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The Empress left Quebec City on May 28, with 1,477 people, on a routine voyage across to England. It was still in the St. Lawrence shortly after 1 a.m., when a deep fog moved in, not long after the Empress had spotted another vessel, the collier Storstad, a few miles away.

A timeline in the four-part exhibition counts down to disaster. Two ships are lost in the fog. Horns and signals blow warnings between ships, but then, too late, the heavy Storstad, with a hull built to cut through ice, emerges from the fog and strikes the Empress broadside, cutting a deep hole.

The end came cruelly fast. Passengers scrambled for life boats or leapt into the cold water, often without a lifejacket. Others were trapped below decks. In only 15 minutes the Empress of Ireland was gone, with more than 1,000 souls.

It’s curious how every Canadian knows about the Titanic, while probably knowing little or nothing about the Empress of Ireland. The Titanic, of course, has been a favourite of Hollywood. It scarred the national psyches of the United States and the United Kingdom, and overshadowed any Canadian experience. “It’s always like this, we’re tragically Canadian,” sighs curator John Willis. “Our story is not as well known, and yet it is very tragic indeed.”

The exhibition strives to recreate the voyage. It opens with wall-sized, period photographs of Quebec City and the docks. There are artifacts from the Empress, retrieved from the wreck by diver Phillippe Beaudry. The sound of water and seagulls fills the space. A shattered port hole sets a foreboding tone.

Part two shows life on board. First-class passengers eat from fancy dishes and relax on deck chairs, while those below make their own amusements. “It was quite a delight [to] go and sit down where we wouldn’t hardly be seen and watch those fancy (first class) ladies all dressed up with their fancy gowns on,” wrote Mary Hill, from second class. Artifacts abound, perhaps none more poignant than a lost, tattered shoe.