Moose Meat and Doomed Liners (part 4)

Posted on 18. Jul, 2008 by Kerry Banks in Writing from the road

We’re headed toward Rimouski on Route 132 and the discussion has once again turned to food, specifically moose meat, or viande d’orignal as its known in these parts. Moose meat is a popular dinner item in Quebec, even though you can’t buy it in stores. In 2006, hunters legally killed 1,800 of them in the province. And that number doesn’t include the moose that were killed in collisions with cars. The drivers of the vehicles often don’t survive those smashups either. Suzie says that in some places in Quebec when a hunter shoots a moose he will parade around town with the beast strapped to the hood of his truck. However, when she says this she confuses “moose” with “mouse.” The image of a tiny rodent lashed down atop a pickup sends everyone into hysterics.

Today’s first destination is the Pointe-au-Père Maritime Historic Site, where we visit a fine museum that documents the sinking of the Empress of Ireland. Oddly, few Canadians are familiar with this important piece of maritime history. The Canadian Pacific luxury liner departed Quebec City for Liverpool at 4:20 p.m. on May 28, 1914, with 1,477 passengers and crew. Henry George Kendall just been promoted to captain of the Empress at the beginning of the month and it was his first trip down the St. Lawrence in command of the vessel.

Early the next morning, the liner was proceeding through heavy fog down the channel near Pointe-au-Père, Quebec., when Captain Kendall sighted the Norwegian collier Storstad. A fog bank could be seen approaching from the land, and Kendall realized it was going to pass between the Storstad, which was then about two miles away, and his own vessel. Then the fog came and the Storstad’s lights disappeared. Fog signals were exchanged, but these were misunderstood. At 2:00 a.m., the Storstad crashed into the side of the Empress of Ireland, cutting open a huge gash in its starboard side. The Storstad did not sink, but the Empress, with severe damage to her starboard side, rapidly began taking on water. The lights and power quickly failed and the ship rolled over and sank within 14 minutes, claiming 1,012 passengers and crewmen, making it the most devastating maritime disaster in Canadian history. In fact, more passengers perished on the Empress (840) than on the Titanic (818).

Only 465 people survived the sinking of the Empress, of which only four were children (the other 134 children were lost), and 42 were women (the other 279 women were lost). Among the lucky survivors was a coal stoker named William Clarke, who improbably enough also survived the sinking of the Titanic two years before. In an newspaper interview Clarke described the doomed ship’s final moments, saying, ”The Empress rolled over like a hog in a ditch.”

In a bizarre sidebar, the ship’s cat Emmy, a loyal orange tabby that had never once missed a voyage, repeatedly tried to escape the ship near departure. The crew could not coax the feline aboard and the Empress departed without her. It was reported that Emmy watched the liner sail away from Quebec City while sitting on the roof of the shed at Pier 27, which would later become a storehouse for the dead pulled from the river.

Standing outside the museum is the second-tallest lighthouse in Canada. Built in 1909, it is the third lighthouse to occupy the site. Despite a fear of heights, I foolishly join the others as we tromp up the 128 spiralling steps to the top of the 33-metre high tower. Even more foolishly I attempt to keep up with the breakneck pace set by our ridiculously fit teenage guide. By the time we reach the top I am a candidate for a cardiac arrest. The view from the glass-walled cupola is spectacular but I’m too out of breath to properly enjoy it. The trip down proves even more harrowing. It’s baby steps all the way.

Interestingly, Pointe-au-Père pre-dated air travel and air mail as the main distribution centre for mail brought from Europe to North America. Ocean liners dropped off their mail bags at the lighthouse. Smaller ships then collected and sorted the mail as they sailed along the St. Lawrence. The mail was offloaded onto waiting trains for final destinations across the continent.

The area boasts another unique historic distinction. In 1909, Pointe-au-Père became home to the new Marconi wire telegraph station for improved communications with the shipping industry. Within the year, Henry George Kendall, the captain of the Empress of Ireland, used the telegraph and its new “instant” hook-up to tip off police that notorious murderer Dr. Harvey Crippen was aboard a ship bound for Montreal. Crippen was disguised as a father accompanying an adolescent youth (in reality his mistress). He was arrested by police when his ship reached Pointe-au-Père and deported back to the U.K. for trial. Crippen was later found guilty of murdering his wife and was sent to the gallows.

(To be continued …)