OTTAWA MAN PUT WIFE IN BOAT; WAS SAVED LATER
“Thank God I saved my wife; for myself I am not anxious,” said John W. Black, of Ottawa, when he painfully limped across the platform of the Grand Trunk station, carrying a little paper bundle—all his belongings—under his arm. His left leg was badly lacerated and he had much difficulty in walking to St. James Street, where a cab took him and his wife to the Windsor station for the first train to Ottawa. Mrs. Black was cheerful and smiling in spite of bruises and scratches and the terrible exposure of the water and the cold night.
And this is the story, interrupted at times, as Mr. Black told it:
“I was asleep in my bunk when I felt the terrible impact of the collision. At first I thought it must be an evil dream and I saw visions of doomsday. But, looking out through the skylight, I saw frantic seamen rushing to the ship’s side, sliding down and, as often as not, being dashed head first into the sea. The Empress of Ireland was then keeling over.
“In a flash I saw that the thing had happened. Literally tearing my wife from her berth, I dashed onto the deck, and we both slid down the deck and were projected into the water. Then followed moments that no man could ever describe. Half drunk as I was with sleep, the sudden and terrible awakening produced an indescribable effect on me. For a moment I saw nothing but dirty gray. I struggled wildly for the surface, and the time seemed like years.
“As soon as I got to the surface I saw my wife struggling beside me. Right at our side was a deserted life-boat which must have broken from its davits. I managed to push my wife into it, but was unable to follow myself. So I shouted to my wife to sit tight, and that I would swim until I was picked up.
“The last life-boat was only a few yards away from me, passing by the side of the sinking Empress, when suddenly a huge, heavy superstructure broke from the steamer’s side, falling with a terrible crash into the boat. I shut my eyes in horror. When I looked up again all that was left of the life-boat and her forty-five occupants were a few stumps of wreckage. Poor people, they had gone to their doom! Fortunately death was sudden and merciful.
“A few minutes afterwards I was picked up by one of the boats from the Storstad. I cannot express the joy and relief I felt when I saw my wife half seated, half lying in the boat. She was not badly hurt, however, and we soon were crying in each other’s arms.
“The men of the Storstad treated us well the little time we remained on her. Not long after the rescue we were taken aboard the Government vessel Lady Evelyn.
“At Rimouski we were treated and helped in every possible way by Mayor Fiset of Rimouski. He did all that could be done to help us.”