The Halifax Explosion

When I lived in downtown Portland for a bit I was struck by how many young people simply walked off the sidewalk and into the street without looking first. Just walked out blindly. Expecting cars to stop for them. I’d like to blame their parents, or their suburban upbringing, or portable music players for their nonchalance and devil-may-care attitude. But it was my daughter who clarified things for me. When I chastised her for not looking both ways at the crosswalk one day (she was quite old enough to know better), she said, “Well, I have the right of way.” To which I replied, “Perhaps, but it will still hurt when you’re hit by a car.” She conceded the point.

There are many rules of marine navigation. Most are based on hard experience born of stupidity, or arrogance, or both. Much like driving, there is a golden rule in maritime law that says something along the lines of: whether you have the legal right of way or not, you should do whatever is necessary to avoid a collision. In other words, you are under an obligation not to put yourself in harm’s way, just as much as the other fellow is obligated not to harm you. Pragmatism like this underpins much of common law.

Early on December 7, 1917, the unladen Norwegian freighter SS Imo left Bedford Basin in Halifax to pick up relief supplies in New York. Transiting the Narrows, a strait between Bedford Basin and the outer part of Halifax Harbor, ships were supposed to keep to the right of the channel in both directions, allowing them to pass port-to-port, as is customary.

The Imo was in a hurry. She had been delayed a day by problems loading her coal. Finally cleared to leave, she entered the Narrows at ‘excessive speed’. She had to maneuver around an American steamer, the SS Clara, whose pilot was on the wrong side of the channel, forcing both ships to pass starboard-to-starboard. Next, to avoid tangling with a tugboat, the Imo moved even further to the left side of the channel, well into the path of an inbound French cargo ship, the SS Mont-Blanc. Unbeknownst to most anyone in Halifax (to avoid tipping off the German U-boats), the Mont-Blanc was stuffed to the scuppers with TNT, picric acid (an explosive), benzole (a highly flammable fuel), and guncotton.

Now in the Narrows, the SS Imo is a Portland Pearl District hipster running late for a latte. Meanwhile, the SS Mont-Blanc is a Peterbilt truck hauling a thermonuclear warhead with a hair trigger. The Mont-Blanc knows it has the right of way. The Imo presses forward anyway. The two ships exchange horn blasts. Neither yields until it’s too late. At 8:45am, at low speed, they hit each other in a shower of sparks. A fire breaks out. Fifteen minutes later, just as the townsfolk have gathered at their windows to watch the unfolding disaster, the Mont-Blanc atomises in the biggest non-nuclear explosion in history.

Two thousand people were killed almost instantaneously. Nine thousand more were severely injured by molten iron shrapnel from the ship, flying glass from their windows, and the storm of debris from thousands of destroyed buildings. The entire neighborhood of Richmond was flattened by a pressure wave that was felt on Prince Edward Island, over a hundred miles away. For a city of 65,000 it was devastating.

Help came quickly. Notably from Boston which sent medical aid, doctors, nurses, and relief support. While most of the costs of rebuilding were provided by the federal government and the British, Massachusetts gave $750,000 in financial aid, the equivalent of $15M today. Every year, Halifax sends Boston a Christmas tree as its way of saying thanks for its help. Unbroken, Halifax rose from the ashes with the help of town planners and architects to become the thriving city it is today.

And what of the investigation and trial that followed? This being eastern Canada at the turn of the last century, the French, at first, were blamed. The argument? Knowing their cargo, the Mont-Blanc should have done everything possible to avoid an accident. Eventually, the case made its way to the Privy Council in London, at the time the closest thing Britain’s colonies had to a Supreme Court. The Council determined both ships were equally to blame for navigational errors leading up to the accident.

Having the right of way guarantees you nothing, especially when the other party is much bigger or more volatile than you are. As an experienced, tire-worn bicyclist my appreciation for vulnerability is at least somewhat heightened. It’s simply safer to assume you are invisible on the road and every car is out to kill you.

Has all this affected my judgement on Aleta? Heck, yes! I’ll even give way to powerboats when I’m on starboard tack if I’m in any doubt about the other captain’s ability to handle their vessel – which is most of the time.