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The Tragic Story
======Of The======
Empress of Ireland
An Authentic Account of the Most
Horrible Disaster in Canadian History,
Constructed from the Real
Facts Obtained from Those on
Board Who Survived
And Other Great Sea Disasters
BY
LOGAN MARSHALL
Author of "The Story of Polar Conquest," "The
Story of the Panama Canal," Etc.
Containing the Statements of
CAPTAIN HENRY GEORGE KENDALL
Commanding the Empress of Ireland
----And----
CAPTAIN THOMAS ANDERSEN
Commanding the Storstad
ILLUSTRATED
With Numerous Authentic Photographs and Drawings
Copyright, 1914, by
L. T. MYERS
[Illustration: THE EMPRESS OF IRELAND
One of the finest ships of the Canadian line. Soon after leaving
Quebec on her voyage to Liverpool with over 1,300 souls on board,
she was struck by the Norwegian collier "Storstad" off Father
Point, Quebec, on May 29, 1914, at 2.10 A. M., and sank about
fifteen minutes later, carrying a thousand of her passengers down
with her.]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
Introduction 9
I. The Empress of Ireland Sails to Her Doom 13
II. Captain Kendall Blames the Storstad 29
III. Captain Andersen's Defense 33
IV. Miraculous Escape of the Few 37
V. The Stricken Survivors Return 44
VI. Heroes of the Empress Disaster 64
VII. The Surgeon's Thrilling Story 71
VIII. Ship of Death Reaches Quebec 74
IX. Solemn Services for the Dead 83
X. Crippling Loss to the Salvation Army 92
XI. Notable Passengers Aboard 110
XII. List of Survivors and Roll of the Dead 118
XIII. The Storstad Reaches Port 125
XIV. Parliament Shocked by the Calamity 132
XV. Messages of Sympathy and Help 134
XVI. Placing the Blame 140
XVII. Empress in Fact, as in Name 156
XVIII. The Norwegian Collier Storstad 161
XIX. The St. Lawrence: A Beautiful River 163
XX. The Tragic Story of the Titanic Disaster 175
XXI. The Most Sumptuous Palace Afloat 178
XXII. The Titanic Strikes an Iceberg 186
XXIII. "Women and Children First" 197
XXIV. Left to Their Fate 221
XXV. The Call for Help Heard 231
XXVI. In the Drifting Life-Boats 235
XXVII. The Tragic Home-Coming 254
XXVIII. Other Great Marine Disasters 284
XXIX. Development of Shipbuilding 292
XXX. Safety and Life-Saving Devices 300
XXXI. Seeking Safety at Sea 307
FACTS ABOUT THE WRECK OF THE EMPRESS OF IRELAND
NUMBER of persons aboard, 1,475.
Number of persons saved, 397.
Number of persons dead, 1,078.
Total number of first-class passengers, 87.
Total number of second-class passengers, 256.
Total number of third-class passengers, 717.
Total number of crew, 415.
The Salvation Army Delegation numbered 150; of these 124 were lost.
The Empress of Ireland was a twin-screw vessel of 14,500 tons.
The vessel was built in Glasgow in 1906 by the Fairfield Company,
Ltd., and was owned by the Canadian Pacific Railway.
The Storstad is a single-screw vessel, registering 6,028 tons.
The vessel was built by the Armstrong, Whitworth Company at Newcastle
in 1911, and is owned by the Dampsk Aktieselk Maritime of Christiania,
Norway.
[Illustration: CANADA MOURNS]
INTRODUCTION
"THOSE who go down to the sea in ships" was once a synonym for those
who gambled with death and put their lives upon the hazard. Today the
mortality at sea is less than on common carriers on land. But the
futility of absolute prevention of accident is emphasized again and
again. The regulation of safety makes catastrophes like that of the
Empress of Ireland all the more tragic and terrible. A blow, a
ripping, the side taken out of a ship, darkness, the inrush of waters,
a panic, and then in the hush the silent corpses drifting by.
So with the Canadian liner. She has gone to her grave leaving a trail
of sorrow behind her. Hundreds of human hearts and homes are in
mourning for the loss of dear companions and friends. The universal
sympathy which is written in every face and heard in every voice
proves that man is more than the beasts that perish. It is an evidence
of the divine in humanity. Why should we care? There is no reason in
the world, unless there is something in us that is different from lime
and carbon and phosphorus, something that makes us mortals able to
suffer together--
"For we have all of us an human heart."
The collision which sent the Empress of Ireland to the bottom of the
St. Lawrence with hundreds of passengers in their berths produced a
shudder throughout the civilized world. And the effect on the spirits
of the millions who received the shock will not soon pass off. The
Titanic tragedy sat heavy on the minds of the people of this
generation for months after it happened.
There is hardly any one in touch with world affairs who will not feel
himself drawn into the circle of mourners over such a disaster. From
every center of great calamity waves of sympathetic sorrow spread to
far-distant strangers, but the perishing of great numbers in a
shipwreck seems to impress our human nature more profoundly than do
accidents or visitations of other kinds in which the toll of death is
as great. Our concern for those in danger seems to turn especially to
those in peril on the sea.
Science has wrought miracles for the greater protection of those
afloat. Wireless telegraphy, air-tight compartments, the construction
which has produced what is called "the unsinkable ship," have added
greatly to the safety of ocean travel. But science cannot eliminate
the element of error. None of the aids that the workers for safe
transit have bestowed on navigation could avail to prevent what
happened in the early hours of May 29, 1914. The Empress of Ireland
was rammed by another vessel, and so crushed as to be unable to remain
afloat for more than fifteen minutes after the impact.
Overwhelmed by the catastrophe we fall back upon that faith in the
Unseen Power which is never shaken by the appearance of what seems to
be unnecessary evil or inexplicable cruelty. Trust in God involves the
belief that behind the stupendous processes of natural life there is a
divine wisdom so deeply grounded upon reality that no human mind can
comprehend its precepts and a divine love so boundless in its
compassion that no human heart can measure its scope. We concede the
knowledge of the divine mind to be "too wonderful" for our
understanding. "It is high: I cannot attain unto it."
Therefore we are prepared for the awful, the mysterious, and even the
terrible. Nothing in the universal process can disturb or confound us.
If a thing appears to be evil it is wisdom which is at fault. If an
event seems to be cruel it is our love which is blind. We look upon
the chances and changes of human experience even as we gaze at night
upon the movements of the heavenly spheres; we would as little think
of questioning the beneficence of the one as of the other.
Come sorrow or joy, failure or success, death or life--it is all the
same. We trust God, and therefore we trust life, which is simply the
thing that God is doing. "Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him!"
Yea, it is only when God seems to slay us that we _can_ trust in Him,
for trust begins only when knowledge fails; just as the stars shine
only when the sun is gone!
[Illustration: HE IS THE PILOT IN A FOG]
CHAPTER I
THE EMPRESS OF IRELAND SAILS TO HER DOOM
ANOTHER TOLL OF THE SEA -- THE EMPRESS SAILS FROM QUEBEC -- THE
HOLIDAY HUMOR OF THE PASSENGERS -- CAPTAIN KENDALL WARNED OF FOGS
-- THE STORSTAD SIGHTED -- FOG SUDDENLY SETTLES -- THE STORSTAD
CRASHES INTO THE EMPRESS -- INJURY ON STARBOARD SIDE -- A MORTAL
BLOW -- WIRELESS CALLS FOR HELP -- HUNDREDS DROWN IN CABIN -- NO
TIME TO ROUSE PASSENGERS -- LIFE-BOATS LAUNCHED IN RECORD TIME --
THE EMPRESS GOES DOWN
ONCE again an appalling sea disaster comes to remind us that no
precautions man can take will make him immune against the forces that
nature, when she so wills, can assemble against him. It is a truism to
say that the most recent marine disaster was preventable. An accident
suggests the idea of preventability. The Empress of Ireland was
equipped with modern appliances for safety. She had longitudinal and
transverse water-tight steel bulkheads and the submarine signaling and
wireless apparatus. She was being navigated with all the precaution
and care which the dangers of the course and the atmospheric
conditions demanded. The Storstad had been sighted and signaled. The
Empress was at a standstill, or slowly moving backward in response to
a hasty reversal of the engines. Nothing apparently that those
responsible for the lives of their passengers could do to safeguard
those lives was left undone, and yet hundreds of people perished
miserably.
THE EMPRESS SAILS FROM QUEBEC
Proudly the Empress of Ireland, under the command of Lieutenant Henry
George Kendall of the Royal Navy Reserves, moved from her dock at
Quebec, about half past four on the afternoon of Thursday, May 28,
1914, bound for Liverpool. Amid scenes that are ever new and full of
deep feeling to those who are taking their leave or bidding God-speed
to dear ones, the majestic ship began what her hundreds of
light-hearted passengers anticipated as a _bon voyage_. The last
"Good-bye, and God bless you!" had been said; the last embrace had
been bestowed; the last "All ashore that's going ashore," had been
called out; the last home-stayer had regretfully hurried down the
gang-board; and then, while hands, hats and handkerchiefs were waved,
with the ship's band playing a solemn hymn, distance grew apace
between the Empress and the land.
THE HOLIDAY HUMOR OF THE PASSENGERS
Fainter and fainter the crowd on the dock appeared to the passengers
on board, until finally the dock itself was lost to view as the
graceful vessel gained headway. Some of the passengers remained long
at the ship's rail, held by the fascination of the water, which seemed
swiftly to approach, and as swiftly to move away. Others, singly or
in groups, left the rail to arrange their belongings in their
staterooms, to inspect the magnificence of the vessel's equipment, and
to accustom themselves to their new surroundings.
Twilight settled without dampening the gay humor of the throng. The
first meal on board was eaten with a relish which only the occasion
could impart, and the passengers disposed themselves for the full
enjoyment of the evening.
CAPTAIN KENDALL WARNED OF FOGS
Captain Kendall had been warned of the prevalence of fogs in the lower
river, and information had reached the liner also that there were
forest fires in Quebec which were throwing smoke blankets over the St.
Lawrence. Having experienced such conditions before, the commander of
the Empress, while quite unalarmed, took the usual precautions.
As night came on he reduced the liner's speed. The night was still
clear when the incoming Alsatian passed so closely that her passengers
had a fine view of the big Canadian Pacific Railway ship, which showed
beautifully and majestically as she swung by with her decks blazing
with electric lights.
Captain Kendall stopped his ship at Rimouski, a town of 2,000
inhabitants, on the New Brunswick shore, about 180 miles northeast of
Quebec as the channel flows. It is a mail station, the last outpost of
the Dominion mail service. Bags of mail were loaded aboard, and the
Empress moved steadily out into the broad river.
At this point the St. Lawrence, leading into the inland sea, which is
the gulf of St. Lawrence, is thirty miles wide. The channel runs about
ten miles from the New Brunswick shore and about twenty miles from the
Quebec shore.
At midnight the tide was running in strongly. The weather was cold and
there was a piercing sting to the air. The mercury had fallen to just
above the freezing point. Few passengers were stirring after midnight.
It was too cold on deck to make late vigils pleasurable. There were a
few parties in the smoking room at bridge and poker, but the great
majority of the passengers were in their berths.
THE STORSTAD SIGHTED
At half past one o'clock Friday morning the Empress reached Father
Point, where the pilot was dropped. The vessel then proceeded at full
speed. After passing the Cock Point gas buoy, Captain Kendall sighted
the Norwegian collier Storstad. To quote from his own story, as he has
told it in another chapter: "The Storstad was then about one point on
my starboard bow. At that time I saw a slight fog bank coming
gradually from the land and knew it was going to pass between the
Storstad and myself. The Storstad was about two miles away at the
time.
[Illustration: DIAGRAM OF THE ST. LAWRENCE RIVER SHOWING WHERE THE
COLLISION OCCURRED BETWEEN THE EMPRESS OF IRELAND AND THE STORSTAD.
The safety of the St. Lawrence has long been the subject of
debate. Certainly it has certain natural features which make it
dangerous at some seasons of the year; and of course lack of
knowledge of its waters and the absence of aids to navigation were
the cause of wrecks in the early stages of its navigation. But the
same might be said of any other great route of trade; and there
can be no question whatever that the various governments of Canada
have for many years been wide-awake to adopt means of protecting
mariners on this greatest water route into the heart of the
American continent. Today, so great has been the progress made,
that it is a common opinion of shipping men that it is almost as
safe to navigate the ship channel up to Montreal by night as in
the full light of day.]
FOG SUDDENLY SETTLES
"Then the fog came and the Storstad lights disappeared. I rang full
speed astern on my engines and stopped my ship. At the same time I
blew three short blasts on the steamer's whistle, meaning 'I am
going full speed astern.' The Storstad answered with the whistle,
giving me one prolonged blast. I then looked over the side of my ship
into the water and saw my ship was stopped. I stopped my engines and
blew two long blasts, meaning 'my ship was under way but stopped and
has no way upon her.' He answered me again with one prolonged blast.
The sound was then about four points upon my starboard bow. It was
still foggy. I then looked out to where the sound came from. About two
minutes afterward I saw his red and green lights. He would then be
about one ship's length away from me.
THE STORSTAD CRASHES INTO THE EMPRESS
"I shouted to him through the megaphone to go full speed astern as I
saw the danger of collision was inevitable. At the same time I put my
engines full speed ahead, with my helm hard aport, with the object of
avoiding, if possible, the shock. Almost at the same time he came
right in and cut me down in a line between the funnels."
Captain Thomas Andersen, who commanded the Storstad, gives a different
explanation of the approach of the two ships. According to his
version, which is given elsewhere under his own name, "the vessels
sighted each other when far apart. The Empress of Ireland was seen off
the port bow of the Storstad. The Empress of Ireland's green or
starboard light was visible to those on the Storstad. Under these
circumstances the rules of navigation gave the Storstad the right of
way. The heading of the Empress was then changed in such a manner as
to put the vessels in a position to pass safely. Shortly after a fog
enveloped first the Empress and then the Storstad.
"Fog signals were exchanged. The Storstad's engines were at once
slowed and then stopped. Her heading remained unaltered. Whistles from
the Empress were heard on the Storstad's port bow and were answered.
The Empress of Ireland was then seen through the fog close at hand on
the port bow of the Storstad. She was showing her green light and was
making considerable headway.
"The engines of the Storstad were at once reversed at full speed and
her headway was nearly checked when the vessels came together."
INJURY ON STARBOARD SIDE
The horrible fact, about which there can be no dispute, is that the
Storstad crashed bow on into the side of the big Canadian liner,
striking it on the starboard side about midway of its length. The
steel-sheathed bow of the collier cut through the plates and shell of
the Empress and penetrated the hull for a distance of about twelve
feet, according to the best testimony.
The water didn't flow in. It rushed in. From such stories as could be
gathered from survivors and from members of the crew, it appears that
Captain Kendall and his officers did all that was humanly possible in
the fourteen minutes that the Empress hung on the river.
Captain Kendall said that he rang to the engine-room for full speed
ahead, with the object of trying to run ashore and save the
passengers, but almost immediately after the engines stopped and the
ship began to list rapidly. The captain of the Storstad declares that
it was this action of Captain Kendall that prevented him from holding
the bow of the Storstad in the gaping hole it made and that it was the
Empress herself, with the way upon her, following the order "Full
steam ahead," which drew away from the Storstad, bending the collier's
bow out of the great gash in the liner's side, and disappeared in the
fog. What further damage may have been done as the vessels parted no
one seemed to know certainly.
FOUGHT FOR LIFE IN DARKNESS
Instantly, it seemed as though there was a nightmare of sounds, cries
of fear and agony that were too awful to be real. All lights went out
almost at once. More than 1,400 persons were fighting for life in the
black dark; yet, for the most part the flight was not one of panic,
but grim determination to find, if possible, some means of safety.
Wireless operator Bomford and others who managed to win a way to the
top deck saw scores leap into the sea. They saw hundreds trying to
crawl up decks that were sloping precipitously, lose their balance and
fall backward into the rising water. Passengers who couldn't get to
the few life-boats in time seized chairs, anything loose they could
find, and leaped into the river.
Very many persons perished in the cold water while clinging to bits of
wreckage and praying for help.
[Illustration: THE COLLISION ON THE ST. LAWRENCE
To make clear the somewhat contradictory testimony of Captain
Kendall, of the Empress of Ireland, and Captain Andersen, of the
collier Storstad, as to what took place just before and at the
time of the fatal collision, diagrams Nos. 1 and 2, which are
based on their statements, tell their own story. In No. 1 the
vessels are shown in the position in which they were when first
sighted, about which position both captains agree, the Storstad
coming up the river on the starboard, or right side of the Empress
of Ireland, so that those on the Storstad saw the green, or
starboard, light of the Empress of Ireland over the port, or left,
bow of the Storstad. The collier was in such a position that those
on the Empress of Ireland could see both its red, port, light and
its green, starboard, light. If the rules of the sea had been
observed, the Empress of Ireland would have gone off to the right
or steered to starboard so that the vessels would have passed each
other easily. Instead, both vessels took a course which finally
ended in position No. 2, in which the Storstad struck the Empress
of Ireland between the funnels on the right, or starboard, side,
hitting it a glancing blow with its starboard, or right, bow. As
to how this fatal position was reached, the captains disagree, the
question of the kind of signals and what response was made, or
should have been made, being in dispute.]
A MORTAL BLOW
In a moment the fate of the Empress was known to all. The one smashing
blow had done for her and the great bull-nose of the 3,500-ton
freighter had crashed through the ribs and bulkheads. The one pithy
sentence of Captain Kendall summed all. "The ship is gone," he said;
"women to the boats."
Kendall was hurt and in great pain, but he showed the pluck and
decision of a naval officer. In the first minute of the disaster he
ordered young Edward Bomford, the wireless operator, to flash the
S. O. S. call, the cry for help that every ship must heed. He ordered
officers and stewards to collect as many passengers as could be found
and hold them for the boats. He had nine life-boats overboard within
ten minutes.
WIRELESS CALLS FOR HELP
The S. O. S. call was ticked out by Edward Bomford, the junior
wireless operator. Bomford had just come on duty to relieve Ronald
Ferguson, when the Storstad rammed the Empress. Both young men were
thrown to the deck. As they picked themselves up they heard the chorus
of the disaster, the cries, groans and screams of injured and drowning
passengers.
An officer came running to the wireless house with orders from Captain
Kendall, but Bomford, at the key, didn't have to wait for orders. He
began to call the Marconi station at Father Point, and kept at it
desperately until he had the ear of the Father Point operator.
Then young Bomford turned his wireless to search the river and gulf,
and he hurled the news of the Empress' fate for 500 miles oceanward.
Many steamships picked up the call, but they were hours away. They
started for the position given, but long before they had made any
progress the Empress and two-thirds of her ship's company were under
fifteen fathoms of water. Fourteen minutes is too brief a time for
much rescue work.
HUNDREDS DROWN IN CABINS
Had there been time, hundreds who went down with the ship would have
survived. A thousand men and women who had been asleep awoke too late
to scramble to the decks. They were crushed or mangled by the bow of
the Storstad, injured by splintered timbers or overwhelmed in the
terrific rush of water.
It is probable that scores who were asleep were killed instantly, but
hundreds perished while feebly struggling for doorways, or while
trying for a footing on sloping decks. The terror and confusion of the
few minutes, while the Empress staggered, listed and sank, can hardly
be put in words. The survivors themselves could not describe those
minutes adequately.
In the brief space of time between the shock of the collision and the
sinking of the liner there was little chance for systematic marshaling
of the passengers. Indeed, everything indicates that hundreds of those
on the steamer probably never reached the decks.
NO TIME TO ROUSE PASSENGERS
The stewards did not have time to rouse the people from their berths.
Those who heard the frenzied calls of the officers for the passengers
to hurry on deck lost no time in obeying them, rushing up from their
cabins in scanty attire. They piled into the boats, which were rapidly
lowered, and were rowed away. Many who waited to dress were drowned.
The horror of the interval during which the Empress of Ireland was
rapidly filling and the frightened throngs on board her were hurrying
every effort to escape before she sank was added to by what seemed
like an explosion, which quickly followed the ripping and tearing
given the liner by the Storstad's bow. As Captain Kendall afterwards
explained, this supposed explosion was in reality the pressure of air
caused by the in-rushing water. The ship's heavy list as the water
pouring in weighted her on the side she was struck, made the work of
launching boats increasingly difficult from moment to moment, and when
she finally took her plunge to the bottom scores still left on her
decks were carried down in the vortex, only a few being able to clear
her sides and find support on pieces of wreckage.
IN THEIR NIGHT CLOTHES
Many passengers fortunate enough to get into the life-boats found
themselves garbed only in their night clothes. No baggage was saved.
The condition of the survivors was pitiable. Some had broken arms and
legs, and all had suffered terribly. L. A. Gosselin, a prominent
lawyer from Montreal, saved himself by clinging to a raft.
PICKED UP THE CAPTAIN
Ernest Hayes, an assistant purser, said that he leaped from the
promenade deck a minute or two after the collision. He climbed into
No. 3 life-boat, which, a few minutes later, picked up Captain
Kendall.
J. W. Black and his wife, who live in Ottawa, jumped together before
the ship sank. They got on deck too late to find places in a
life-boat. They decided to jump and take their chances. Fortune was
with them, for it sent wreckage to Mr. Black's hand, and he kept his
wife above water until a life-boat reached them.
William Measures, of Montreal, a member of the Salvation Army band,
jumped overboard and swam to a life-boat. A young Englishman said
there was a terrific shock when the Storstad struck. He had time only
to throw a dressing gown over his pajamas and to awaken two of his
friends.
To pluckily leap from the deck of the sinking liner and swim around
for nearly an hour in the river, and then to fall dead from exhaustion
on the deck of the Eureka, was the fate of an unknown woman.
Fourteen minutes settled the whole affair. With the decks careening,
the captain, officers and crew strove like fiends to release the
boats. One after one, laden with a mass of humanity, sped away. The
Storstad followed suit with as much ability, but the time was brief.
Boats there were a plenty, but time there was none.
When the listing increased and the nose of the ill-fated liner twisted
skyward, panic seized upon the horde of persons, and once more a loud,
prolonged burst of agony from several hundred throats vibrated through
the fog.
LIFE-BOATS LAUNCHED IN RECORD TIME
It takes five minutes to launch boats during a drill in harbor, when
everything is calm and collected and the crews are all at their proper
stations. The tarpaulin covering has to be removed, the falls cleared
away and carefully tendered, and the boat fended off as it goes down
the side.
But no more unfavorable conditions could be imagined than those
prevailing when the order "Stand by to abandon ship" rang out from the
bridge. The ship was listing over at a terrifying rate. The seas were
flooding her aft, and in addition to the list she was sinking stern
first.
Men hurled from sleep by the shock of the collision had to hurry to
their stations in the confusion that must have been inseparable from
such an accident. Precious moments inevitably were lost in getting the
boat crews to their post, and all the time the ship was going down.
Once the crew were at their stations, the launching of the boats must
have gone on with the precision of clock-work. It was all done in
twelve minutes. That was remarkable discipline. That these nine boats
were lowered successfully in the few minutes remaining before the ship
made her final plunge is something that will be remembered forever.
THE EMPRESS GOES DOWN
While these frantic attempts at rescue were going on, the doomed ship
was rapidly settling. Her decks were awash, and then, with a spasmodic
heave, as if giant hands from below were pulling her down, the massive
sea castle tilted to the bottom. Wreckage, spars and bobbing heads,
and the few small boats trying to escape the vortex--with the slow
heaving bulk of the collier in the background--alone marked the scene
of the catastrophe.
SIR THOMAS SHAUGHNESSY, PRESIDENT OF CANADIAN PACIFIC, DEPLORES LOSS
OF LIFE
SIR THOMAS SHAUGHNESSY, president of the Canadian Pacific Railway,
issued the following statement on the morning of the Empress accident:
"The catastrophe because of the great loss of life is the most
serious in the history of the St. Lawrence route. Owing to the
distance to the nearest telegraph or telephone station from the
scene of the wreck there is unavoidable delay in obtaining
official details, but we expect a report from Captain Kendall in
the course of the afternoon.
"From the facts as we have them, it is apparent that about two
o'clock this morning the Empress of Ireland when off Rimouski
and stopped in a dense fog was rammed by the Norwegian collier
Storstad in such a manner as to tear the ship from the middle to
the screw, thus making the water-tight bulkheads with which she
was provided useless. The vessel settled down in fourteen
minutes.
"The accident occurred at a time when the passengers were in bed
and the interval before the steamship went down was not
sufficient to enable the officers to rouse the passengers and
get them into the boats, of which there were sufficient to
accommodate a very much larger number of people than those on
board, including passengers and crew. That such an accident
should be possible in the river St. Lawrence to a vessel of the
class of the Empress of Ireland and with every possible
precaution taken by the owners to insure the safety of the
passengers and the vessel is deplorable.
"The saddest feature of the disaster is, of course, the great
loss of life, and the heartfelt sympathy of everybody connected
with the company goes out to the relatives and friends of all
those who met death on the ill-fated steamship."