CHAPTER XVIII
WHY IT HAPPENED

THERE IS AN OLD SAYING THAT A SHIP’S CAPTAIN MUST STAY WELL ahead of his or her ship. As large ships require great distances to speed up, slow down, or turn, maritime accidents can take many long minutes to unfold—unlike the split seconds of a car accident. The stopping distance for a modern merchantman, which fully laden can weigh hundreds of thousands of tonnes, is measured in nautical miles. On that fateful morning in Halifax harbour, the two skilled captains, with experienced local pilots beside them, would have been doing everything possible to stay well ahead of their ships. This meant determining the other captain’s intentions as early as possible.

When they first saw each other, they were at least a nautical mile apart—that is, at least 1852 metres, or nearly two kilometres. Given their combined closing speed—the total of their two respective speeds—was somewhere between 8 and 12 knots, they would meet in 7.5 minutes or less. With IMO’s gross tonnage at 5043 tonnes, and Mont-Blanc’s combined tonnage and cargo approaching 6000 tonnes, decisions had to be made soon, or the laws of physics would take over. If something did go wrong, given their obligations to do everything possible to avoid a collision, the captains would be prepared for emergency manoeuvers, such as reversing engines or dropping anchor. But these options were not fail-safe.

As both vessels had right-hand propellers, meaning they turned clockwise when in forward, reversing their engines would cause their bows to swing to starboard due to transverse thrust—the sides of propellers act like paddle wheels and generate a sideways force. The slower the speed, the greater the sideways force. The opposite would happen with the engines in forward—their bows would swing to port. And, due to forward momentum, dropping anchor can cause a ship to swing sideways when the anchor grabs the bottom. This is not an ideal option in a narrow channel: the vessel could hit bottom or swing into an obstacle, including another ship. With his volatile cargo, Mont-Blanc’s captain certainly did not want to take any such chances.

Weather and sea conditions are often a factor in maritime accidents. But that morning in Halifax harbour it was a bright and sunny winter’s day with a light breeze. Almost everyone burned coal for heat or power, so it was normal in the morning to see patches of haze drifting on the channel between Halifax and Dartmouth. Despite reports of haze, most witnesses reported clearly seeing both vessels as they entered the Narrows. The tide had ebbed overnight and was starting, lightly, to flood toward Bedford Basin, so the current was negligible as IMO and Mont-Blanc came into sight of each other.

The tide, even when it reached its peak, at 11 a.m., would be running at only half a knot (about nine-tenths of a kilometre per hour). When Mont-Blanc passed Highflyer’s starboard side just below the Narrows, the anchored British warship was still facing northward, where the ebbing tide had pointed her. With the tide hitting low water, ships at anchor would begin to swing in all directions, until the incoming tide eventually swung them once again into alignment. While witnesses reported seeing both vessels, it is not evident that IMO could see Mont-Blanc clearly. IMO was heading directly into the morning sun. The sun’s glare was reflecting off the full length of the Narrows. As a result, it would have been difficult for IMO’s bridge to make out Mont-Blanc’s orientation, or to distinguish Mont-Blanc from other ships, such as Highflyer, which was anchored in mid-channel just to starboard of Mont-Blanc. Adding to this, Mont-Blanc’s heavily laden, grey-painted hull, sitting low in the water, would have been hard to discern against any patches of smoky haze.

In the adversarial tone of the Wreck Commission Inquiry, there was little interest in painting a factual picture of the morning. Efforts to establish the facts were frustrated by a host of challenges, such as problems with language and terminology. Henry was the only lawyer who spoke French. No lawyers spoke Norwegian. Many “I don’t know” answers reflected a lack of comprehension, not a lack of knowledge. Critically, a number of key witnesses were dead, including IMO’s captain and pilot and Stella Maris’s captain. Other witnesses had left Halifax without testifying. The captain of SS Clara, the ship that may have forced IMO to stay in mid-channel as she exited Bedford Basin, sailed with a convoy on 12 December without being interviewed, although her pilot, Edward Renner, did testify. Officers from Highflyer left statements about what they saw, but they were not available for cross-examination—they had sailed with a convoy.

Because of their inability to understand what was being said, the lawyers and the judge had to assume that questions and answers were being translated correctly, which was optimistic. Answering questions before an inquiry is very different from interpreting orders spoken in English on the bridge of a ship, such as, “slow,” “stop,” “reverse,” “port,” and “starboard.” (Such orders would have been reinforced with hand signals and other instructive body language.) At one point, John Johansen testified that IMO passed Clara port to port. Later, on cross-examination, Burchell brought out that Johansen meant to say “starboard to starboard.” At another point, Humphrey Mellish asked Johansen about evidence from Peter B’jonnas, IMO’s second mate. Johansen replied, “I don’t know [that] name.” Mellish’s pronunciation was so bad that Johansen did not know who he was talking about. The following exchange between Mellish and IMO’s chief engineer, Louis Skarre, underscores the discomfort of some witnesses:

  1. Q: You know that your language is Norwegian?
  2. A: Yes sir.
  3. Q: And you know English very well?
  4. A: Yes sir.
  5. Q: You can speak better in your own language?
  6. A: Yes sir.
  7. Q: You would be more free in your own language?
  8. A: Yes sir.

There were other issues. IMO’s visibility looking down the Narrows was not explored. When she entered the narrows, she was heading directly into the bright December sun, which at 8:50 a.m. that morning was close to 19 degrees above the eastern horizon. Combined with the glare on the water, the sun would have been almost blinding to those on IMO’s bridge. And if there were any patches of haze, Mont-Blanc’s grey hull would have been difficult to see. The Wreck Commission Inquiry did not seek out witnesses that might have described the visibility from IMO’s vantage point. Clara and Stella Maris were heading in the opposite direction, and though Hilford had been coming out of Bedford Basin, her captain and Lieutenant-Commander Murray were dead. John Johansen, from IMO, was not a helpful witness, and the other IMO survivors were either below deck or not paying attention when the incident occurred. IMO’s chief engineer, Louis Skarre, was in the engine room, and her third mate, Bjarne Birkland, was at breakfast. Her second mate, Peter B’jonnas, was on deck, but he was taking up the anchor and did not look up until the last second.

In addition to overlooking the importance of the sun, the inquiry never closely examined Mont-Blanc’s perspective. For example, Mont-Blanc’s captain, Aimé Le Médec, said repeatedly that he was so close to the Dartmouth shore that he could not pass between IMO and the shore. Mont-Blanc’s pilot, Francis Mackey, said the same thing. Yet, the Dartmouth shore falls off very rapidly and Mont-Blanc would have been safe even thirty-five to forty metres from the eastern shore. No one pursued IMO’s actions in detail, either. IMO’s engine-room officer testified that his final orders had been “reverse,” “stop,” then “reverse”—with several minutes’ delay between the first and second order to reverse. Given transverse thrust, IMO’s first order to reverse could have been either a course correction to starboard, using transverse thrust, or simply an effort to reduce speed as Mont-Blanc’s intentions were assessed. In short, even in trying to reach its limited objective—placing blame for the collision—the inquiry was handicapped by missing witnesses and language problems, and was less than aggressive in its attempt to gather facts.

WHISTLE-BLOWING

By contrast, those conducting the inquiry seemed determined to discover which ship whistled when. Captain Demers, dominion wreck commissioner, appeared frustrated when IMO’s third mate, Bjarne Birkland, could not answer his questions:

  1. Q: Did you hear the whistle at all in the mess room?
  2. A: I heard it blow but I didn’t pay any attention. We were sitting eating.
  3. Q: Did you notice any difference between one and two blasts?
  4. A: No we paid no attention to the whistle. We were conversing about other things.
  5. Q: When you noticed there was a whistle sounded did you notice by the vibration of the ship what speed she was going?
  6. A: No I didn’t.
  7. Q: You have not noticed much?
  8. A: I don’t know much about what happened between the time I left the forecastle head until the collision.

Demers got a little more out of IMO’s wheelman, John Johansen:

  1. Q: Did you hear one blast of Mont-Blanc?
  2. A: No sir.
  3. Q: Did you hear two blasts of Mont-Blanc?
  4. A: Yes sir.
  5. Q: Did you hear three blasts of Mont-Blanc?
  6. A: Yes sir.
  7. Q: How is it you did not notice one blast of Mont-Blanc if it was blown?
  8. A: If she blew one blast I did not notice it.
  9. Q: Why?
  10. A: Because that is her right to blow.
  11. Q: What would be the use of her blowing her signal if you don’t notice it?
  12. A: There is the pilot to notice, not me.

Edward McCrossan, the sailor on Curaca who had seen the ships collide, also testified that he paid little attention to the whistling:

  1. Q: Did you hear any signals before the collision?
  2. A: No sir, we don’t take any notice of signals there—it might be from a train.

Whistling is a routine event in harbours. Even if someone did pay attention, it would be surprising, given what happened afterward, if they could remember everything in sequence. It would also be surprising if the various accounts agreed. The witnesses were in a number of dispersed locations and sound takes time to travel. It also echoes. Different witnesses, therefore, might have different perceptions of which ship was whistling and when. By the time someone heard a whistle and looked up, it would be easy to mistake the source.

Even if it were possible to reconstruct the exact sequence of whistles, it was impossible to determine why those whistles were sounded. IMO’s whistles were blown by the pilot, William Hayes, and he was dead. IMO’s captain was also dead. Despite those problems, and despite the fact that many decades have passed since the Halifax explosion, enough evidence exists to put together a picture of what happened in the harbour on 6 December 1917. This story is easier to follow if one examines what happened first from the point of view of IMO, then from the point of view of Mont-Blanc. This makes it apparent the two captains had different perceptions of what was happening.

TWO VANTAGE POINTS

IMO had been anchored in Bedford Basin. When she raised her anchor and set out for the open sea, because she was a large ship with a long turning radius, she had to circle around the other ships at anchor as she headed out of Bedford Basin. As she entered the Narrows, she found herself to the Dartmouth side of the channel. She no doubt intended to move closer to the Halifax side where she belonged under the rules of the road, but for two reasons she was unable to do this. First, she met the incoming Clara that entered harbour ahead of Mont-Blanc. Second, she encountered the tug Stella Maris towing scows. Both Clara and Stella Maris were heading toward Bedford Basin, and both were on the Halifax side of the channel.

When IMO’s captain and pilot saw Clara, the captain signalled to her—by whistling once, and then adjusting to starboard, towards the Halifax side—indicating he wished to pass port to port. But Clara was coming up the wrong side of the channel and her pilot was intending to turn westward into the Basin, toward the preferred anchorage. So Clara’s pilot, Edward Renner, replied with two whistles, and turned to port, indicating his desire to stay close to the Halifax side, and not cross over to the Dartmouth side. Following accepted practice, IMO signalled agreement by replying with two whistles. Clara and IMO passed starboard to starboard. But this left IMO closer to the Dartmouth side—she would have swung to the Halifax side had Clara replied with one whistle, thus passing port to port. Although this mutual decision was criticized by the inquiry, it was entirely acceptable for ships to pass starboard to starboard, instead of port to port, if both agreed. The ships passed roughly 100 yards apart, close enough for Clara’s pilot, Edward Renner, to hail and inform IMO that another ship was coming up the Narrows. He was referring to Mont-Blanc. He hailed because was he knew Mont-Blanc was not yet visible to IMO. John Johansen, aboard IMO, testified that at this point he did not notice any whistles from Mont-Blanc.

After passing Clara, IMO adjusted to starboard where the channel curves southward. As the mid-Narrows Halifax shore became visible, IMO’s captain and pilot would have seen Stella Maris coming up the channel just south of the dry dock, towing two scows. Because Stella Maris was close to the Halifax shore, IMO’s captain and pilot decided to hold their course closer to the Dartmouth side. Here is where the confusion begins. The two surviving officers of Stella Maris testified they heard IMO whistle once. They quickly deduced this wasn’t intended for them—it was clear that because they were closer to the Halifax shore and IMO was in mid-channel, they were already committed to passing safely starboard to starboard. So they assumed IMO was signalling to Mont-Blanc, which they could see roughly a half a nautical mile to the south. It was in this time frame that, for reasons unknown, Captain From ordered IMO’s engines reversed. Whatever his intentions, this would slow his ship down, pull her stern to port, and force her bow to starboard toward the proper channel on the Halifax side. His next order was to stop—he never gave the order to go ahead. It is hard to conclude anything other than that the captain was looking into the sun trying to discern Mont-Blanc’s intentions and decided not to maintain or pick up speed.

Adding to the difficulty of seeing Mont-Blanc was her grey hull, which would have been obscured against any haze. If, as Frank Nickerson, second mate of Stella Maris, testified, there was no return signal from Mont-Blanc, this would have added to From’s hesitation. Even if From had heard Mont-Blanc’s first single whistle, he might have been reluctant to pick up speed until he could better determine her track. IMO’s handling characteristics might have added to his unease: she turned poorly to starboard—putting his engines in forward would actually kick his bow to port. Not only would this encroach on Mont-Blanc’s proper track through the channel, it might confuse Mont-Blanc’s captain: experienced captains always strive to make their intentions patently clear. With his bow swinging to starboard after the first order to reverse, From should have ordered his ship forward with the intention of moving toward the Halifax shore, opening up the channel for Mont-Blanc to pass to port. For some reason, he never gave that order. His next order, according to testimony from IMO’s engineering officer, was to go astern—a second time:

  1. Q: Did the next reverse order come immediately?
  2. A: It was several minutes between the two reverses.
  3. Q: When you got the second full speed astern did you get that twice?
  4. A: I got the orders repeated twice.
  5. Q: The second one?
  6. A: Yes sir.
  7. Q: Did you take any meaning from that?
  8. A: I understood there must be something wrong—I have to hurry up and get full force on.

Because he knew the harbour, From, advised by Hayes, would have known that while the channel is not very wide, the water was deep enough for Mont-Blanc to pass IMO on the Dartmouth side. He would have assumed the ships would have room to pass port to port. However, with the sun in his eyes and Mont-Blanc’s silhouette far from clear, From could not make out what Mont-Blanc was doing. Adding to his uncertainly was the silhouette of Highflyer to the right of Mont-Blanc. Farther to the right of Highflyer, Captain From would have seen a number of ships at anchor, likely swinging in various directions as the tide shifted. Possibly the only clear channel he saw ahead was to port. He too might have been considering passing Highflyer on the Dartmouth side, like Mont-Blanc, so as to swing around the many ships at anchor. Indeed, where the southern end of the Narrows ends, the channel widens toward Dartmouth. Rather than issue any further orders, From paused. (That is why there were several minutes between orders.) When he finally realized that Mont-Blanc was going to cut across his bow, he twice ordered “full reverse.” This was a desperate attempt to avoid a collision and, as it happened, was of little value. The effect of transverse thrust made it worse by swinging IMO’s bow into Mont-Blanc. The fact the second and urgent order to reverse came after a delay suggests that, up to then, From was watching Mont-Blanc, trying to figure out what she was up to, but assuming she would keep to starboard (his port) as IMO shifted toward the Halifax shore and into the starboard channel.

It is possible—as some witnesses testified, and as the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council concluded—that IMO was going a bit too fast when she left Bedford Basin. If so, that was the captain’s only error. IMO had twice conceded her proper channel to other vessels, which was accepted practice when both vessels agreed—if not by whistles, Stella Maris signalled her agreement by maintaining her course up the Halifax side. IMO had then reversed her propeller, to swing the ship to starboard, so she could set her proper course along the Halifax side of the channel. However, because the captain and pilot were uncertain of Mont-Blanc’s intentions, From had then signalled for a full stop. When he realized Mont-Blanc was cutting across IMO’s track, From urgently signalled his engine room for more speed in reverse and whistled three times to indicate what he was doing.

Mont-Blanc had entered harbour that morning with her captain and crew feeling relaxed after some tense days at sea. As was proper, Mont-Blanc moved along fairly slowly—she did not have much speed anyway—and kept to the Dartmouth side of the channel. As she passed the Dartmouth ferries, she speeded up a little. Everyone on board was very conscious that the ship carried a volatile cargo, and no one wanted a collision. (It was a reasonable concern. Over the next ten days, Dartmouth ferries collided with a bridge, the ferry dock, and a patrol boat.) As Mont-Blanc passed between Highflyer and Dartmouth and began to enter the narrowest part of the channel, her pilot, Francis Mackey, spotted a ship coming out of Bedford Basin. Mackey first saw IMO’s masts over the land on the westward side of the channel, where it curves southward. Le Médec said that he saw IMO fine on his port bow as she cleared the land on the west. Witnesses said they could clearly see “Belgian Relief” painted on IMO’s starboard side, indicating she became visible in the channel before she adjusted to starboard, at which point her bow would become prominent.

Shortly after spotting IMO, Le Médec, confirmed by Mackey, said he blew Mont-Blanc’s whistle once to signal his intention to stay on the right side of the channel to pass IMO port to port, as was proper. Given that IMO was still more than a nautical mile away, this was a very early whistle—IMO had yet to pass Stella Maris. That Stella Maris’s captain did not recall a whistle from Mont-Blanc may be an indication of how early Mont-Blanc signalled. In any event, Le Médec immediately heard a two-whistle reply:

  1. Q: How long after he gave the signal on his whistle did he get any signal from IMO?
  2. A: Almost instantly. A few seconds.

This was confirmed by Mackey. In reply, Le Médec whistled once, repeating his intent to stay to starboard. He and Mackey said they again heard a two-whistle reply. Twice Le Médec had signalled that he intended to maintain his course to starboard, as was correct under the rules of the road, and twice another ship had challenged his intentions. Having already adjusted to starboard as far as he was comfortable—Le Médec was not experienced with the channel—he decided urgent action was required. He ordered his ship to port, hoping he could pass IMO starboard to starboard. Whether Mackey attempted to advise the captain there was still safe water to starboard, or if he too felt an urgent swing to port was essential, is unknown. In the end, Mackey tactfully testified that Mont-Blanc’s orders were given by her captain:

  1. Q: At some time the captain himself took command of the ship from the pilot?
  2. A: At all times, the captain is master aboard his ship. He receives advice from the pilot and he has that advice executed, and in no case does he give the command to anyone else.

As Le Médec ordered the change in course, he pulled the steam whistle twice to indicate what he was doing. He was confounded when the oncoming ship whistled three times—a signal that IMO was reversing engines, which due to transverse thrust drove her bow directly into Mont-Blanc’s side. (Le Médec and his pilot both testified that they tried to swing their ship once a collision was inevitable, to minimize the chance of an explosion.) Mont-Blanc, in other words, had come into harbour on the proper side of the channel, had whistled to let outbound vessels know what she was doing, and had made a desperate attempt to avoid a collision when it became clear she was being refused the right of way.

CONFUSION IN BOTH SHIPS

The evidence suggests that the captains and pilots of both ships misread the intended actions of the other. The fact IMO was heading directly into the glare of the morning sun—and may not at first have been able to see Mont-Blanc clearly enough to discern her bearing and course—may have contributed to the confusion. If the evidence of Stella Maris is accepted, IMO whistled once to signal her intention to stay to starboard of Mont-Blanc. As From never ordered his engines forward, this indicates three things: he was comfortable with his mid-channel track and judged that Mont-Blanc had plenty of sea room to either port or starboard of IMO; he recognized that if he ordered his engine forward this would push his bow to port, thereby encroaching on Mont-Blanc’s intended track up the Dartmouth side and possibly confusing Mont-Blanc’s captain at the same time; and he knew his long, narrow ship did not turn readily, so holding a steady course up mid-channel was his best option.

Photograph of the SS IMO steamship post explosion. It is washed out near the shores of Dartmouth. The ship is slanted to the left.

FIGURE 18.1 | SS IMO, after the explosion, beached on the Dartmouth shore with sentries nearby. “Belgian Relief” marking is clearly visible on her side. Nova Scotia Archives, MP207.1.184/270.

Mont-Blanc, by contrast, was waiting for IMO to shift toward the Halifax side, both as a clear sign of her captain’s intentions and to give Mont-Blanc more space in the constricted Narrows. As this was Le Médec’s first time entering Halifax harbour, he may have been uncomfortable moving too close to the Dartmouth shore. When IMO stood on in mid-channel, Le Médec, thinking he might ground his ship, made the last-minute decision to veer toward the Halifax shore so as to pass IMO starboard to starboard. Judging that a collision was inevitable, From reversed his engines, throwing his bow to starboard and into the bow of the veering Mont-Blanc.

When interpreted as above, the actions of both captains are understandable:

The collision that led to the explosion was, in other words, the result of genuine confusion—a misunderstanding by the captain and pilot on the bridge of Mont-Blanc. That confusion was not cleared up because the people from IMO were dead and never had a chance to tell their story. It was also caused in part because the decisions on the bridge of Mont-Blanc were made by her captain, who did not know the harbour, rather than by the pilot, who did.

The inquiry had the evidence it needed to figure out what happened. It heard from two witnesses that the Clara and IMO exchanged signals. It heard that IMO whistled as it passed Stella Maris, though the tug’s second mate said his captain assumed the whistle was not for his boat. (There was no way they could have known that.) It heard testimony from Mont-Blanc that IMO had whistled at her three times (two two-whistle blasts, one three-whistle blast). But if that testimony was accurate, IMO would have had to whistle seven times in all: twice for Clara, twice for Stella Maris, three times for Mont-Blanc. That did not happen and no one at the inquiry suggested it did. Clearly, some of the whistles Mont-Blanc heard were not intended for her. That should have been enough to let the inquiry figure out what happened.

At a conference at St. Mary’s University on the seventy-fifth anniversary of the explosion, Robert Power, from the Atlantic Pilotage Authority, analyzed what happened. He stated explicitly that IMO’s first movement astern was to change course, not to evade Mont-Blanc. Though he did not say this, the implication is clear: at that point, IMO had not seen Mont-Blanc: “Therefore, the astern movement IMO made at this point … was not an effort to avoid the collision which followed…. It is my opinion that the first astern movement made at the turn of the Narrows was for the purpose of altering the course of the vessel.” Power supports his argument with evidence from IMO’s engine room: “The chief engineer testified that the last three movements they received in the engine room were for full astern—then stop—then, after some minutes, full astern. The second full astern movement was shorter than the first and was repeated. The repeat of that movement would have indicated to the engine room that the situation was urgent and that the full power of the engine should be applied.”

Why did not Mont-Blanc reverse her engines and come to a stop when her captain saw a ship in his path? Perhaps Captain Le Médec was reluctant to do so because he was new to the ship and was uncertain what would happen if he did. Asked what would have happened had he done so, Le Médec said he did not know:

  1. Q: How long would you have had to reverse your engines before it had any effect on the ship?
  2. A: I never did it before and I don’t know, it was my first journey on that ship.

When asked a similar question, Mont-Blanc’s pilot, Francis Mackey, said Mont-Blanc’s stern would have swung to starboard, increasing the chances of a collision. Mackey understood what would have happened, but Le Médec was ill at ease both with Mont-Blanc and with Halifax harbour.

The real story of what happened, then, is this: IMO came out of Bedford Basin intending to head along the Halifax side of the channel. She was forced to remain on the Dartmouth side of mid-channel because of other traffic, first an American ship, Clara, then the tug, Stella Maris. When that traffic had passed, she reversed engines, adjusting her bow to starboard. She was trying to get over to the Halifax side of the channel. Mont-Blanc, seeing IMO on her side of the channel, whistled on two separate occasions for her to get out of the way. She heard a two-whistle answer to each of her signals, an answer that, to her, meant IMO was refusing to concede right of way. Mont-Blanc was not aware those signals were actually an acknowledgment of signals from the American ship and a polite indication to Stella Maris that her course was acceptable—and not intended for Mont-Blanc. Convinced that IMO would not move, Mont-Blanc changed course—unaware that IMO had reversed engines. The collision was a genuine accident caused by a misunderstanding. It was a breakdown in communication, something all too common in major accidents.

There was one other factor involved: the fact that Mont-Blanc’s captain did not realize he had enough clearance to pass IMO port to port. The inquiry never looked at that. Once again, the blame falls on the captain of Mont-Blanc. Despite all his biases, Judge Drysdale was probably correct in assigning the blame to Mont-Blanc.

BRITISH AT FAULT

Although Mont-Blanc caused the collision, because Le Médec misunderstood both what he was hearing and how much clearance he had—and because he did not stop earlier—the real problem in Halifax did not stem from the fact that two ships had collided. That point was made earlier in Chapter III: “Edward McCrossan, the sailor on Curaca who watched it happen, was so little interested that he went below for a smoke. The signalman on the Niobe told the first officer, Allan Baddeley, the same thing. The Master of Arms on Niobe commented, ‘I’d seen vessels collide before. This one seemed no different.’” The same point was made by two of Canada’s Supreme Court judges when they distinguished between the collision—which was what the inquiry and the subsequent legal actions were about—and the explosion, which they saw, correctly, as unrelated.

The real problem in Halifax was not that two ships had collided, but that one of them had caught fire, and that the one that caught fire was a floating bomb. With shells and drums of a flammable liquid on deck, and with picric acid, gun cotton, and TNT in her holds, Mont-Blanc was an accident waiting to happen. Captain Pasco, acting captain superintendent of the dockyard, told the inquiry he was surprised any ship would carry such a cargo:

  1. Q: What do you say as to the cargo, would you not call it extremely abnormally dangerous character?
  2. A: Those words describe it to my mind.
  3. Q: I have it stated to me, I don’t know whether correct, a cargo of that description would not be allowed to be loaded on a British ship at all?
  4. A: I am surprised any ship would allow it to be loaded. I am surprised the people on the ship didn’t leave in a body.

Mont-Blanc, however, was not the only ship carrying such a cargo. Edward Flower, an interpreter for the French line, the Compagnie Générale Transatlantique, was usually present when French captains met with British representatives in New York City. Flower was reluctant to answer some of the questions posed to him, but he was ordered to answer by Judge Drysdale:

  1. Q: Do other ships carry similar cargoes?
  2. A: Practically all explosives ship carry about the same.
  3. Q: TNT, benzol, picric acid wet and picric acid dry?
  4. A: Yes.
  5. Q: Where did these ships go?
  6. A: It is up to the Admiralty. We have no jurisdiction.
  7. Q: You do with most of the captains. Have ships with similar cargoes come to Halifax?
  8. A: They come to ports wherever they are assigned to by the Admiralty—Norfolk, Sydney, I don’t know whether there is any come to Halifax before. I do not remember every ship, which port, where she catches the convoy. We have, on average, 40 to 50 sailings every two weeks and it is hard to remember each ship.
  9. Q: With similar cargoes to this?
  10. A: Yes.

Although the point was not followed up at the inquiry, it was clear to a great many people that the real problem in Halifax was not that two ships collided, but that one of them was a floating bomb. The captain of the US Navy ship Tacoma, Powers Symington, noted this in a dispatch to Washington within hours of the explosion: “There seem to be three very obvious lessons to be learned from this accident. First, heavy shipments of high explosives should not be permitted in any populous district. Two, Benzol and picrates should not be loaded on the same ship with high explosives. Three, when shipments of high explosives are underway, all traffic should be controlled so as to avoid the danger of collision.”

The Halifax Board of Control raised the same issue when the city clerk, Fred Monaghan, sent a private letter to Rear-Admiral Chambers: “Representations have been made that the disaster was in some way due to an improper loading of cargo…. I ask that particular attention be paid in whatever manner is most suitable to ensure that munitions ships entering this port be loaded in such a manner as to prevent as far as possible any danger of explosion.” Admiralty records in London show that officials there had reached the same conclusion. Though they evaded all public responsibility, they acted to prevent a recurrence of what happened in Halifax: a message went to New York instructing the British agent there that in future he was “not to ship explosives and flammables on the same vessel.”

Although the inquiry never dealt with this point, the message had got through. It would not, however, be wise to admit that in public. The same secret memo that acknowledged the dangers in loading explosives and flammables on the same ship, raised the possibility that by having done that the British might be held liable. The British, in other words, knew what was wrong and they knew that the explosion resulted from improper loading. They were prepared to prevent a recurrence of the problem, but not to admit their responsibility.

Another precipitant of the disaster was inadequate control of harbour traffic that resulted in a munitions ship entering while other vessels were freely moving about—something the local media did point out. In an editorial titled, “FELL DOWN ON OUR JOB,” on 5 February 1918, the Evening Mail compared running a harbour to controlling traffic on land:

The controlling of traffic in harbour was a policeman’s job. The sergeant of any city traffic squad, with the might of the law behind him, could organize the traffic in Halifax harbor in a couple of days and keep it running smoothly and safely. Any pilot or ship master who dared to break the rules of the road laid down by the policeman would be yanked off his vessel and sent to jail; any vessel that moved outward or inward without first getting permission of the policeman would be prosecuted the same way. The sergeant of any city traffic squad would regard this as easy.

Yet upon this simple policeman’s job, the Canadian Naval Service, with all its frills and feathers, its admirals and commanders, captains and lieutenants, fine uniforms and gold lace, fell down. Result 1,500 innocent men, women and children killed, thousands injured, several hundred blinded for life.

The Halifax Herald had a similar view. It called for a thorough investigation, fixing responsibility with rigorous punishment whether the culprit be “Imperial or Canadian naval officers or other officials.” It called for reorganization of the naval staff in Halifax and prompt dismissal of all incompetent officials. Mont-Blanc had come to Halifax with enough fuel to make a transatlantic crossing. She had been checked out by the Royal Navy in New York, and checked again by the examining officer in Halifax. She had no need to come into harbour other than for safety against possible enemy attack. In the view of the port authorities, the threat to the city was less than the risk of losing a ship loaded with badly needed ammunition. Halifax was deliberately put at risk.

WAR RESPONSIBLE

Of course, it really was not the French or the Americans or even the British who were responsible for what happened on 6 December 1917—it was the war. If it had not been for the war, IMO would have been whale hunting in the Antarctic and Mont-Blanc trading along the coast of South America. If it had not been for the war, IMO would have left in the evening when it got coal instead of being forced to wait until dawn. If it had not been for the war, Mont-Blanc, even if by some chance she had come to Halifax, would not have been carrying munitions. Not only that, when informed that a munitions ship was on fire in the harbour, no one made any attempt to advise Highflyer or Niobe or their sailors, who were risking their lives. No one told the Canadian army, who were in barracks close by. No one warned the fire department or the public, or even the children who were watching on their way to school. No one even told the senior officer in harbour, Rear-Admiral Chambers. Once again, the war was responsible—everyone was more worried about secrecy and German spies than about public safety.

However, it is also true that no one had grasped the extent of the risk to a community created by handling such dangerous substances. Those in charge in Halifax were very much victims of the same “It can’t happen here” syndrome that explains Three Mile Island, Bhopal, and Chernobyl.22 Rear-Admiral Chambers may have been bothered by that failure. On 20 December, he sent a dispatch to the Admiralty suggesting a change in policy: “In view of unrest among civil population owing to passage of munitions ships through crowded harbour in close proximity to town I submit that where possible vessels with large cargoes of high explosives from United States should always be dispatched in Norfolk convoys.” His suggestion was rejected: “At Hampton Roads ammunition ships are undoubtedly isolated to an extent which is impossible at Halifax. MONT-BLANC was improperly loaded and if guarantees were given that the loading would be rigidly supervised, I think Halifax will be reassured and that the port should not cease to be used by such ships.”

As we now know, loading regulations had been changed, but the public was not told that, nor was it told munitions ships continued to sail in and out of the harbour. About a month after the explosion, a ship called the Mattawa, laden with explosives, was brought in to take on oil at Dartmouth. In a secret dispatch, the Rear-Admiral Chambers said the incident had reopened the issue of safety in the harbour and led to demands for reassurance. He said he had refused “on principle to give any assurance as to such safety.” It is hardly surprising that a secret dispatch to Whitehall, on 5 January 1918, noted: “The aftermath of the Halifax explosion still continues, and there is much nervousness displayed. The local papers are seeking a victim to sacrifice but so far they have kept (at least directly) from imputing blame to the Admiralty or the convoy system.”

This nervousness was reflected by complaints Mayor P.F. Martin sent to Ottawa—complaints that got nowhere. Finally, on 1 February 1918, the deputy minister of Marine and Fisheries informed the mayor that munitions ships would continue to be loaded and unloaded in Halifax: “Doubtless you realize the strategical position of the Port of Halifax and the important part it plays in the prosecution of the war. The view that no munitions ship should be laden or unladen at any pier in the Port would undoubtedly retard very seriously the prosecution of the war. You can best determine for yourself what influence it would have upon the future of the port.” Once again, there was no mention that loading procedures had been changed. Soon after that, Galileo, carrying munitions, left Bedford Basin while an oil tanker was entering the harbour.

Community leaders in Canada’s other major East Coast harbour, Saint John, New Brunswick, had been watching what happened in Halifax. They accepted that the British would continue to ship dangerous cargoes through Canadian harbours and that this might lead to another explosion. However, they notified the military commander that there was a “very great responsibility both moral and financial attached to the safeguarding of lives and property attached to the handling and transportation of munitions.” They did not ask the military to do anything, but they wanted to make clear that if anything happened, Ottawa would be responsible. The same kind of pressure was building in Nova Scotia.

HALIFAX CAMPAIGN

The start of the campaign to get the federal government to accept responsibility for what happened was a resolution passed unanimously by the Roman Catholic bishops and sent to the prime minister and to a man responsible for patronage in the Maritimes, Frank Carvell (Carvell had been a Liberal but had split with Laurier over conscription and joined the Union government): “We, the Archbishop of Halifax, and the Suffragan bishops of the Maritime provinces, that is the bishops of Chatham, N.B., Antigonish, N.S., St. John, N.B., and Charlottetown, P.E.I., in meeting assembled … are firmly convinced that the federal government should assume full responsibility for the loss of property in Churches, Schools and other public institutions of all denominations in Halifax and the neighbouring districts.” Acknowledging that the government’s first concern was the war, the bishops said they were not “wishing to urge our losses upon you at a time when your attention is directed to a work much more urgent than ours.” However, they asked for an authoritative statement so they could understand what would happen and “content ourselves with the present temporary and very imperfect conditions of our churches and schools.”

Mayor Martin, who was a Roman Catholic, may have been encouraged by the position taken by the bishops. He wrote mayors throughout the province asking for their support:

The tragedy which occurred in Halifax on the 6th of December 1917, was a result of conditions over which the Municipal Authorities had no supervision or jurisdiction. The regulations respecting the Harbour and the shipping therein and all war activity on the water and on the land are solely within the purview of the British Admiralty and the Government of Canada. We feel called upon to impress this point upon Municipal Authorities of every City and Town in Nova Scotia in order to solicit their sympathy with us in an appeal to the Dominion Government to make full reparation for the material loss we have sustained no fault or omission, neglect or lack of foresight on our part.

The mayor not only asked these municipalities to back Halifax, he sent them a draft motion, which he asked them to pass, and he specifically asked them to send a copy of the resolution to the prime minister, Sir Robert Borden. The resolution stated: “RESOLVED that the … council … heartily and unanimously endorse the appeal of the City of Halifax to the Dominion Government for full reparation for the material loss suffered by the City and its citizens from the explosion on board the ammunition ship Mont-Blanc on December 6th, 1917.”

The letters were sent out in early January and got a quick response. The minutes for the next council meeting for every municipality checked showed that the motion was presented and that it always got unanimous support. On 1 February 1918, for example, Kentville passed the motion exactly as requested and promptly sent copies to the prime minister and the City of Halifax. Amherst worked out its own wording: “We believe that an explosion of a French ship loaded with ammunition, the product of an American nation for a Canadian harbor under the wartime administration of the British Admiralty is a war time disaster and, as such, should be so considered by the Allies and government assistance should be requested from several governments as a matter of urgency.”

Early in March, the federal Cabinet approved a report that denied federal liability, but accepted that the explosion was a result of the war. It noted that the British government held itself responsible for damage from air raids and explosions and that the Canadian public expected the same of its government. It concluded:

Although no legal liability rests upon the Crown, nevertheless it is beyond question that the explosion of a very large cargo of munitions of war laden on the steamer Mont-Blanc was an emergency of the war from which the inhabitants of Halifax-Dartmouth and the surrounding districts have suffered incalculable loss…. [It is] incumbent on the Federal Government to provide reasonable and even generous relief for those who have suffered through the necessities of war, without their own default and indeed without adequate knowledge of the danger to which they were exposed. (Order in Council, PC 576, 9 March 1918)

A few days earlier, the Governor General had informed the British government that the Halifax Relief Commission was being given “full discretion to deal with each duly established claim upon the principle of just and reasonable relief.” The federal government concluded that the victims of the explosion should be dealt with basically the same way as people receiving soldiers’ pensions. According to an Order in Council (PC 576): “Especial consideration should be given to the claims of labouring men, mechanics and small householders…. In many instances the losses of such persons while not considerable in themselves, represent the savings of a lifetime. Larger losses might be more easily borne by persons possessed of ample means not materially affected by the disaster.” The attempts to blame Mont-Blanc no longer mattered. The Canadian government recognized where the real blame lay.

HALIFAX RELIEF COMMISSION

Nova Scotia’s premier, G.H. Murray, was doing his own research into how other communities handled similar events. For example, he wrote away for reports on such diverse events as the San Francisco fire, the Washington Place fire in New York City, and the sinking of Titanic. He asked the mayor of Galveston about the hurricane of 1900, the only United States incident with a greater death toll than the Halifax explosion. He also got a copy of J. Byron Deacon’s new book on disaster. It appears he was most impressed by two replies. One was a letter he received from the senator for California, James D. Phelan:

Five citizens were chosen from the larger Citizens Committee to administer relief funds and supplies that were sent to San Francisco. The larger committee was appointed by the mayor soon after the disaster and was known as the Committee of Fifty. The executive committee of five divided the work among themselves, one member acted on finance, another on relief, another on housing and so on. Then the full committee established food depots, soup kitchens built temporary “shacks” in public parks and, finally, after the situation was eased, constructed a Relief Farm, which is now operated by the Municipality where the residuum of the refugees—750—were given accommodation.

The other was advice delivered personally by Christian Lantz, who came to Halifax from Salem. In the wake of its devastating fire, Salem appointed the Salem Rebuilding Commission and gave it sweeping powers to “establish building lines, lay out streets and ways, take land … whenever necessary, make contracts etc. for the purpose of establishing the city.”

On 21 December, Premier Murray attended a meeting that included Major-General Benson, Col. W.E. Thompson, the mayors of Halifax and Dartmouth, Controller Colwell, members of the Board of Trade, and a number of prominent citizens, including G. Fred Pearson, who so effectively coordinated relief from Massachusetts. That meeting unanimously endorsed the idea that “a permanent Commission be appointed to deal with the problems involved in connection with the recent catastrophe.” Before that report was finished there was further consultation. The premier was ill, but the others involved met with representatives from the school boards, the fire underwriters, the trades and labour council, the Rotary Club, and even the French and American consuls. On 4 January, perhaps because of Murray’s research, the final report called for a federal government commission to take over the relief effort. The report said this new commission should have responsibility for:

  1. (a)  the work of furnishing temporary relief,
  2. (b)  the support of those incapacitated,
  3. (c)  the maintenance of those dependent on people who lost their lives,
  4. (d)  compensation for injury to property and person and loss of life,
  5. (e)  reconstruction of devastated areas including any change of location deemed necessary, and
  6. (f)  the rehabilitation of citizens who have so suffered in health or property so as to render assistance of this nature necessary.

The report then went far beyond that. It said the commission should have all the powers normally possessed by mayors, wardens, councils, and other public bodies, and should have the right to enter and clean up all properties and to condemn and raze all buildings not worth repairing. It was an incredible endorsement of public action, perhaps a reflection that the government was already so involved in war that anything seemed possible, as well as a reflection that the growing complaints from the victims made it better for all concerned, including local politicians, if the relief process were taken away from the local community. It made possible—as others have told—the building of an entire new community in the devastated North End, later seen by town planners as one of the first-ever planned communities.

On 22 January, the relief committee was relieved of its duties. The new relief commission was announced by the federal government with powers very similar to those recommended by the premier and the business committee. The commission’s chair would be T.S. Rogers, a leading lawyer in the city. He had not been present at the original meeting convened by H.S. Colwell on the day of the explosion, but he had been on the executive management committee after it was reorganized a few days later. He had also been an active member of the reconstruction committee. He had discreetly avoided recent meetings, including the one that heard the protest, because he knew of his upcoming appointment. A second commissioner was Judge W.B. Wallace, who had served briefly as chair of the medical relief committee and then stepped aside to make way for Lieutenant-Colonel Bell. Only one commissioner was new to Halifax, F.L. Fowke. A prominent Ontario businessman and Liberal supporter of Borden’s Union government, he was experienced in municipal administration, having long served as a councillor and then mayor of Oshawa. At a joint meeting, R.T. MacIlreith welcomed the new commission and promised co-operation. Mayor Martin did the same. MacIlreith was able to tell the commission that the committee had already taken in $3,233,081.30 and that there was more money to come. (The federal government had not yet paid its promised $5 million.) In one of its final acts, the relief committee, once again in response to an American request, asked that goods from Massachusetts keep coming into Canada duty free.