8

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 broken only 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 tiptoe, 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 Lévis 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, pocketbooks 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 Jolicoeur 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 someone 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 their bruised and mutilated condition.

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.”