“There are few people,” said one survivor, “who really know how the chief officer, Mr. Steede, died. He was at his post to the last and was killed by tumbling wreckage.
“Each man has his post at a certain boat, and his was at boat No. 8, on the port side. The ship was struck on the starboard, but an effort was made to launch the port side boats at once after the collision. But the list on the vessel made it impossible to get away these boats.
“We went over to the port side. ‘No good, boys, on this side,’ said he. ‘Go to the starboard.’ We went there, but the chief officer remained at No. 8, directing passengers, until he was swept from his post either by falling ropes, boxes or perhaps a boat, for the starboard boats broke loose and did a lot of damage to life. No one actually saw Steede disappear.”
HERO SAVED WEE GIRL
The description of the wreck and the heartrending scenes that followed, given by Robert W. Crellin, of Silverstone, British Columbia, was graphic.
Crellin is a prosperous farmer. He was one of the heroes of the wreck. He saved Florence Barbour, the eight-year-old daughter of a neighbor, by swimming with the child on his back, and, with the aid of another rugged passenger, pulled two women and several men into a collapsible boat.
Clad only in a night shirt, Crellin said the water and air were as cold as winter, chilling all hands to the bone.
Despite the peril and exposure, flaxen-haired Florence Barbour clung to Crellin’s neck and never even cried.
“The child was pluckier than a stout man,” said Crellin. “She never even whimpered, and complaint was out of the question. You should have seen how the girls and women in the little village of Rimouski hugged her when we got ashore.
“Time and time again I feared Florence would lose her hold, and I would speak to her when my mouth and eyes were clear. Each time her little hands would clutch me tighter, until it seemed she’d stop my breath, but I welcomed the hold because it showed she had the pluck and courage needed.