1918:

“For God’s sake, hurry, The water is coming in my room.”

These desperate words, relayed by Wireless Operator David Robinson, are among the last to be received from the Vancouver-bound CPR steamship Princess Sophia, before the vessel sinks into the icy waters of the Pacific, and all 356 on board are lost, in what will become known as the worst marine disaster in West Coast history.

“With her wireless frantically crying for the help that could not reach her and a blinding snowstorm driving across her stricken bows, the CPR steamship Princess Sophia slipped into deep water off the ledge in Lynn Canal last night and every soul aboard was lost,” reports the Vancouver Sun. “The vessels which had been standing by were powerless to render aid. The ship, apparently, was hurled right across the reef andf those aboard her were precipitated into the raging waters.”

The Princess Sophia, which has been lodged against Vanderbilt reef since running aground in bad weather more than 24 hours earlier, has been unable to evacuate due to the storm, and the structure of the reef itself, which prevents lifeboats from being launched, or rescue vessels from approaching.

Captain Leonard Locke, described by the Sun as “one of the oldest and most experienced navigators on the northern coast”, had advised other ships to stay clear of the Sophia, in hopes that the storm will abate. Passengers waited on board in terror, many making out their Final Will and Testament, or composing letters to loved ones. Throughout the afternoon of October 24th, a number of rescue efforts were undertaken, to no avail, and, finally, late in the afternoon of the 25th, the rescue vessels receive a frantic radio transmission that the ship is, at last, sinking.

“Instantly, the Cedar, under a full head of steam, fought her way  back through the darkness and the snow to where she had last seen the Sophia,” the Sun explains. “There was no sign of the Princess Sophia; only the blinding snow-storm and a wilderness of mad waters.”

The only survivor of the disaster is a small dog, which managed to swim its way to a small island nearby, and will recover in the days to follow.  Bodies will continue to wash up on shore for months, sometimes as far as 30 miles away, dead of exposure, or covered and suffocated by engine oil. Two lifeboats are recovered near the reef, both empty, speaking to the speed with which the Sophia sunk to the bottom of the ocean. In fact, many of the watches of the bodies recovered will have stopped at 5:50 pm, less than half an hour after Robinson’s final transmission.

“There is no hope that any of the Sophia’s passengers might be clinging to rocks or ledges or to bits of wreckage,” the paper concludes, “for long before they would have been pounded to pulp by the heavy seas that break on those stern rocks. All are lost of that crowd who joyfully departed from Skagway late on Wednesday night, counting themselves fortunate that they had escaped a long winter in the northern port.”

 

IMAGE: The Princess Sophia, grounded on Vanderbilt Reef, 11:00AM, October 25th, 1918.