Buntings and Icebergs

Decked in bunting, schooled in her curtsies, excited and nervous as a schoolgirl, Canada last week anxiously awaited the most important event in her life since Wolfe landed with his Army under the bluffs of Quebec 180 years ago to wrest the country from the French for Britain. George VI, by the Grace of God, of Great Britain, Ireland and of the British Dominions Beyond the Seas, King, and his Queen, Elizabeth, were coming a-visiting--the first sovereign visit in Canada's history.

Spring snow still lingered on the broad slopes of the St. Lawrence and on the heights of Quebec, Their Majesties' debarkation point. Scotland Yard men busily spotted cranks and radicals, gave last-minute tips to Dominion constabulary on how to guard their King and Queen. Four royal maroon Royal automobiles, two long (155-inch wheelbase), fur-rugged Buicks, a Chrysler and a Ford, were ready for Their Majesties and one toured Quebec's narrow crooked streets, testing sharp turns. Priests and nuns rehearsed 25,000 school children for a pageant of greeting to Their Majesties on the Plains of Abraham. Kiwanians, Rotarians, Knights of Columbus got final instructions in how to cheer. (Raise hat, give three lusty cheers. Then hold hat in the right hand over the left breast as Their Majesties pass by.) Cameraddicts were warned that they might: 1) take no flashlight pictures; 2) make no attempts to influence Their Majesties to watch the birdie. St. Maurice Valley Sportsman Jean Crete and a corps of assistants angled for 450 speckled trout for the Quebec specialty Truite Mouchetee de la Maurice to be served at the Government dinner at the Chateau Frontenac. In Montreal, original seating arrangements for a civic banquet had to be altered and round tables replaced when officials belatedly realized that no one may sit with his back to the King. At the Chateau gold-plated microphones were installed for the King's first speech. Towns along the St. Lawrence heaped bonfires, decked railway stations. At Callander, Dr. Allan Roy Dafoe got his morning coat out of mothballs and the Dionne quintuplets practiced pretty curtsies in preparation for their trip to Toronto to meet King George and Queen Elizabeth. Governor General Lord Tweedsmuir (Author John Buchan) collected a library for Their Majesties, books on Canadian life, political works and novels, including a mystery called Blood Royal.

Meanwhile, as Canada fussed over last-minute details for Their Majesties' 26-day train tour of the Dominion (and five-day visit to the U. S.), the liner Empress of Australia, bearing their precious persons from England, groped through blinding fog, shied away from towering icebergs and treacherous, low-floating "growlers," made hooting, painfully slow progress westward. It was a bad crossing from the start. Three days out George had to muffle up and Elizabeth stayed mostly indoors as a 60-mile gale whipped the Empress, tossing up mighty waves that washed over her gunwales. The wallowing sent many of the retinue discreetly to their cabins, but Their Majesties proved fine sailors. In the teeth of the gale, they watched the battle cruiser Repulse pick up a cask of mail dropped from the Empress and turn about for home, the crew singing as a parting salute, a gale-borne toast, Here's Health Unto His Majesty.

Next day, while Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret Rose went elephant riding in London Zoo back home, Their Majesties watched one of the remaining escort, the cruiser Southampton, in an anti-aircraft demonstration, peppering a black smoke shell cloud with hits that puffed white against it. Another day, and on the second anniversary of Their Majesties' coronation, the cruisers fired a 21-gun salute, and George issued the welcome order to "splice the main brace" (extra grog for all hands). Three hundred and fifty miles off Cape Race, 1,350 miles from Quebec, the Empress' experienced crew got a whiff of the dank, penetrating "smell of icebergs." Soon the bergs showed up, scant hundreds of yards off the Empress' bows. A cold fog settled down over the liner. The escort cruisers anxiously nosed ahead, and on the Empress the siren sounded mournful blasts at intervals as it slowed to a halt. Thenceforth Vice-Admiral Sir Dudley North allowed the Royal flotilla to proceed only with extreme caution. In four-and-a-half days it advanced only 172 miles. On the Empress, George and Elizabeth invited all hands to movie shows of travel films and Walt Disney cartoons, got into a discussion over whether icebergs should be called "he" or "she." On Saturday His Majesty's Surgeon Captain Henry Ellis Yeo White and the Empress' Dr. Joseph Maxwell made an emergency trip to the Glasgow, took out the appendix of a seaman.

All day Sunday the Empress nudged warily through ice and fog. In Quebec, where no Sunday newspapers are published, wild rumors spread, the wildest being that the Royal flotilla was dodging not ice but German submarines. By Sunday night, however, the liner had found clear weather, and steamed full speed for port. Scheduled for Monday, the elaborate welcoming ceremonies at Quebec had to be set back two days. Unwilling to slight the French population in Quebec and Montreal, Dominion officials cut the two days off Ottawa's scheduled four-day celebration. If all then went well, this would bring Their Majesties exactly on schedule to Toronto and the Quintuplets.

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