SHIP OF DEATH REACHES QUEBEC
THE GHASTLY CARGO -- ESCORTED BY BRITISH CRUISER ESSEX -- SMALL
WHITE COFFINS -- PATHETIC SEARCH FOR RELATIVES AND FRIENDS --
WRETCHED CONDITION OF BODIES -- LOST HIS ENTIRE FAMILY -- TWO
CLAIM SAME BABY -- "JUDGMENT OF SOLOMON" -- BODIES BRUISED AND
MUTILATED
IN the full sunlight of a perfect summer day, with church bells
chiming and people trooping to early Mass, the Government steamer Lady
Grey slowly steamed into Quebec Sunday morning with the most ghastly
cargo ever brought to that port--188 coffined corpses of the victims
from the Empress of Ireland wreck.
In spite of every effort sufficient coffins could not be secured at
Rimouski, and a score or more victims had to be brought in hastily
constructed wooden boxes. The Lady Grey looked like a lumber vessel
with a heavy deck load, every inch of deck space being covered with
coffins of all sorts piled three and four deep.
ESCORTED BY BRITISH CRUISER ESSEX
On her melancholy journey the Lady Grey was escorted by the British
cruiser Essex, which had been cruising 348 miles below Quebec, and
received a wireless order from the Admiralty to make all speed to the
scene of the collision and render every possible assistance.
The Lady Grey at five minutes past eight proceeded to pier No. 27,
where the huge shed was transformed into a mortuary chamber. The
entrance was draped with black and purple, while inside three long
counters had been constructed to accommodate the bodies.
As the Lady Grey drew up with the Union Jack half-masted at the stern,
her bulwarks were lined with a hundred blue-jackets and marines from
the Essex, under Commander Tweedie, who had been detailed to remove
the coffins from the death ship. This was most fortunate, for the
British seamen not only lent the necessary touch of dignity to the
scene, as without a word and scarcely a sound they carried the
dreadfully long row of bodies ashore, but they did the work with most
impressive skill. The men were evidently weighted with this terrible
illustration of the dangers of the sea, and worked with solemn
intentness during the long hour and a quarter it took to get the dread
cargo from the Lady Grey.
Inside all was gloom, tears and death, while outside the sun shone
gloriously as the marines continued at their task, the silence only
broken by the busy clicking of moving-picture machines and the
snapping of many cameras. The arrival of the corpse-laden vessel had
driven home the whole horror of the catastrophe, and people moved
around on tiptoes, talking in hushed whispers as the place became more
and more populous with its load of coffins.
SMALL WHITE COFFINS
When a group of marines passed by, each carrying a tiny white coffin,
the strain became too much, and many men were moved to tears, while
the few women present were openly crying. One little coffin opened,
disclosing a beautiful baby girl of about four, with golden curls
clustering around her ears, looking as though happily asleep--stark
naked. Even hardened newspapermen were overcome at the sight.
Dead silence reigned as the slow minutes went by, each recording the
advent of the marines' load of horror, until the long counters were
filled and the last score of bodies had to be laid on the floor.
PATHETIC SEARCH FOR RELATIVES AND FRIENDS
At the heads of the lines of coffins stood anxious men and women, many
of them survivors, looking for relatives and friends. Each coffin lid
was lifted by one of the searchers while others crowded close to get a
glimpse at the body inside. The line moved constantly. One lid would
be dropped with a low toned "No" and the searcher would raise the lid
of the next coffin, just dropped by the person ahead.
Occasionally a low moan of a man or the muffled scream of a woman
broke the silence. "Oh, Mary!" "My husband!" or some name of
endearment was uttered.
One particularly pathetic figure was an elderly Australian named
Byrne, who had after years of saving started out with his wife and
daughter on a tour of the world. He had been saved, but both wife and
daughter had met their death. He seemed too overcome even to realize
his loss, and rambled about, aimlessly looking at the tagged numbers
on the coffins and muttering: "Would to God I had gone with them."
Their bodies were not found in the list.
Another old man sat beside the coffins silently weeping, and asked all
he met if they would not get him a newspaper so that he might find
what had become of his family.
WRETCHED CONDITION OF BODIES
Some few of the bodies had been prepared for burial at Rimouski, but
so great was the work that most of them had to be put in the coffins
as they were found, the women in shreds of clothing, some absolutely
naked, as were most of the children, with anything available wrapped
over them, while most of the men were in trousers and undershirts.
Every undertaker in Quebec and Point Levis had been engaged by the
Canadian Pacific Railroad with instructions to embalm all the bodies
and prepare them for burial. Each body was also photographed for its
identification.
Many of the coffins were of the crudest make; some had this
inscription: "Ne pleurez pas sur moi!" (Do not shed tears over me),
but as the sailors arranged the coffins and the marines took their
station tears were visible in the eyes of many. Coffin No. 1 had a
card bearing these words: "Woman on bottom, baby on top." There were
two in the coffin. The only other writing on the boxes were words
indicating that within were "fille," "fils," "femme" or "homme." With
the bodies were in some instances the articles found on them, such as
watches, pocket-books containing money, letters or other things that
might help in the identification.
Solemnly the search continued. A man would find the bodies of his wife
and children. A woman would identify the body of her husband. In the
hunt for bodies of the victims there was no distinction of class.
Every person, whether finely dressed or roughly clad, took his turn in
the line that moved constantly from coffin to coffin. The great
majority of persons, however, were disappointed in their search.
LOST HIS ENTIRE FAMILY
At times a frantic man would hurry from coffin to coffin looking over
the shoulders of persons near it and trying to satisfy himself by a
quick glance that the body was not that of the loved one--most of the
bodies were so marred that quick identification was impossible--and
then dash to the next. The most pathetic is the experience of C. W.
Cullen, a candy merchant of Montreal, who had sent his wife, two
children and a maid, Jennie Blythe, on the Empress of Ireland for a
summer trip to England. The maid alone survived.
Cullen ran from one coffin to another looking for his wife, but in
vain. Then he turned to gaze on the coffins of children. He quickly
found the body of his daughter, Maude, six years old, who in the
excitement following the collision had been seized by the mother. The
search among the babies ranging from twelve months to three years then
went on. Some of the babies lying in the coffins looked as if they
were asleep, with their hair curled or ruffled by a light breeze.
Others had bruised foreheads, suggesting vividly how they had been
hurtled against stanchions or the sides of their cabins and killed
before the water came upon them. The legs and arms of others were cut
and bruised terribly. Upon the little ones Cullen gazed and finally
picked out one baby with blond hair. He turned to Canon Scott, rector
of St. Matthew's Episcopal Church, and said:
"That is my boy." Then Cullen turned again to search through the
bodies of the adults for his wife.
TWO CLAIM SAME BABY
Scarcely had he turned away when T. H. Archer, who had lost wife and
baby in the wreck and had escaped himself, began to study the faces of
the babies. He had found the body of a woman that he supposed to be
his wife. He came upon the body of a child marked No. 118, which had
been identified only a few minutes before by Cullen as the body of his
baby. Archer insisted that the body was that of his baby Alfred. He
was told that Cullen had decided that the boy was his own child.
The two men were brought together by Canon Scott. Both were gracious
and affable and both consented to study the features of the face
again. A police officer lifted up the coffin in his arms and held it
while the two men scanned the face of the child. Cullen decided he
would go and get the maid. He disappeared. Then Archer asked the
officer to carry the baby to a window, where he looked again at the
face of the baby. He wanted to see the knee of the baby, but that was
so bruised and discolored that the little knee proved no help. He
insisted, however, that the baby was his and accompanied by the
clergyman he took it back to Coroner G. Will Jolicœur and had the
child registered as his. Canon Scott, feeling that there might be a
mistake, counseled the man to make a study of the features of his wife
and compare them with those of the child. Archer consented to do so.
While that was going on Cullen returned with the maid, who, after a
quick glance, agreed that the baby belonged to Cullen. Each bereaved
father clung to the belief that the child was his.
"JUDGMENT OF SOLOMON"
There came a deadlock and finally some one suggested that the decision
be left to Mayor Napoleon Drouin of Quebec. The mayor was called and
each father presented what he considered proof that the child belonged
to him. The mayor, however, after a study of the features of Mrs.
Archer and those of the child, decided that the baby was not the
Archer child, and he finally awarded the baby to Cullen.
While the controversy between Cullen and Archer was going on a woman
attired in clothes of coarse texture wandered past the bodies of the
children, stopping to lift up the coffin lids and gaze tenderly on the
little faces. She was a survivor and was looking for the baby that had
been torn from her arms.
One child with dark hair and features of a cherub, bearing many
bruises, attracted her attention. She believed the baby was hers, but
she was not sure. "My child," she said, "has one tooth on the right
side." Bending over she reverently opened the mouth of the tot and
then a moan escaped her. "It's mine," she whispered, and untied a
black baby ribbon that ran around the neck. Weeping she was helped to
the office of the coroner, where she obtained a burial certificate and
received permission to have the body shipped to her home.
BODIES BRUISED AND MUTILATED
Many similar tragic incidents were enacted in the course of the day,
and by nightfall there were twelve other bodies of which
identifications were made but of which the relatives were not sure
because of the bruised and mutilated condition of the bodies.
A glance at the corpses taken in a walk along the line revealed the
story of the collision and the incidents following. Almost all bore
marks of violence inflicted by contact with parts of the wrecked ship
or in struggles in the water. There were bodies of women whose heads
were split open or gashed. It is possible that women running from
their staterooms in the darkness following the collision ran against
stanchions or were hurled against the walls of the sides of the
corridors. The wounds also indicated that some of the women had been
crushed when the collier buried her steel nose in the side of the
Empress.
Officials in Rimouski have said also that the bodies of the women
showed that several of them had been stabbed, that bodies of men had
been found with knives in their hands. At any rate, it was apparent by
a glance at the shrouds that had been placed on the bodies of both
men and women that there were other wounds not disclosed on the faces.
In addition to the bodies received in Quebec, a number had been
identified at Rimouski and shipped to the homes of relatives. If the
Empress is raised many other bodies trapped in their staterooms will
probably be obtained.
The bodies which were not identified in Quebec on Sunday were embalmed
and kept for a few days longer. Then they were photographed by
representatives of the Canadian Pacific and buried in graves marked
"unknown."