up towards the surface. The radio crackles into life. With comms re-established with the Nadir, Dick and his colleagues can keep tabs on the support ship's location to avoid a collision. They guide the ship up and up. They're almost there. They guide the ship up and up. They're almost there.

The Nautilus gets lighter because of course the pressure is reducing, so we start to descend quicker, so we have to control that slightly. And we start to get to a point where it becomes really quite exciting. We are now going home, we're now getting back up. But there's always that chance. And so far, this trip hasn't really gone to plan. The way the light is cutting through the clear water shows that they're nearing the surface, maybe just a few hundred feet from safety.

And then... And then we see the lights for the rescue divers through the portholes. They're coming up, tearing at us. Lots of thumbs up, lots of OKs, lots of lights and torches flying around. And we're doing the same thing, acknowledging their signs. Dick listens to the clamps tightening around the Nautilus that she had locked into the cradle. He feels a sudden rush of weightlessness as the submersible is hoisted out of the water and hangs momentarily suspended from the nadir's retractable lowering system. And then we start to feel us lift again out of the water which is really quite uncanny

because you're now really out of control. You're literally rolling and rocking. You can see through the portholes, through the lights of the Madea. You can see just a little like a Christmas tree. You can see people on the deck and elation. And I think at that point, that's when we start to realize that we're home, we're safe. We are now okay. The submersible and her three crewmen are winched back aboard the nadir and locked in place on the ship's rear deck. There's a clang of heavy footsteps above their heads, followed by a single loud crack as somebody opens the hatch, letting fresh air surge inside.

Dick's ears experience an agonizing adjustment to the drop in pressure, but it lasts only a second. He looks around at George and PH, and for the first time since their emergency began, the three men allow themselves a moment to pause and reflect. You'd think the first thing you'd want to do is get out, but it's not. We look at each other, we're quite emotional. We think about, reflect momentarily, I think, of what has just happened, where we've been, but more importantly where we are now. And just a very genuine, reserved congratulations

to each and every one of us mutually, of job well done guys, and yeah, camaraderie and all of those emotions that I know experiences when they've been put in the face of absolute abject fear and trauma and danger. So we sit a little bit and reflect, look up and slowly climb out of the submersible. In the years that follow, Dick Barton remains a vital member of RMS Titanic Inc. A vast trove of artifacts is now on display in museums across the world,

safely preserved for posterity. Dick goes on to make a total of 22 dives down to the wreck site, but none of them bring him so close to death as that dive of August 1994. When he looks back on that day, he marvels at the composure and sheer dogged optimism that he, PH and George were able to maintain. We all have our different foibles, we all have our different attitudes, we all have our different thought processes, and we all have our different foibles, we all have our different attitudes, we all have our different thought processes, and we all have our different survival techniques.

And without question, my inner strength is self-belief. Just not quite sure how I'm going to get out of here yet, but I know I will. Today, Dick's passion for exploration burns just as bright as it did 30 years ago. Well, why shouldn't it? I was never even a thought that, you know, this was a, well, take that as a warning, son, you know, you've got off right, you're okay. You know, perhaps you should readjust and refocus and change your day job. But no, it was something that never really occurred to me, even to this day. We're all older and slower and less able than we used to be, but

I certainly wish I could still do the certain things I could do 20 years ago, but There's no reason why I can't. I still will. I always hoped to. It's called Titanic Ship of Dreams. Join host Paul McGann as he explores life and death on the most famous ship in history. From the opulent dining rooms, Turkish baths and squash courts of first class to the raucous parties and Irish hoolies down in Steerich. You'll be right there on board, setting sail from Southampton, chugging across the Atlantic, striking the iceberg, You'll be right there on board, setting sail from Southampton, chugging across the Atlantic, striking the iceberg, and descending into the icy depths. Find and follow Titanic Ship of Dreams wherever you get your shows. In the next episode, we meet search and rescue diver Jay O'Donnell.

In January 2007, as a major once-in-a-lifetime cyclone approaches the UK, Jay finds himself responsible for the lives of 26 people. After a catastrophe in the English Channel, a tiny lifeboat stuffed with crewmen is left at the mercy of the furious sea. As Jay flies in to help, it becomes clear that this rescue mission is beyond anything he or his colleagues have ever encountered. Technical issues, appalling conditions, and even a man overboard all make

the mission seem insurmountable. And if he is to save these 26 souls, Jay also has to find a way to survive himself. Jay also has to find a way to survive himself. That's next time on Real Survival Stories. Listen right now without waiting a week by subscribing to Noiza Plus.