THE STRICKEN SURVIVORS RETURN
EXTREME SUFFERING AMONG SURVIVORS -- FEW WOMEN AND CHILDREN SAVED
-- CROWD GREETS SURVIVORS -- MANY INJURED -- EXPERIENCES OF
SURVIVORS
A GRIM reminder of the fact that even the most perfect of modern
Atlantic liners is subject to the dangers of the sea was given when
the survivors of the passengers and crew who so gaily sailed from
Quebec on Thursday returned to that city, ragged, exhausted and
wounded, leaving hundreds of their shipmates dead in the river or
strewing the shore with their corpses.
EXTREME SUFFERING AMONG SURVIVORS
The survivors were carried by the special Intercolonial Railway, and a
more mixed, worn-out crowd of passengers never appeared on a train in
Canada. It was more like a relief train after a battle than a
returning party from a steamship. The men were weary and worn, dressed
in anything that could be secured at Rimouski to cover them, most of
them having been rescued either nude or in their night clothes.
FEW WOMEN AND CHILDREN SAVED
The women in the party were few, it being evident that the terrible
experiences of the early part of the day, when the Empress of Ireland
went to the bottom of the St. Lawrence, had claimed a far greater toll
of the weaker sex.
Such few women as were left showed shocking traces of the hardships
and anguish they had endured. Most of them were supported by men, and
after disembarking from the train walked through the lane of curious
sight-seers with drawn features and the utter indifference of
suffering and fatigue.
A pathetic contrast was furnished by the presence of a few children in
the sad procession, who had with the buoyancy of youth recovered from
the shipwreck and prattled merrily to mothers or to their protectors
when their mothers were not there, evidently enjoying the excitement
of the rescue.
CROWD GREETS SURVIVORS
The crush about the train, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour,
was tremendous. A huge crowd gathered in and near the station, which
resounded with a cheer as the survivors filed on the platform. The
latter experienced difficulty in passing through the portals to the
waiting civic motor cars.
Some of the spectators endeavored to sing the Doxology, but it was a
feeble effort. Heart-broken relatives sobbed, while others wandered
aimlessly in and out of the crowd looking for an absent face. Three
young girls were seen crying piteously for their parents who were
drowned. They were taken in charge by a Salvation Army officer and
conveyed to the Training Home.
Throngs surged forward and defied the policemen in an endeavor to
snatch a glimpse of the saved ones. Leaning on the arm of a friend, a
tall woman wearing huge bandages stepped first to the platform and her
profound sigh of relief was heard by everyone in the hushed
assemblage. Around her forehead was strapped a bandage. The chin bore
a large zigzag of court-plaster and a heavy black welt under the eye
showed what painful injuries she had received. She was Mrs. Eddy from
Birmingham, England. At the crash she had rushed to the deck in night
attire, and this action resulted in her rescue.
MANY INJURED
Then came the long row of stretchers with their inert occupants. Every
man was alive, but in many cases that was all. In spite of arms and
legs broken in the grinding of wreckage, many of these cripples had
remained afloat long enough to be seen and gathered in.
Every one of the invalids was rushed in a special ambulance to the
Jeffrey Hale Hospital, while the slightly injured were allotted to
quarters in the Chateau Frontenac.
Touching in its pathos was the contingent of third-class passengers.
In little groups they huddled about the stateroom of the ferry, gazing
at each other in dumb thankfulness, and rarely expressing a syllable.
There were nine Russians and two Poles bound for their homeland. In
the hour of peril they had leaped from the reeling decks, in many
instances grasping to the end the little carpet and bandana bundles
which represented all their worldly effects.
EXPERIENCES OF SURVIVORS
The stories that were related by the survivors of the horrible
disaster were dramatic, pathetic, and touched here and there with grim
humor.
"ALL OVER IN FIFTEEN MINUTES"
"It was just like walking down the beach into the sea. As the boat
went over we climbed over the rail and slid down the stanchions onto
the plates, and walked into the sea."
In this matter-of-fact manner did J. F. Duncan, of London, England,
describe how he left his cabin on the promenade deck, in his pajama
suit, and how he parted company with the ship.
When asked what he had to say about the disaster, he replied: "There
is nothing to tell; it was all over in fifteen minutes. The signals
woke me up and I lay in my berth amidships on the starboard side. That
was the side the collier ran into us, but she was a low boat, and so
my cabin was not crushed in as were some of those immediately below
me. Directly the collision occurred the Empress began to list, and I
immediately went on deck.
"When I once got out of the cabin I could not get back, but
fortunately I had taken my overcoat out of my baggage the previous
night, and I slipped this on.
KNEW IT WAS THE END
"It was pretty rotten on deck. We simply stood there, we knew we were
going down, there was no question about that from the first, and it
was no good struggling. The poor women were hysterical, but there was
no chance to do anything for them. When the steamer heeled over we
walked into the water, and I struck out for the rescuing steamer,
which was standing about half a mile off.
"Somehow or another the life-boats appeared and began picking us up. I
was in the water a jolly long time: it seemed like an hour and I
believe it was an hour. It was terribly cold and I am stiff all over
this morning. I eventually got into a life-boat and was taken on board
the collier. They told me there were fifty-three on the life-boat--it
was quite full up. Dr. Grant was on the collier, and he patched us up
until the Lady Evelyn took us ashore.
"LIKE A LOT OF INDIANS"
"We were like a lot of Red Indians when we got on the wharf--all
wrapped up in blankets. I never saw such a big supply from so small a
ship. They looked after us like princes at Rimouski. The local people
were most kind--in fact, when you see me put on my clothes you won't
think I had ever been shipwrecked. They got the clothes from the
stores and fitted us all out--it was the most wonderful place in the
world.
"Let me introduce you to my toilet," continued Mr. Duncan, as he held
up a tooth-brush and a tube of tooth paste. "I do want a bath."
Mr. Duncan paid a high tribute to Dr. Grant. "He stood out as a
typical Anglo-Saxon, calm, commanding, looking after the injured. He
is a magnificent man."
FOUR CLIMBED ON UPTURNED LIFE-BOAT; SAVED MANY LIVES
The sensation of sinking with the suction of the leviathan steamship
as she went down, of being pulled down for fathoms under water, and of
rising on the crest of the reacting swell to catch the keel of an
upturned skiff, was the night's adventure of Staff Captain McCameron,
of the Salvation Army, Toronto. The story as told in the Captain's
words is as follows:
"What an unspeakable confusion there was on the listing decks! With
every lurch of the steamer we had to take a step higher and higher to
the upper side, and finally I gained the rail, and stuck to it. I
could swim, but I knew the mad folly of jumping into that swirling
cataract at the side of the ship. She was sinking, inch by inch, now
faster and faster. In a breathless moment, I felt the last rush to the
bottom. A moment we hung on the surface. Then an endless, dreadful
force dragged us down. How deep I went I cannot know, of course. It
was yards and yards. Then came the cresting of the wave, and I was
buoyed up on it. I had clutched tight at my senses meanwhile, and
strove not to lose my head. The moment my head emerged, I saw a dark
object on the water. I struck out for this, and soon was grasping the
keel of an overturned ship's boat. I clambered aboard, not much the
worse, and not very unduly excited.
"Three or four more men also managed to get on the rocking back of the
boat, and we then got to another which we righted, and got into. The
canvas covering had not been taken from this boat, and a member of the
crew, who was of us, ripped this open and enabled us to board it. The
oars were intact. Within a few minutes, therefore, we were at work
rescuing the people whose bodies eddied about us in circles.
"One man grasped the end of my oar. He slipped. Again I reached his
hand with it. Then he sank out of sight. A woman, a foreigner, had
better fortune. The third time she did not slip off, and we managed to
get her aboard. She was saved. I do not know her name. She was a
steerage passenger.
"The ship's surgeon saved dozens of lives by his work of resuscitation
on land. No sooner had we got to shore, than he had us at work
manipulating the chests and limbs of the apparently drowned in efforts
to save them. He was a Heaven-sent messenger to many stricken souls."
SALVATION ARMY LASSIE RESCUED WHEN ABOUT TO SINK
Tales of each other's heroic rescues, and shuddering accounts of their
own mishaps and fight for life in the swirling St. Lawrence, were
told.
With a blanket thrown round her shoulders, her eyes lit with the wild
excitement of the night of horror, Miss Alice Bales, one of the young
women Salvationists who was saved, recounted how her struggles
finally brought succor and safety. Her cheeks were successively hectic
and pallid as she told the hideous story. She said:
"I thought we had struck an iceberg when I heard the fearful grinding
in the bows. With a cry to the girls who were with me, I stumbled out
of the narrow stateroom, and groped up to the deck. Here was chaos.
The ship was listing, listing, listing. Every step I took to the
uppermost part of the deck, I seemed to be slipping back into that
maelstrom of water and falling bodies. Finally, I gained the rail. I
climbed up on the rail, and with a prayer in my heart I jumped into
the blackness. The water surged over my head. Down, down, I went. I
could not swim a stroke. But I remembered that you should keep the air
in your lungs, and as I sank I clenched my jaws, determined to stay
with the battle as long as strength lasted. After long, long periods
of struggle and fainting and renewed struggle, I saw a man, not far
off, swimming with a life-belt. I forgot to tell you that I fastened a
belt around my waist when I jumped.
"I reached my hand towards this hope of rescue, the man's belt. It
eluded me. Finally I grasped it. Then I saw how the man made the
swimming motions, like a frog. I tried to do the same. I used every
fibre and nerve to make the motions. I knew this was the chance for
life.
"Then, when my energy was going fast, I heard a faint cry. There was a
cluster of people. It was a life-boat.
"The next few moments are indistinct in my memory. Some one was
lifting me, dragging me over something hard. Now they were speaking
to me. They revived me, and I was got aboard the Storstad, the ship
that struck us.
"I can't tell you any more. The scenes on the deck, ah----"
CLIMBED UP SIDE OF LINER AS SHE KEELED OVER
A dramatic escape was related by Major Atwell of the Salvation Army,
Toronto. Major Atwell lost all his belongings in the disaster. When he
reached Montreal his clothing told of the struggle and its sequel.
Peculiarly enough, as was the case with the Titanic, the shock of the
collision was scarcely felt by a number of the passengers.
"My experience," said Major Atwell, "was that the slight shock
scarcely worried me at all. I had an idea at the time that we had
perhaps struck the tender, so slight appeared the shock. I did not
look upon it as anything serious, but my wife thought I had better get
up.
"My wife and I went on deck and we found that the vessel was listing
and the list was increasing. It was all over in a few minutes. The
list grew greater. It was so great that I could see no chance of
getting into a life-boat, even if one was launched, and I did not see
how one could be launched. So I fastened a life-belt round my wife and
put one on myself.
"As the vessel heeled over, we clung to the rail and finally clambered
over it on the side of the ship. As the boat sank, we clambered
farther and farther along the side in the direction of the keel, until
we had climbed, I think, a third of the way.
"Finally we jumped into the water and were picked up by one of the
life-boats."
HUSBAND GAVE WIFE BELT; PLUNGED OUT TO SAVE HIMSELF
Mrs. Atwell gave a graphic account of the struggle she and her
husband, Major Atwell, had in the seething waters, narrating how with
the one life-belt between them her husband chivalrously placed this
around her and himself struck out boldly into the waves.
"I was just lightly sleeping when I heard a slight crash," she said.
"We thought the ship had struck the tender or pilot boat. Then I heard
the engines start, going as hard as they could. I tried to rouse my
husband. We got up almost directly, but by that time the water was
coming in, and we climbed up on deck. My husband secured one life-belt
and placed it around me. We climbed over the rail, for the ship was
listing heavily, but we hung on to the port-hole for a few minutes,
and then I heard a slight explosion. Then the water seemed to gush up,
and my husband said 'Jump!'
"In the water I grasped my husband's clothing and held on to his back;
and there we just hung together and swam. My husband swims, but I just
kicked and struggled and held on to him, and eventually I found my
limbs very stiff, so that I had to be helped into the boat. We were
put on the Storstad for a time and then on the Lady Evelyn and put
into the cabin.
"One man who had a broken leg went insane. There was very little
screaming, and there was nothing in the way of unseemly struggles."
BOAT LISTED SO BADLY PEOPLE COULD NOT GET UP DECK STAIRS
As Adjutant McRae, of the Salvation Army, Montreal, walked down the
aisle of a sleeping car, a curtain rustled and parted.
"Oh, Adjutant! Alf! Look!"
"My boy!" came the Adjutant's earnest answer, as he reached upward to
bury one of Captain Rufus Spooner's hands in both of his, and then
turned to murmur broken words of cheer to Lieutenant Alfred Keith, who
lay in the opposite bed. Both had escaped by a hair's breadth.
"The awful thing," said Captain Spooner, "was to see the people trying
to get up the staircase. The ship had listed so far over by the time
we got up that to try to get upstairs was almost impossible. We got up
a few steps, only to fall back again. All round me were frantic men
and women, and then, before I could fairly realize where I was or what
I could do next, I seemed to be lifted right up and carried forward
off the ship into the water.
"I was rolled over and over, twisted round and round, banged against
bits of wreckage and got my foot caught in something of iron and rope.
I thought I was gone then, for I'm not a great swimmer; but I managed
to get free. I swam round till some one got me by the neck and I felt
my head going under. I thought again I was gone for certain; but I got
free the second time and started out again to try for a boat. It was a
narrow shave."
"Yes, it was," put in Lieutenant Keith, "and mine was like it."
"The third time," went on the captain, "I had sense enough not to
spend the little strength I had left, and I got hold of a spar and
rolled over on it to keep myself up. I drifted like that for a long
time till I was picked up and taken to Rimouski. All I've got left is
my bunch of keys, which stuck in my pocket." He produced them and
jingled them affectionately. "I'm going to hang on to them as a
souvenir."
PICKED UP BY BOAT FILLED WITH MEMBERS OF CREW
A member of the staff band of the Salvation Army, J. Johnson, of
Toronto, got hold of a boat as it was drifting away from the steamer
and hung to the side, and was saved in his night attire.
"We were all asleep in the second cabin when the crash came," he said.
"I went upstairs to see what had happened and the other three fellows
in the cabin stayed behind. Two of them were drowned and one got out.
When I got up on deck I found the boat listing over and I ran back and
told the others to come out.
"I saw the people struggling along the corridors to get on deck, but
it was awkward because the water was coming into the vessel.
Commissioner Rees and some others were just going along in front of me
and I assisted them up as well as I could, and eventually we got to
the deck, where I lost sight of them.
"The boat was listing so badly that I slid down to the lower end,
nearest the water, and caught hold of the rails. I saw they were
cutting away the boats, and by this time the steamer was nearly flat
on its side. They had no time to launch the life-boats, and as one
went loose I jumped over and hung on to the side, and then got in. I
hardly thought they would let me in at first, there were so many in it
already. But every one was helpful. The desire to save themselves did
not prevent the occupants of the boat from reaching out a helping hand
to others.
"When I did get in all the ropes were not quite cut, and the liner was
nearly on top of us. We seemed to be getting underneath the davits
again, and expected every moment to go under. We managed to get away
just in time, just as she was sinking, and we were only ten feet away
from the steamer when she turned over and went under. While we knew
there was no hope for us on the doomed vessel, it was a horrible sight
to see her go down.
"There was not so much suction as I thought there would be. We were
lifted up, the boat being on the top of a wave. We hung around quite a
bit to see what the other boats were doing, and then we went to the
collier.
"I think I was the only passenger in the boat. All the rest were from
the crew. I don't know why this was so, but all the people were
holding so to the higher side of the ship and when the boat was cut
free there was no one to get in her except the crew.
"We pulled two other men out of the sea--they were also members of the
crew. There were nine saved out of the staff band of thirty-nine
players. The bandmaster and his wife were drowned, but their little
girl of seven was saved."
[Illustration: IDENTIFYING THE DEAD AT QUEBEC
_Copyright by International News Service._
Salvation Army officers identifying their comrades. Many members
of the organization were on the "Empress."]
[Illustration: THE SADDEST SIGHT OF ALL
_Copyright by American Press Association._
Sailors taking the bodies of children from the "Lady Grey," one of
the government vessels.]
TORONTO WOMAN SPENT LONG TIME IN WATER BEFORE RESCUE
The highest tributes were paid by all to a brave woman who spent a
longer time in the water than almost any other of the rescued. In
telling her story, she said:
"I and my daughter were helped to the side of the ship by Bandsman
McIntyre, of the Salvation Army. We crawled to the side and as the
ship leaned over we slid over the edge of the deck into the water.
"Oh, it was cold. I began to be numbed and lost track of my daughter,
of whom I have heard no news since. I don't know how long I was in the
water; it was so cold, I had almost given up hope, when I seemed to
feel arms lifting me out. Then it seemed to get colder than ever for a
moment, and the next thing I remember I was on the collier with a
crowd of other draggled individuals. From then on, everything was done
for me, and even during the train journey up I managed to get rested
up a little."
UNKNOWN MEMBER OF CREW SAVED SEVERAL LIVES
Staff Captain McAmmond, of Toronto, relates how attempts were made by
one of the crew of the Empress to pick up survivors from the water.
Who the man was Captain McAmmond did not know, but he evidently saved
several lives.
"As the Empress went down," said he, "I clung to the taffrail and hung
over the vessel's stern. As she sank, I was dragged down into the
water, but was immediately forced up again. Down I went again; again,
I came up. Finally I managed to swim clear and succeeded in reaching
an overturned life-boat.
"There were several such. A man was already clinging to the boat and
he helped me to get a firm hold. We floated along with the boat until
we reached another. Holding to this we found a member of the crew. It
was a collapsible boat and under his instruction we were able to get
it righted and use the oars.
"It was terribly cold in the water. Some of the people we assisted
were so numbed that it was only with the greatest difficulty we
succeeded in saving them."
OTTAWA MAN PUT WIFE IN BOAT; WAS SAVED LATER
"Thank God I saved my wife; for myself I am not anxious," said John W.
Black, of Ottawa, when he painfully limped across the platform of the
Grand Trunk station, carrying a little paper bundle--all his
belongings--under his arm. His left leg was badly lacerated and he had
much difficulty in walking to St. James Street, where a cab took him
and his wife to the Windsor station for the first train to Ottawa.
Mrs. Black was cheerful and smiling in spite of bruises and scratches
and the terrible exposure of the water and the cold night.
And this is the story, interrupted at times, as Mr. Black told it:
"I was asleep in my bunk when I felt the terrible impact of the
collision. At first I thought it must be an evil dream and I saw
visions of doomsday. But, looking out through the skylight, I saw
frantic seamen rushing to the ship's side, sliding down and, as often
as not, being dashed head first into the sea. The Empress of Ireland
was then keeling over.
"In a flash I saw that the thing had happened. Literally tearing my
wife from her berth, I dashed onto the deck, and we both slid down the
deck and were projected into the water. Then followed moments that no
man could ever describe. Half drunk as I was with sleep, the sudden
and terrible awakening produced an indescribable effect on me. For a
moment I saw nothing but dirty gray. I struggled wildly for the
surface, and the time seemed like years.
"As soon as I got to the surface I saw my wife struggling beside me.
Right at our side was a deserted life-boat which must have broken from
its davits. I managed to push my wife into it, but was unable to
follow myself. So I shouted to my wife to sit tight, and that I would
swim until I was picked up.
"The last life-boat was only a few yards away from me, passing by the
side of the sinking Empress, when suddenly a huge, heavy
superstructure broke from the steamer's side, falling with a terrible
crash into the boat. I shut my eyes in horror. When I looked up again
all that was left of the life-boat and her forty-five occupants were a
few stumps of wreckage. Poor people, they had gone to their doom!
Fortunately death was sudden and merciful.
"A few minutes afterwards I was picked up by one of the boats from the
Storstad. I cannot express the joy and relief I felt when I saw my
wife half seated, half lying in the boat. She was not badly hurt,
however, and we soon were crying in each other's arms.
"The men of the Storstad treated us well the little time we remained
on her. Not long after the rescue we were taken aboard the Government
vessel Lady Evelyn.
"At Rimouski we were treated and helped in every possible way by Mayor
Fiset of Rimouski. He did all that could be done to help us."
SAW COLLISION; EMPRESS WAS SOUNDING HER SIREN
A steerage passenger, John Fowler, was one of the few who actually saw
the collision between the Empress and the Storstad. Fowler was from
Vancouver, and immediately on arriving at Quebec rushed off to catch
another train.
"I actually saw the Storstad approaching the Empress," Fowler
affirmed.
"Was there any fog at the time?" he was asked.
"Yes," he replied, "there was fog, but it was not very thick."
"Did you notice whether the Empress had her siren going?"
"Yes, she had," was the reply, "I noticed it just before the
collision."
"The shock," Mr. Fowler continued, "did not seem to be at all severe.
I just felt it and had no idea the result had been so serious.
"The water came into our port-hole, and reached above my shoulders
before I could shut it. By that time the ship was heeling over so
badly that it was difficult to get out. I heard the siren blowing a
great deal, and got up to look out to see whether we were passing
another vessel or were whistling for a pilot. I had just got my head
out through the hole when the collier drove right into us just beyond
me. And then we gradually went over to one side.
FELL INTO WATER
"I tried to quiet the people when I got out," continued Fowler, "by
telling them that it was all right, and that the boat would right
herself. I saw a lady with two children, a small baby and one little
girl of six, and I put on them a life-belt each, which I grabbed from
the spare ones by the side of the stairs. I took them on deck and in a
kind of panic we lost each other and I don't know if any of them were
saved. Every one was struggling to get on deck, and if I had not had
strength I could not have got away. I climbed up to the second saloon
deck and went along there and saw Miss Wilmot struggling to get up the
steps. She could not do so, as the boat was listing so badly and there
was a lot of water in the passage, into which she fell back.
"The ship was so much to one side that you could walk on her plates as
on a floor."
MONTREAL MAN SAW NO LIFE-BELTS
"When the boat commenced to slide over I looked for a life-preserver,
but found that some one had taken every one of them from the promenade
deck. So I went back to my cabin and took the life-preserver on the
top of the wardrobe. The majority of passengers did not seem to know
that there were life-preservers in their cabins, and although they
were easily accessible they were not conspicuous and many could not
find them in the confusion, although they looked."
Thus did Lionel Kent, of Montreal, tell of the sinking of the Empress:
"I was in Cabin 41, which was aft on the promenade deck, and my
traveling companion was Mr. Gosselin. He woke me about an hour after I
had retired and told me there had been a collision. I did not feel it
at all. I went on deck at once in my night attire and my bathrobe, and
I saw the two boats just drifting apart. At that time there were no
lights on the deck, and very few people were about, but they soon
began to appear.
"I remained on the port side of the boat as the list continued until
the starboard side was under water. Then I jumped into the water with
many other people, and was picked up ten minutes later by one of the
life-boats. Those in her, numbering about thirty, were mostly members
of the crew, with four or five women.
"The boats on the port side of the liner could not be launched
because, owing to the list of the ship, they swung inwards on the
davits instead of out over the sea. The only boats that could be
launched were those on the starboard side.
"I think a good many people were injured by the sliding of the port
life-boat when it was released, for it slid along the deck to the
starboard side and crushed many people against the railings.
"I think they did marvelously well considering the short time they
had to work in. They could not get a foothold on the sloping deck, and
there was very little confusion under the circumstances."