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Crippling Loss to Salvation Army

JOY OF FAREWELL SERVICE TURNED TO GRIEF—SCENES AT HEADQUARTERS AS SAD NEWS CAME—REUNIONS THAT FAILED—HEARTBREAKING RETURN OF THE FEW—REVERENT CROWDS WAITING—ENSIGN PUGMIRE’S STORY—STORY OF BANDSMAN GREEN—“IN GOD’S HANDS”—REDEDICATION TO WORK—SALVATIONISTS BRAVE TO THE END—MAJOR ATWELL’S EXPERIENCE—SUNDAY SERVICES IN TORONTO—FLOWER OF ARMY AMONG THE LOST—HUNDREDS SAIL ON OLYMPIC—LOSS TO ARMY IN CANADA

On the night before the Empress of Ireland sailed for the last time from Quebec a thousand people thronged the body of the spacious hall in the Salvation Army Temple in Toronto. Before them, ranged in tiers on the platform, sat almost a hundred men and women, their hearts beating high with the supreme happiness of meeting loved ones in the homeland. They were the envied of all. Not a soul of the thousand friends but wished himself in their place, but longed to join them on their trip to the International Congress in London.

The service was arranged as a farewell—for a short space. And none dreamed that the chasm of eternity yawned between the last sad parting and a meeting that will never take place on this side of the grave. That little uniformed band had done their work; Toronto would know them no more.

“God be with you till we meet again,” sang the throng of spectators, and the Staff and Temple Bands tuned their instruments to the refrain. As the strains of the solemn melody died away, the last note was sounded that man will ever hear played by those devoted men.

Scenes at Headquarters as Sad News Came

Another crowd thronged the Temple two days later—an anxious, fear-haunted crowd, awed into an ominous silence by the dreadful news of the loss of the Empress of Ireland. Round the doors the press of men and women blocked the street, each anxious to catch a glimpse of the bulletins posted up every few minutes.

Colonel Rees, who was temporarily head of the Army in Canada, paced the room with hasty steps. His eyes were dim with tears, and his voice trembled slightly as he said, “This suspense is the worst of all. We can only wait and pray till the news comes.” The other officers were holding themselves well in hand, but the atmosphere was one of tense anxiety and unrelieved strain.

“It is terrible; we are almost driven distracted,” declared Major McGillivray, who was left in charge of the immigration department. “It does not seem possible that it can be true. All our best men in the Dominion were on board that vessel, and it does not seem possible that they can be drowned.”

At first the messages delivered to the waiting crowd were hopeful; then one came saying that all the passengers were saved. As its purport became known a wave of combined relief and thankfulness swept the crowds. A sigh went up, a sigh which breathed aloud the inward, pent-up feelings of the palpitating hearts of men and women. Many sank on their knees and with bared heads poured out their thanks to God.

But the report was only the preliminary to a more cruel blow, for scarcely had they risen to their feet when the crushing news of the loss of nearly the whole ship’s complement stared at them from the bulletin boards.

Inside the building deeper feelings were stirred. There sat those whose nearest and dearest lay sunk in a watery grave. Dry-eyed, silent, hoping against hope, they sat—young, fresh maidens, round whose grief-stricken faces the Army bonnet threw a shadow of gathering sadness, young men, buoyed up only by physical strength, and old men with drawn faces and aureoles of snow-white hair. Silent as ghosts, the stream of humanity, picking its way around them, passed unnoticed.

Reunions That Failed

One of the saddest features of the wreck and its dreadful loss is the number of men and women, separated from their family for many years, who sailed in the confident hope of uniting long-broken family ties.

Other shattered ties swelled the burden of grief. Commander David M. Rees, with his wife, two daughters, and son perished with over one hundred others—the very flower of the Salvation Army in Canada.

One sobbing girl said the most distressing thing to her was the number lost who were looking forward to seeing their parents. “They left them years ago,” she said, “to work in Canada, and just when their reunion seemed assured death severed them forever.”

Two newly married couples belonging to the Salvation Army were on the Empress of Ireland. They were Captain and Mrs. E. J. Dodd and Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Greenaway, all of Toronto.

“It is a horrible honeymoon,” said a Salvation Army officer as the list of the Army people on board was eagerly scanned at the Army headquarters.

Heartbreaking Return of the Few

A small group of survivors, including Major and Mrs. Atwell, Staff Captain McAmmond, and Ensign Pugmire, reached Toronto on Saturday. When seen by a party of reporters who met the train at Atha Road Station, twenty-five miles east of the city, some of the party were just finishing dinner, others were sitting about in listless attitudes, while evidences of their recent terrible experiences were clearly marked on the faces of all.

They were met at Locust Hill Station by some of their friends, and it was then that deep emotion stirred the little band. A silent handclasp was all the greeting that passed between survivors and friends for some moments; then came a half-whispered inquiry about some friend, often receiving for reply only a wistful shake of the head.

Mr. Aldridge, whose brother, Mr. Ernest Aldridge, was lost, speaking to Major George Atwell, asked in a low voice, “Did you see Ernie?”

“I never saw him,” replied Major Atwell.

The bereaved brother, without a word, turned aside to hide the strong emotion that the simple words aroused in him. Similar scenes took place in various parts of the car, until gradually a natural conversation about the wreck was in progress.

Reverent Crowds Waiting

An enormous crowd surrounded the Union Station long before the train arrived, those who were unable to gain admission crowding the streets outside and lining the sidewalks along Front Street. The platforms swarmed with hundreds of friends of the returning Salvationists and others, the Army uniform dotting the crowd here and there.

When the train drew up, a feeble cheer, dying almost as soon as it began, was heard, and then a hush fell on all, unbroken till the first survivor appeared on the steps. One by one the little band stepped down, to be instantly surrounded by friends and relatives.

The meeting was a profoundly touching one. Hardly a word was spoken, for the sight of familiar faces revived too keenly the memory of those who stood on the same spot but a few days before. Little groups of Army girls moved about, many of them weeping silently.

Just before the survivors walked out, the crowd parted to make way for the truck bearing a dead body. As it passed, the entire body of Salvationists uncovered and sang the hymn “O God, Our Help in Ages Past.” The effect on the listening spectators was marked by the hush which followed.

Several automobiles were in waiting outside and the survivors were quickly placed in these and driven off.

Ensign Pugmire’s Story

Ensign Pugmire, connected with the financial department in Toronto, calmly told the tale of his survival to the tearful friends who asked for last tidings of their beloved Commissioner Rees. In describing his impressions more in detail, Ensign Pugmire said that there was no shock at the time of the collision.

“I heard a grazing sound as if we were touching a berg,” he said, “and as the sound continued I went up on deck, curious to see what was wrong. I never got back to my cabin. The life belts were all there. The ship was already listing over dangerously. It was all the work of a moment.

“Yes, there were a number of passengers on deck with me at the time, but when I looked over my shoulder as I grabbed the rail, I could see the gangways jammed with people. I passed Major Simcoe’s berth going up and asked her if she was not coming. She told me to leave her and find out what the matter was. Her body was among the first picked up on shore.

“Shouting? None at all. Every one was orderly and quiet. No one had time to realize what was going on. We could not launch the boats because we could hardly stand up, so heavy did the list become. We had to take the side, and only the swimmers like myself are left of those who went over with me.

“I saw Commissioner Rees when he ran back to get his wife. Major Frank Morris tried hard to save him, for he carried him on his shoulders as long as he could. Morris was a hero.

“There was an explosion just as the ship went down, and that must have killed hundreds outright. The shock of it blew Morris right overboard. Morris’s arm was badly scalded with the steam.

“We saw the ship heeling over when we were in the water, but there was no outcry until she had disappeared. The swimmers then shouted to attract the lifeboat that was already coming. My comrades died like Salvationists.”

Story of Bandsman Green

The satisfaction of Bandsman Green of the Salvation Army in finding himself alive and without a scratch was darkly clouded by the loss of his father, Adjutant Green, his mother, and his sister Jessie.

“It was not a great blow we felt,” he volunteered. “Just a little jar. You could not say that it was severe, not enough to throw you against the side of your bunk, for instance. But we guessed when the engines stopped and then began to go again fast, that something had happened. I tell you that to get out was like climbing up a straight wall, the Empress listed so.

“And then, when she sank, I could think of nothing but a village suddenly flooded and all the people floating in the water. It was awful to see those faces bobbing up and down with the ship gone underneath and only water.

“But a wonderful thing happened. You know it is not light at that time in the morning, and when we were thrown out it was quite dark. But all of a sudden it got light very quickly and we could see well. That was wonderful!” The voice softened into reverence. “Like Providence, as I don’t believe it usually gets light as early.

“In God’s Hands”

“When I last saw my father, he said, ‘Well, boy, we are in God’s hands’; and I said, ‘Yes, Father.’ In a second I was parted from all forever. They were all standing together, my father and my mother and my sister Jessie.

“I must say that all, or nearly all, the men behaved like men and all the women like women.”

“Was there great panic?” he was asked.

“No,” he replied. “It was surprising how little panic there was. They were all so gritty. You saw men and their wives being saved together, or standing to die together. Many did not part. And the Salvationists stood up and sang ‘God Be with You till We Meet Again,’ as long as they could. I did see one man in the water try to push into a lifeboat ahead of a woman, but another struck him in the face and sent him back. I did hear, too, that there were other cases of this kind, but not many, and I didn’t see them. The only real panic was among the foreigners. Most of the others were very calm.”

Hymn the Salvationists Sang While the Empress of Ireland Was Sinking