Tsunami

away on the Meigle, Dalton walked to Hollett’s home with the magistrate who had come to the dock to greet him. The captain noted that Hollett hadn’t lost any of the worried look he wore when Dalton first met him the other day.

“My wife has hardly seen me in days,” Hollett said. “And Lucy is so patient.” The two men sat in Hollett’s dark parlour on overstuffed chairs sipping tea that needed warming. In the high-ceilinged quiet of the place, Dalton could almost forget the high dose of tragedy he’d witnessed in recent hours. But Hollett leaned forward, eagerly.

“One of the strange things,” he said, “is that men from the schooners reported no disturbance at sea. The first inkling they had of disaster came from the debris they saw floating past. And what a sight that was…very unexpected, indeed, as you would know more than me, Captain.”

“That’s the way these tsunamis work, sir,” Dalton responded. “It’s the land that gets the damage, not the sea. They’re not storms at sea, at all. If you’re close to shore, you’ll feel a swell, but that’s all. I’ve never experienced one, myself, and I wasn’t out that night. I was safe at home in St. John’s where we thought there was an explosion at the mines on Bell Island, due to the noise the great wave made. Later I heard that St. John’s harbour had emptied for a few minutes. Then I knew there’d been a tsunami, or tidal wave, most people call it. But I knew old fellows who’ve seen the devastation they cause in the Indian Ocean and places south. They wreck entire villages and towns—people sometimes move away rather than rebuild in some cases. Never heard them do much damage this far north, though.”

“Nor have I,” Hollett answered. Dalton noted that he was wide-eyed in the manner of someone who still didn’t believe what was happening.

“We ran out of drugs on board,” Dalton reported. “There were a lot of sick people. Mosdell and the others, the nurses, said there was a lot of call for drugs because so many people don’t have enough bedclothes and they’re living in overcrowded conditions, passing on illnesses to each other. Then the shock and grief made them more vulnerable to illness.”

“So what did you do?”

“We went to St. Pierre and got more supplies. We were in Lamaline, which isn’t far from the French islands, when we ran out. And we knew there were just no stocks left anywhere on the Burin Peninsula. I must say, the French medical people were so helpful. The French authorities, too—they readily offered their port facilities to us most generously.”

“And thank God St. Pierre and Miquelon weren’t affected by the tidal wave,” Hollett added. “So far from their own government in Paris.”

“We didn’t bring sufficient building supplies, either,” Dalton said. “So I ordered ten thousand feet of lumber through the Manager of the Railway to go there on the Argyle. On the Meigle we had roofing supplies, nails, and glass, and we gave all that away, though, as I say, it was not nearly enough for every community.”

As Hollett spoke of the wreckage in the immediate area, Dalton sank into the overstuffed leather chair. He fixed his eyes on the intensity on the magistrate’s face. These were Hollett’s people, he realized—his family, friends, and neighbours.

The Meigle departed Burin on November 27 and dispatched the members of the relief expedition at Argentia at nine o’clock in the morning, where they caught the train. They were in St. John’s a few hours later, rushing to the prime minister’s office.

Squires was almost silent as he listened to Mosdell’s account of the destruction the tidal wave had wrought.

“The property losses are heaviest at St. Lawrence,” the doctor said.

The prime minister nodded.

“It’s to be expected, I suppose,” Mosdell continued. “It being the largest town on the boot.”

“Hollett keeps writing me,” Squires said slowly. “About the loss of life in particular. It’s greater than first thought, I’ve learned.”

“Twenty-seven,” Campbell said. “That’s the most accurate figure. Almost all women and children.”

Squires walked slowly around his large desk. The only sound in the room was his assistant’s breathing.

From behind his desk, the prime minister seemed to return to himself.

“There may be a solution at hand—to the damage, I mean,” he announced. “A South Coast Disaster Committee, under the governor’s patronage, was formed at a public meeting two nights ago. I’m the honorary president and Horwood is acting as chair. Hollett suggested a public subscription. A good idea. But the people were ahead of him—as I knew they would be.” He smiled; his colleagues smiled back in recognition of Squires’ trademark expression.

“They’ve begun house to house collections all over the city,” he continued. “And benefit concerts are being arranged.”

Mosdell nodded.

“The Evening Telegram has opened a public subscription as well,” he added. “That family has got to get in on everything. Hmmph! Well, they’ve got ten thousand dollars together for us in just a few days. According to what Hollett says and what you tell me, we’ll need every cent. All these public donations take pressure off the government. We’ll need the help after the true impact of the New York stock market crash begins to be felt.”

The other men said nothing for a few minutes. Then Campbell spoke up. “I’m sure other towns in the country will open their hearts and pocketbooks as well,” he said.

“Oh indeed!” Squires responded enthusiastically. “They’ve set up a subcommittee on outport contact. I’ve been told to expect large contributions from Grand Falls and Corner Brook in particular, where the paper mills are located.”

As Minister of Marine and Fisheries, Lake’s thoughts drifted to the hundreds of fishing villages on the northeast and west coast. He knew they were filled with people who would want to help but, like their counterparts on the south coast, cash was not important in their lives—fish was their currency.

“Is there a way for people to give non-cash gifts?” he asked.

“Oh yes,” Squires said. “A Kinds Committee has been set up to receive food and clothing and these have begun pouring in already. Harveys Ltd. has donated warehouse space near the railway station where everything can be stored before it’s sent to the Burin Peninsula.”

Lake’s mind harkened back to the snow and wind that had slowed the Meigle’s voyage along the coast.

“What are the plans for getting donations to the South Coast?” he asked. “And distributing them?”

“Hollett has stepped up to the plate,” Squires answered confidently. “We’ve appointed him the committee’s agent. He’ll settle the claims in a just and expedient manner.”

“It’ll be a massive job,” Lake said gravely. “He’ll need every support.” The other members of the relief expedition nodded and murmured “yes.”

“It’s a great relief that almost no breadwinners were killed,” Squires said, looking out the window now.

“It is, sir,” Mosdell said. “But it is an extremely serious situation all the same because hundreds of fishermen are in no position to earn a living this coming fishing season.”

“Literally thousands of fishing outbuildings are destroyed, completely flattened,” Lake added. “It is no easy task to rebuild them, especially in winter and without easy access to lumber.”

“Quite a few of them are grief-stricken, too,” Campbell said. “Having lost relatives, wives even, to the tidal wave.”

Squires turned away from the window and nodded. For a moment, a white cast returned to his face. Then he said, “That may be so. But our people are tough and resourceful, especially those in the outports. And the committee will give them the means to rebuild. I have great faith that everything is in hand.”

He glanced around the ornate room.

“I thank you all, gentlemen, for the service you have rendered to our country as members of the relief expedition.”

Mosdell had been about to ask Squires about further assistance from the Newfoundland government, but the