TAKING THE NORTH DOWN WITH HER.
Authors Ken Coates and Bill Morrison
Oxford University Press,
Don Mills, Ontario, Canada.
"The most tragic maritime event ever to occur on the Pacific Coast was the sinking of the Canadian Pacific Railway Steamer Princess Sophia, in October 1918. All of the 353 crew and passengers aboard died in the icy waters of the Lynn Canal when the ship was southbound in Alaskan waters from Skagway to Vancouver, B.C. The shock to the people of the Pacific Northwest was devastating at the time, particularly in the Yukon and Alaska. But the appalling shipwreck was overshadowed by two concurrent tragedies that took millions of lives -- the Great War and the Influenza Epidemic.
Time has healed most of the wounds of that period, and few people today remember Princess Sophia. Her sad story is back in the limelight again with a book by two Canadian historians–– The Sinking of the Princess Sophia; Taking the North Down With Her, by Ken Coates and Bill Harrison, published by the Oxford University Press.
The Princess Sophia, built in Scotland in 1912, was the finest and newest ship operating in Alaska, well-found, well-manned, equipped with wireless, and met all safety requirements.
On her fatal voyage, she carried a maximum number of passengers, for she was one of the last ships of the season to sail south with passengers escaping the northern freeze-up. Some of the most prominent citizens of the Yukon and Alaska were aboard. One-tenth of the citizens of Dawson City were involved in the winter exodus, so hardly a family in the Northland was unaffected by the tragedy. In addition, the ship carried many of the crews of the Yukon River steamboats. In command of Sophia was Capt. L.P. Locke, one of the most experienced masters in the C.P.R. coastal fleet.
The liner left Skagway, at the head of Lynn Canal on her last run of the season for Vancouver, B.C., on the early evening of 23 October 1918. She soon ran into a raging storm, for the Lynn Canal is notorious for sudden furious gales that whip down its narrow waters from the north. In a blinding snowstorm, destroying visibility, somehow Capt. Locke lost his bearings. At 2:00 a.m. at a speed of 12 knots, the ship ran up on Vanderbilt Reef, a then poorly marked rock in the center of the channel, and there she settled fair and square on an even keel, though she had suffered a mortal wound to her hull.
A distress call was sent out, and several small vessels were on the scene from Juneau the next morning. It was hoped she would float off at high tide, but it was not to be. The storm increased in ferocity, from fifty miles to one hundred miles-an-hour winds, while the ship founded and groaned with the fury of the elements. Capt. Locke refused to lower the lifeboats because he feared they would be dashed against the reef. He was apparently not too worried about the fate of the ship, thinking the storm would soon abate.
For forty frightening hours, the reef maintained the grip on the ship, while all aboard waited for the expected rescue attempt. The storm increased in strength, and the small stand-by vessels were forced to take refuge. The grinding of the ship's plates on the reed added to the apprehension of those on board. At 4:30 on the afternoon of Friday 25 October, a fateful message came over the airwaves from the Sophia.
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PRINCESS SOPHIA
photo dated 24 October 1918.
Vanderbilt Reef, Alaska.
Orginal photo from the archives of the
Saltwater People Historical Society |
"Ship foundering on reef. Come at once."
At 5:20 p.m. the static broke with the horrifying message from wireless operator David Robinson. "For God's sake, hurry. The water is coming into my room."
It was the last human contact with the ship. She slipped off the reef into the icy seas and sank like a stone. Within hours the adjacent waters were littered with bodies. Every human aboard perished. Only a dog swam safely to shore.
The people of the nearby little town of Juneau rose nobly to the crisis as they United to search for hundreds of bodies, washed the oil-soaked and battered remains, and prepared them for a decent burial. Everything that could be done was done given the tragic circumstances. The Canadian Pacific rescue ships, Princess Alice and Tees only arrived in time to carry the makeshift coffins south. Their arrival at Vancouver coincided with the celebration of the Armistice on November 11, but the Yukon Territory and Alaska went into mourning.
The subsequent marine inquiry absolved the C.P.R. from blame, for there were no witnesses alive to tell exactly what had happened on that fateful morning when the ship ran ashore. Relatives of the victims sued the railway company for damages in the American courts. The litigation went on for years, entailing huge legal fees, and was not concluded until October 1932, fourteen years after the disaster, when the U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals ruled in favor of limited liability for the defendants. The relatives received nothing.
Some of the relatives of the crew members of the ship and of the river steamers were a little more fortunate. In the courts, the C.P.R. fought payment by the Workmen's Compensation Board of B.C., because the tragedy occurred in Alaskan waters outside of B.C.'s jurisdiction. Canadian courts concurred in the claim, and the litigation went to the final court of appeal, the Privy Council in London, which ruled in favor of the bereaved relatives. Widows received the modest sum of $20.00 per month life pension, with a bonus of $5.00 a month for each orphaned child.
The two authors of the book have taken a scholarly approach to the story. The opening chapters emulate the successful technique used in "A Night to Remember," by Walter Lord––the story of the sinking of the Titanic. They describe the inexorable decline of the Gold Rush communities in the North, which culminated in the loss by shipwreck of many of their most prominent citizens. The lives of many of the victims have been researched from the human-intere4st side. Appendices include the names of all known victims of the disaster, although several stowaways were never accounted for. The book clearly demolishes many wild rumors that flourished at the time, such as the canard that Capt. Locke refused to launch the boats to save money for the C.P.R.
The authors are guilty of one geographical 'howler.' They have the Princess Sophia sailing north from Vancouver up Howe Sound en route to Skagway. That would only have taken her to Squamish. And Johnstone Strait is misspelled 'Johnson Strait.'
There are excellent photographs and maps, but the book would have profited by the inclusion of an index."
Words by Norman R. Hacking
Published by The Sea Chest, a membership journal of the
Puget Sound Maritime Historial Society.
December 1990.
Archives of the Saltwater People Historical Society.
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