Thunderstruck - Erik Larson [1]
It was not the most glamorous of ships, especially when compared to the Empress, which was new and nearly three times as large and infinitely more luxurious. The Montrose was launched in 1897 and in succeeding years ferried troops to the Boer War and cattle to England. It had one funnel, painted Canadian Pacific’s trademark colors—buff with a black top—and flew the line’s red-and-white-checkered “house” flag. It carried only two classes, second and third, the latter known more commonly as “steerage,” a term that originally denoted the belowdecks portion of a ship devoted to steering. A Canadian Pacific timetable from the era described the second-class quarters. “The Cabin accommodation on the MONTROSE is situated amidship, where least motion is felt. The staterooms are large, light and airy. There is a comfortable ladies’ room and a smoking room, also a spacious promenade deck. An excellent table is provided. Surgeons and stewardesses are carried on all steamers.” The line’s motto was, “A little better than the best.”
The manifest for the upcoming voyage listed only 20 passengers in second class but 246 in third, nearly all immigrants. In addition the Montrose carried a crew of 107, among them a wireless operator, Llewellyn Jones. Canadian Pacific had been aggressive about installing wireless on its transoceanic vessels, and the Montrose, despite its age and modest decor, carried the latest apparatus.
TO BE SUCCESSFUL, KENDALL knew, a captain needed more than skill at navigation and ship-handling. He had to dress well, be charming, and possess a knack for conversation, while also owning the mental wherewithal to monitor a thousand operational details, including whether the lifeboats were adequately secured, whether the correct foods and wines had come aboard, and—a new responsibility—whether the ship’s Marconi set and aerial were in good repair and ready to receive the inevitable flurry of trivial messages that engulfed a liner upon departure. Although the jokes, bon voyages, and riddles were utterly predictable, they nonetheless reflected the wonder with which people still treated this new and almost supernatural means of communication. First-time passengers often seemed mesmerized by the blue spark fired with each touch of the key and the crack of miniature thunder that followed, though shipping lines had learned from experience that wonderment faded quickly for passengers whose cabins were too close to the wireless room. They learned too that it was prudent to locate Marconi sets a good distance from the wheelhouse so as not to distort the magnetic field registered by the ship’s compass.
Before each voyage Kendall tried to read as many newspapers as he could to keep himself up to date on current events and thereby arm himself to meet his nightly obligation to host guests at his table. Amazing things were happening in the world, so there was a lot to talk about. A year earlier Louis Blériot had flown his airplane across the English Channel, from Calais to Dover. While on display at Selfridge’s department store, the craft drew 120,000 admirers. Science seemed foremost on people’s minds; talk of X-rays, radiation, vaccines,