The book was published in 1987.
When J.I.M. Stewart (Oxford scholar and celebrated mystery writer) was six years old, he attended The Loss of the Titanic in 1912 in Edinburgh, Scotland. He writes about the experience in his book Myself and Michael Innes: A Memoir. Here is a short except from the book.
It follows too that the doomed liner must appear on our right. We wait for it, already in agonizing suspence. Its bow
appears - just. In fact, a shade hesitently in the wings. It advances again, a blaze of minute lights near where the sky meets the ocean. Ever so slowly, the iceberg is drifting east. It is like an enormous twirl of confectioner's sugar on top of a cake, but
faintly green and therefore hugely sinister.
These two objects duly collide. There is a dreadful sound - I don't know how contrived - of impregnable steel punctured and ripped open as might be a
tin of sardines.
One small boy is momentarily conscious of nothing but a hideous clutching in his reins. The iceberg disengages itself and glides smoothly (or almost smoothly) on. Most of the lights on
the Titanic have been extinguihed. The Titanic tilt slowly and then slowly disappears - the stern first or the bow first: I don't remember - beneath that peaceful ocean.
The show made quite an impression! J.I.M. Stewart goes on to
write that he must have been one of many Edinburgh contemporaries who, mute before Mr. Poole's spectacle, are haunted by it still.