Empress of Ireland - LostLiners.com

As Empress of Ireland slowed to around 8 knots on approach to Rimouski at 12:30AM and sailed directly into a thick fog bank. The steam-powered whistle on the forward funnel was sounded for one long blast. The ship cleared the fog before a second blast became necessary. Twenty minutes later the Empress slowed to a halt as the mail tender Lady Evelyn came out from Rimouski for the Royal Mail transfer. The exchange went quickly and smoothly and a scant half-hour later, as the Empress entered deep water at about 1:30, the tug Eureka pulled alongside the liner as the pilot, Adélard Bernier, prepared to disembark disembark. His parting words to Kendall are alleged to have been "I don't think you'll run into much fog". As soon as he was aboard Eureka the tug engaged full throttle and sped away from the Empress, which likewise went to full speed ahead at the order of First Officer Jones.

Eight minutes later, as Empress of Ireland made about 15 knots on a heading diagonally across the 30-mile width of the St. Lawrence, Captain Kendall appeared on the bridge at about the same time the bell sounded in the crow's nest. John Carroll, the lookout on duty, reported an object off the starboard bow. Kendall and First Officer Jones sighted a ship's masthead lights about 40 degress of the Empress' bow at a distance of about 6 miles. A critical decision had to be made as to his ship's heading and the that of the oncoming vessel. It was obviously a steamer headed into Pointe au Père to pick up a pilot. Closer to shore than the Empress was, the oncoming vessel appeared to be holding a steady course. Kendall decided that a starboard passing could be accomplished as the Empress would be well clear of the other vessel's path before the two ships passed eacother.

The other vessel was the Norwegian coal ship Storstad. On duty at the time was Chief Officer Alfred Toftenes. The 33-year old sailor had served aboard Storstad for three years and worked his way up the ranks. Commanding the bridge, Toftenes had with him Third Officer Jacob Saxe, Helmsman Peter Johannsen and Seaman Knüt. As he passed Metis Point, Toftenes had ordered the helmsman to adjust his course and slowly bring the collier closer to the south shore of the St. Lawrence. Then came two sharp rings from the forward lookout. The report came in of lights to port. Toftenes sited what looked like a large liner off the port bow, closing fast. From his point of view, he could see her green starboard light, then her port red light. This told him she was turning towards the right (his left) and would pass him port to port.

With a combined speed of close to 25 knots, the two vessels converged on eachother at half a mile per minute. It seemed that just at that critical juncture when it would have been possible for each bridge crew to determine the other's heading, a thick fog rolled in from the south shore and enveloped the vessels; Storstad first and then the Empress. Although he was certain he had already cleared the oncoming vessel's course, Kendall ordered full astern and sounded three short blasts from the ship's horn. As the liner's engines were slowed, halted and reversed, a single, long blast out of the darkness signalled the oncoming vessel's intention to hold course, which Kendall assumed meant it would pass safely to starboard.

Aboard Storstad, Chief Officer Toftenes ordered Storstad's engines stopped after sounding the long blast from his horn. A moment later he heard a second series of three short blasts from the now invisible liner. He responded with an even longer blast from his own horn and ordered AHEAD SLOW. With Storstad adrift, he had no ability to steer the ship, and a strong current could push him toward the liner he assumed was somewhere in the mist off the port bow.

Captain Kendall heard the long blast from the unknown vessel's horn. It seemed to be coming from far off to starboard. He felt confident that the vessels were a safe distance apart and ordered ALL STOP. The Empress' horn sounded two long blasts, signalling her intent to stop.

Aboard Storstad, Toftenes responded with a third long blast and still assuming the liner to be well off his port side, ordered his helm to correct Storstad's course to starboard to correct for any drift. He then heard a second pair of long blasts from the unseen liner. A few moments later, the unmistakeable outline of the liner's profile emerged from the thick fog just as Storstad's captain, Thomas Anderson appeared on the bridge. As Anderson ordered the engines reversed, Toftenes sounded three long blasts from the ship's horn, but it was too late. The time was approximately 1:55AM.

Aboard Empress of Ireland Captain Kendall saw the forward masthead lights and both navigation lights of Storstad bearing down on him at speed. With the Empress' engines stopped he knew his ship was dead in the water. Screaming over the approaching's ship's horn, he ordered the engines full ahead and the helm hard over to try and swing the Empress' stern around and at hope for a glancing blow at best. But there was no time. Storstad's reinforced bow, designed for cutting through pack ice in Scandanavian waters, struck Empress of Ireland a foot below Shelter Deck directly between the two funnels. The force of the impact buckled the liner's hull like tin foil as the collier dug about 14 feet into the Empress' belly. Kendall ordered the ship's siren sounded, signalling the crew to close all the watertight doors and man the lifeboats. Within a minute of the impact, Empress of Ireland was listing to starboard 9 degrees. As water flooded the hull, a failed watertight door in Bulkhead 4 allowed water to flood the Third- and Steerage-Class accomdoations on Lower Deck. Passengers asleep in their beds one minute were waking up to find themselves submerged in water, in a murky darkness from which their was no escape. On the bridge, Kendall called out to the crew of Storstad to keep their engines at full ahead in the hopes of plugging the hold in the Empress' side, but the forward momentum of his ship spun the small collier around and she drifted astern and into the darkness. He immediately ordered an SOS to be sent out in the hopes that ships in nearby Pointe au Père would arrive quickly.

With a hole 14 feet wide and 25 feet high, Empress of Ireland was taking on water at a staggering rate of 60,000 gallons per second. At this time Kendall hoped there was a chance to beach his ship on the south shore and orded FULL AHEAD aiming her towards the river bank. But the engines would not start. The boiler rooms were flooding fast and there was just no steam to give. As passengers not already awakened by the exchange of horns and the collision were roused from slumber, the list began to grow. Water began pouring in through open portholes as Empress of Ireland slowly began her death roll. In lurches the lean forward and to starboard grew worse and worse as plates and anything moveable began to slide or fall. Panicked passengers began to assemble on the Promenade and Boat Decks, but it soon became apparent that the port side boats could not be launched. The crew had assembled on the starboard side and were trying to launch the lifeboats that now hung just a few feet above the water. As the choas unfolded, the engine room flooded and the lights flickered and then faded out, capitulating the dreadful situation into total darkness.

By now the list was an perilous 30 degrees. People clung to the port side rails for dear life. Others slid helplessly down the nearly vertical deck into the cold water. As the deck went vertical, the night filled with trailing screams as some lost their grip and plunged into the darkness. Fearing the suction thought to accompany the sinking of a large vessel, many jumped into the freezing water to make a swim for it. In the distance, the lights of Storstad could be seen as the fog responsible for the collision vanished as quickly as it had appeared. As Empress of Ireland's funnels came crashing down people scrambled for safety on the port side.
Climbing over hull plates, grappling at rivets and squeezing out through portholes, they wailed helplessly as an explosion rocked the ship; the boilers were exploding. Bodies and debris were launched into the air as the entire vessel rumbled. Now in her death throes, the water slowly rose up to consume Empress of Ireland. As she vanished from the surface, a 600-foot-long depression formed where the hull had previously been. As the last bit of air within the hull was expelled, a series of waves cascaded forth from the spot of the sinking.

Empress of Ireland was gone, a mere 14 minutes after the collision. In the darkness, people slowly began to succumb to the freezing water, while others who were unable to don life jackets drowned. By the time rescue ships approached the scene, it was going on 4:00AM. Most of those in the water had perished. Out of the 1,477 aboard Empress of Ireland, only 465 were saved. 1,012 people had lost their lives.

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