Part 6
Was there ever a liner sailed without at least one stowaway, or at least rumours of one or more on board? We had one on the Empress of Ireland and this provided much excited speculation and rumour. One had seen him found in a locker, another had caught him hiding in an empty bin in the kitchen, whilst others had him ignominiously dragged out from under various beds. Some even went so far as to tell stories of his appearance before the Captain with amazing quotations from the conversations that ensued!
In my subsequent travels about the world, I have witnessed many systematic and thorough searches when a hunt for a stowaway has been in progress. The passengers are always on the side of the hunted, hoping he will either not be found or, if caught, will be allowed to work his passage, but every effort and ounce of ingenuity in methods of detection are used to ‘ferret’ out the ‘villain’. Wardrobes, lockers, cupboards, store places of all kinds are investigated, not a square foot of space where a poor body might hide, left without scrutiny.
One day I saw a notice about wireless messages and this brought back my mind to the Crippen murder. This had interested my young mind the year before, being impressed by the fact that it was the first time in history that wireless telegraphy had been used to catch an escaped criminal. The first newsflash became the sensation of the day and, young as I was, it gripped my imagination.
The ship on which Crippen, the quiet little doctor of Hilldrop Crescent, Holloway, North London, and Miss Ethel Le Neve, his mistress, were apprehended was the Montrose and its master was Captain Kendall who played an important part in the drama. What links this incident with my story is the fact that Captain Kendall eventually became the Captain of the Empress of Ireland and was its master when it sank in the St Lawrence in 1914.
Sunday at sea and mother saw to it that all her family were clean and properly dressed in their best clothes for the church service conducted by the Captain. A kindly nurse offered to look after the baby and our young sister while mother attended the service with the rest of the family. Afterwards I saw two men playing chess, and I heard one elderly lady make a scathing comment about this, with details of the dire perils that might lie in store for us all as a result!
In those days, Sunday was strictly regarded as a day of rest and religious observance and all work that could possibly be done the previous day had to be disposed of before the Sabbath. The prohibition included riding on a public conveyance, unless it was absolutely necessary, we children were not allowed to play games, our boots and shoes had to be cleaned the day before and mother would have thrown up her hands in holy horror at any suggestion of sewing or knitting on the Lord’s Day.
The Empress of Ireland sailed up the Gulf of St Lawrence and I was deeply impressed as we came to Quebec, looking up at the towering cliffs, crowned at the top by the beautiful Chateau Frontenac Hotel with its round towers, the river flowing at the bottom and the lovely old-world city spreading out on the landward side. Little did I imagine then that one day, nearly sixty years later, May and I would stay in that same hotel, occupying a suite of rooms in one of those very same round towers! But we did, in 1967 – Canada’s Centenary Year, and our name in the hotel register is proud proof.
