The Lost Empress (26 page)

Alice had no idea how she made it out onto the main deck, and with nothing more to guide her through the darkness than the person in front of her, but she was glad to be there. She gasped for breath as soon as she felt the damp night fog against her skin again, but she understood that she was by no means out of danger. The cold river could not be survived for long, and the fog would surely hinder any rescue attempt.

She found one of the pillars that connected the main deck to the shelter deck above, and as the ship continued to roll onto its starboard side, she held on for dear life. All around her and beneath her were cries of panic. Below the wailing, she could hear a constant rumble as though gallon upon gallon of water was surging throughout the entire ship. She had no further concern for Albrecht. He would neither follow her nor find her now—if he made it out of the ship at all.

She climbed the port side rail as it continued to rise beside her, and suddenly the deck slipped away beneath her. The screaming intensified then until the night was filled with the sound, and Alice was thankful that she could see little of what was happening in the near darkness. She climbed further until she was able to sit on top of the rail, and she gasped as she felt someone grab her ankle. Then a split second later that person was gone.

Alice sat there for no more than a minute. The Empress seemed to shift violently, and Alice knew the ship was about to go down. She clung ever more tightly to the rail, knowing she would soon have to jump, and at the same time she thought she might be sucked down with the hull if she failed to time it right, or perhaps there was no right time. A moment later all decision was taken from her as the entire stern of the ship rose out of the water and something unseen came at her out of the darkness. It caught her on the side of her head and she was thrown into the icy river.

Then, for Alice, the darkness was absolute.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Present day.

In the Wheelwrights’ restaurant at the Historic Dockyard Chatham, Jefferson Tayte had become so immersed in his research into the
Empress of Ireland
disaster that he’d completely lost track of time. He looked up from his screen and pinched his eyes, noting as he did so that there were now very few people there, the lunchtime trade having long since dissipated. He picked up his coffee cup and went to take a sip, but it was empty, the cup stone cold in his hand. He was currently reading a particularly harrowing newspaper extract from the
Chicago Tribune
dated 1 June 1914, the headline to which read ‘FRANTIC CROWDS VIEW LINER DEAD.’ It carried the subtitle ‘Body of Sir Seton-Karr Identified at Quebec from 188 others. MANY NOT RECOGNISED.’ He put his cup down again, still too engrossed to get another refill, and continued to read.

Women Victims Found Stabbed; Men with Knives Gripped in Their Hands.

Quebec, May 31.—[Special.]—The British flag was at half mast and the city was in mourning when the 188 bodies of victims of the Empress of Ireland disaster recovered from the St. Lawrence river reached here from Rimouski today.

The coffins were placed in a pier shed. They formed three rows. All day long the identification went on. Frantic relatives were on hand to do their mournful task. Upon many of the crude coffins was written ‘Do not shed tears over me,’ but hundreds wept nevertheless.

While there were more than 125 bodies that had not been identified, many survivors and relatives of victims left here tonight. They gave up hope of finding the bodies. They telegraphed relatives that the bodies they sought were not recovered. A few, however, went to Rimouski in the hope that more bodies might be picked up and that they might find the ones for which they were looking.

Women Victims Found Stabbed.

A glance at the bodies taken in a walk along the line revealed the story of the collision and the incidents following.

Almost every body bore marks of violence inflicted by contact with parts of the wrecked ship or in struggles in the water. There were bodies of women whose heads were split open or gashed. It is possible that women running from their staterooms in the darkness following the collision ran against stanchions or were hurled against the walls of the sides of the alleys. The wounds also indicated that some of the women had been crushed when the collier buried its steel nose in the side of
the Empress.

Officers in Rimouski have said also that the bodies of the women showed that several of them had been stabbed, that bodies of men had been found with knives in their hands. At any rate, it was apparent by a glance at the shrouds that had been placed on the bodies of both the men and the women that there were other wounds not disclosed on the faces.

Charges Brutality to Sailors.

Victor Vancoster, a Belgian, who was aboard the Empress, charged today that sailors who were in the life boats kicked him in the chest when he tried to climb in.

Walter Erzinger of Winnipeg, a first class passenger, also said he saw fighting between sailors and second or third class passengers in
the water.

In the pier shed this morning were black, brown, and white pine coffins containing the 188 bodies, less than one-fifth of the victims of the collision between the Empress of Ireland and the collier Storstad. Twenty five of the coffins contained the bodies of babies.

Pathetic Attempts at Identification.

At the heads of the coffins stood lines of men and women, many of them survivors, looking for relatives and friends. As coffin lids were lifted they crowded close to view the bodies. One lid would be dropped with a low toned ‘No’ and a searcher would raise the lid of the next coffin just dropped by another ahead.

Suddenly a low moan of a man or the muffled scream of a woman broke the silence. ‘O, Mary!’ ‘My husband!’ or some name of endearment was uttered.

A stalwart man bent forward and kissed the forehead of his wife. A woman would fall fainting on the lid of the coffin she had just raised. Thus it went on all day long until forty-eight bodies were identified.

A man would find the bodies of his wife and children. A woman would identify the body of her husband. In the hunt for bodies of the victims there was no distinction of class. Every person, whether finely dressed or roughly clad, took his turn in the line that moved constantly from coffin to coffin, but the great majority of persons were disappointed in their search.

Identifies Salvation Army Victims.

Major J. M. McGillivray of the Salvation Army was at the pier to make identification of members of his band who had perished. He explained that 175 persons connected with the army had sailed on the Empress and only 25 had survived. Of the victims, he identified sixteen, but said that many were so badly disfigured that it was not possible to recognize them.

While stories of premonitions are always told after every disaster, McGillivray told a story about Mrs Nettice Simcoe, a major in the army, that could not be ignored.

‘Mrs Simcoe told me on the morning that the Empress sailed,’ he said, ‘that the night before she had dreamed about crowds of people in mourning. She told the story to several members of the army at breakfast, and as a result of her story several army men did not sail.’

Furthermore, Edward Gray, solo cornetist, had a similar premonition. As a result, he made his will and left it with his fiancée.

In addition to the 188 bodies recovered here today, twenty-one had been identified at Rimouski and shipped to the homes of relatives. This makes 209 bodies recovered out of a total of 957 passengers. The probability is that the remainder never will be recovered, for the current of the St. Lawrence will sweep them out into the Atlantic.

Tayte had to swallow the lump in his throat when he’d finished reading. He knew his imagination could not come close to the horror experienced by the passengers and crew of the
Empress of Ireland
towards the end of her last voyage.

Women victims found stabbed. Men with knives gripped in their hands . . .
The obvious connotations were unthinkable.

Tayte screwed his face up as he wondered what he would have done under such circumstances. Could he bring himself to kill someone he loved, to spare that person the horror and suffering that might otherwise ensue? He shook his head to dispel the terrifying images those words had trapped inside his head. A moment later he snapped his laptop shut and stood up, suddenly craving some fresh air and an open space. He checked his watch as he collected his things together and put them away. It was almost three. He figured he had time for a quick stroll by the river before heading back to his hotel to meet Davina.

The lounge bar at the Holiday Inn was modern and spacious, with alternating brown and white leather seating and accents of apple green. The floor-to-ceiling windows were bright with sunlight, giving the interior an airy feel. Tayte entered at a pace, knowing he was running close to twenty minutes late. When he saw Davina, he slowed down, not wanting to arrive out of breath, and he immediately noticed that she’d come dressed for dinner, in heels and a knee-length black dress. They greeted one another, and Tayte set his briefcase down by the seat next to hers.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ Tayte said, still breathing harder than he wanted to be. ‘I got stuck into some research when I got back. You know how it is.’ He noticed that her highball glass was almost empty. ‘Can I get you another drink?’

‘Thank you,’ Davina said. She finished her drink and handed it to Tayte to take back to the bar. ‘Gin and tonic with ice and lemon, and don’t worry about being late. I’m sure you had a good reason.’ She seemed to stare at Tayte then. A moment later she smiled and pointed to the left side of her mouth. ‘You’ve got something on your face. Is that chocolate?’

Tayte felt his cheeks flush as he wiped it off with the back of his hand. ‘I have some in my briefcase if you’d like one,’ he said, more out of embarrassment than anything else.

‘No, I’m fine. Thank you.’

‘Yes, of course you are. I’ll just get us that drink.’

Tayte returned a few minutes later, set Davina’s drink down and followed his Jack Daniels into his seat. They touched glasses, and then they both began to speak at the same time. They laughed about it, and Tayte settled back with his glass.

‘Go on,’ he said, still smiling, thinking how much more relaxed he felt in Davina’s company than when he’d first met her. ‘Ladies first.’

‘Oh, I do like a gentleman,’ Davina said. ‘I was going to ask how your day was. Turn up anything good?’

‘You could say that. A few things in fact.’ Tayte reached into his briefcase and showed Davina the photographs of Alice that Lady Metcalfe had let him hold on to. ‘It’s proof that Alice and my client’s grandmother were one and the same person,’ he added, once he’d finished explaining how he came by them.

‘You must be very pleased,’ Davina said, ‘and I’m sure your client will be thrilled.’

Tayte nodded, subconsciously chewing at his lower lip, knowing there were still gaps in the story he hoped to take back to America.

‘You don’t look very pleased,’ Davina said. ‘What is it?’

Tayte snapped out of his thoughts and gave voice to them. ‘I want to know why Alice feigned her death when the
Empress
sank. It’s been puzzling me since I realised she must have found a way to undo the mess she was in. She was all set to return to England, but something happened after the ship set off to change that. I’ve formed a few ideas. I even have one pretty sound theory, but I can’t prove anything.’

‘Well, let’s hear it,’ Davina said. ‘You never know, it might lead to something.’

‘Henry Stilwell,’ Tayte said. ‘Alice’s husband. I’ve been wondering where he’d been through all this—why he hadn’t boarded the
Empress
with Alice, and why they weren’t sharing a cabin on the voyage. I’ve held the opinion that someone like Alice wouldn’t have spied on her country without good reason, and I’ve found no such reason. She came from a respectable, patriotic family. She had no motive that I can see to have spied against her country. And yet, I’ve seen the proof that tells me she did, so I have to assume she was forced.’

‘By the Germans,’ Davina said.

‘Yes, and with a husband and a young family, I don’t think it would have been too difficult to find ways to persuade her.’

‘So, do you think Henry wasn’t able to board the ship with Alice because he’d been kidnapped?’

‘I did, but now I’m not so sure. Since leaving the dockyard this afternoon, I’d come to think that Henry was travelling in a different cabin to Alice’s, with this man called Albrecht from the telegram, because he was Albrecht’s prisoner. Henry, then, was Alice’s get-out-of-jail-free card if you like, because once they reached England, he would be able to explain everything. I figured that’s what must have changed that night.’

‘Because Henry died when the ship sank?’

‘That’s one possibility, but I’ve also come to think that Alice had lost all hope by that point.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘I’ve looked into Henry Stilwell some more. I’d only had call to cover the basics about Alice’s husband before I left home—just enough to know who his parents were and that they lived in New York. Henry was an only child, and with the two Stilwell children having been adopted by Alice’s parents, there were no descendants in America I could go and see. When I got back to my room earlier, I started over with the US census reports and found Henry listed in 1910, age twenty-six, son of Randall Stilwell, who was the head of the household at the time. From there I went back to 1900, and that’s when things got interesting. You see in 1900, Henry’s grandmother was still alive and living with the family, only she wasn’t listed as Stilwell. She was listed as Steinwall.’

‘German?’

‘A surname of German origin, certainly, but I wanted to be sure, so I went further back. The 1890 census shows that her husband, Henry’s grandfather, was still alive and was then the head of the household, so presumably he’d died or had otherwise left by 1900. His name was also Steinwall, and his place of birth was shown as Germany, confirming it.’

‘So Henry was of German descent,’ Davina said, and Tayte could see she was thinking over the implications, just as he had when he’d first made the discovery.

‘It was common for foreign immigrants settling in America to change their names to avoid prejudice, even before the Great War, particularly for families in business as the Steinwalls were. It could mean nothing, of course, but Henry’s Germanic roots are a hard fact to ignore.’

‘It has to mean something,’ Davina said. ‘Suppose Henry and this Albrecht were associates? Perhaps Alice had boarded the
Empress
hoping to be reunited with her husband, only to be betrayed
by him.’