One hundred years ago, the ocean liner Empress of Ireland left Quebec City for England on what was to be her 96th Atlantic crossing. It never reached the ocean. The steamship was struck by another ship and sunk in the St. Lawrence River, taking more than 1,000 people to their deaths. The centennial of this terrifying marine disaster invites us to reflect on the danger of sea travel, seen yet again with the South Korean ferry disaster in April, and on why some disasters are better remembered than others.
The liner, owned by the Canadian Pacific Railway, set sail on May 28, 1914. At 14,191 tons, the Empress was an impressive ship for her time. On board were 1,477 souls; all but 420 were passengers.
Early on the morning of May 29, as the ship made its way toward the Atlantic, Capt. Henry Kendall became aware of an oncoming vessel; the Norwegian steamship Storstad, bound for Montreal. On Storstad, Capt. Thomas Andersen had retired, leaving Chief Officer Alfred Toftenes in command. Both ships saw no problems with avoiding each other. All that changed as a fog bank rolled in; visibility shrank to almost zero.
Cautiously, Kendall ordered Empress "full astern;" three short whistles informed the Storstad. As the liner slowed down; a further order came for "all stop," along with two long whistles. Toftenes also ordered "stop," giving off one long blast. But then Storstad began drifting in the powerful current. To correct, Toftenes ordered "slow ahead." What he didn't know, in that era before radar and GPS, was that the Empress was dead ahead.
Onboard the Empress, Kendall and his bridge crew were shocked to see the Storstad bearing toward their starboard side. The Norwegian crew was just as terrified to see the liner right in front of them. Andersen immediately ordered "full astern," while Kendall ordered "full ahead." It was too late; around 2 a.m. the Storstad slammed between the ocean liner's two funnels. The effect was immediate; the rush of water put the Empress on a heavy list to starboard. Her wireless operators managed to send out a distress call before the power failed.
Below, many passengers awoke from the impact. As the engine room flooded and power failed, they were swallowed in darkness. In just 14 minutes, the Empress had rolled over to starboard and slipped beneath the Saint Lawrence. About 1,010 people died in that terrifying span; many never had a chance to escape, trapped inside the doomed liner. Only 465 were saved, most brought aboard the Storstad.
Few remember it. There has been some remembrance — a few books and a film — but in the public mind it pales in comparison to the memory of the Titanic, which sank two years earlier. This is strange because more passengers died on the Empress (though the Titanic, including crew, had more total deaths). Why are they forgotten?
It is commonly thought that the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand a month later, leading to the Great War that began in August, pushed the Canadian maritime disaster out of the public's mind. With the slaughter on the Western Front, many simply wanted to move forward and forget the past. David Zeni, author of "Forgotten Empress," argues that other factors played a role. For example, there were no prominent passengers aboard the Empress, unlike Titanic's John Jacob Astor.
Another argument put forth by Zeni was the divisive nature of blame. The story was simple for the Titanic; she hit an iceberg. With the Empress, the resulting inquiries left the populace confused. The Canadian inquiry found the Storstad and her officers at fault; the following Norwegian investigation placed the blame on Capt. Kendall and his bridge crew.
One final argument was that the sinking was more information than people wanted about the true dangers of sea travel. The Empress learned from Titanic's sinking and carried enough lifeboats for all on board. But the boats proved nearly useless; only a handful could be lowered in time. As we pass into the summer and beyond, we should not forget the poor souls lost on the Empress of Ireland.
Austin Sullivan is a graduate student at Central Connecticut State University and a substitute teacher.Copyright © 2015, Hartford Courant