Hon. Fabian Manning: Honourable senators, today I am pleased to present chapter 67 of “Telling Our Story.”

Newfoundland and Labrador is no stranger to maritime disaster with pervasive threats of ocean ice, raging storms and jagged reefs jeopardizing sailors who brave the seas when conditions are poor. From these come some stories of fantastic heroism and others of terrible tragedy.

One such tragedy occurred on a windy February night in 1918 on a luxury steamer bound for Halifax and New York. The SS Florizel, under Captain William Martin, was a vessel of some history. Commissioned in 1909, the Florizel was among the first ships specifically designed to navigate the icy waters around Newfoundland and Labrador. She had participated in the rescue of sealers stranded on the ice during the great Sealing Disaster of 1914 and was the vessel to carry to Europe the first 500 volunteers of the Royal Newfoundland Regiment in World War I — the Blue Puttees. But on that fateful winter’s night, she would not be celebrated.

The Florizel left port at St. John’s around 8:30 p.m. on Saturday, February 23, with orders from Captain Martin to proceed at full speed. Unbeknownst to Martin, however, the ship’s chief engineer, J.V. Reader, had only put her at partial speed in order to delay her arrival in Halifax and force an overnight stay at the port so that Reader could visit his family. This action, however intended, had fatal consequences, as Captain Martin judged the ship as having travelled much farther than she actually had, turning her westward long before she’d passed the Avalon Peninsula.

Just after 4:30 a.m., the Florizel crashed head-on into a reef off Cappahayden, going full speed. Dozens of crew and passengers died in the initial impact, with many more drowning or freezing as the ship was torn to pieces by the perilous waves. An SOS signal was sent out, but due to the previous navigation error, the rescuers were directed to the wrong area. Thankfully, the people of Cappahayden could see the wreck from the beach and corrected this error. They attempted to launch a small boat to rescue survivors, but it was immediately overturned by the storm.

Meanwhile, on the Florizel, power had been lost, and most remaining survivors were weathering the storm in the small radio room. As it was wartime in the dead of winter, it was particularly difficult to mount a rescue. The day after the crash, a handful of rescue vessels incorrectly reported that there were no survivors on the wreck, halting rescue progress until the reports were rectified. To make matters worse, the large rescue ships couldn’t go near the wreck due to the reef, and the small rescue ships couldn’t launch due to the storm.

Twenty-seven hours after the crash, a rescue successfully took place, saving 44 passengers and crew. However, an even greater number were lost — 93 people lost their lives, including three-year-old Betty Munn, who was sailing with her father. She was torn from his arms in the disaster. In memory of her death, there is a statue of Peter Pan, the fairy tale she loved, in Bowring Park in St. John’s.

The task of preaching and bringing comfort to the families of those who had suffered the loss of loved ones fell to Archbishop Edward Patrick Roche of St. John’s, who in a sermon at the memorial for the victims said:

With the exception perhaps of the great Sealing Disaster of a few years ago [the SS Newfoundland, 1914] never has there been in our history — strewn as that history is with marine tragedies great and small — an ocean horror that has come home to us with such appalling force as the great disaster of the ‘Florizel’ which now throws its shadow over our city and our Island.

Thank you.