Violet Isabel James was born in Douglas, Isle of Man, on the 26th March 1882, the daughter of John Fry and Sarah Ann James (née Weller). Her father was a dentist, once well known in Douglas but in May 1915 he had set up practice at Crosby, near Liverpool, Lancashire. Violet herself was a trained nurse, and had worked at the Dr. Barnardo’s Baby Castle, at Hawkhurst, Kent.
In October 1907, she had boarded the Kensington at Liverpool, and disembarked in Montreal, Quebec, Canada, on the 3rd November. She settled in Edmonton, Alberta, where she found employment with a Dr. Braithwaite. She was on a salary of $55.00 per month from Dr. Braithwaite, and supplemented this by earning an average of $35.00 per week as a private nurse.
In the spring of 1915, however, she decided to return to England and the Isle of Man, to visit relatives and enjoy a holiday, and also to volunteer her services as a war nurse. Thus, she booked as a third class passenger on what was to be the
Lusitania's final voyage and left Edmonton by rail for New York, to join the liner there, at the end of April 1915.
When the vessel was torpedoed and sunk, just six days after she had left New York, Violet James was fortunate enough to survive, despite being in the sea for a considerable time! Even after being landed at Queenstown, she was obviously still nervous about continuing her journey to Liverpool, as proved by the telegram she wired to her relatives in Douglas. It simply stated: -
"SO FAR SAVED; ARRIVED QUEENSTOWN, 9-30 P.M.."
She eventually wrote from London, of her experiences to her sister in the Isle of Man, and her letter was published in the Manx newspaper The Mona's Herald
in the edition of 19th May 1915. It said: -
At last I am able to write you a few lines from bed. Having felt so insufferably stiff, have done nothing beyond wiring you. I guess you all blame me crossing, being or supposed, I should say, to have been warned. But we passengers most innocently left New York City. Had I for one moment realised my danger up to the last moment I should have got off. My object in going via New York was because I thought it most safe, otherwise I would have gone via St John's N.B., and left on Hesperian. I cannot tell you much now. I feel too fagged. My limbs are bruised and very much swollen being in the water so long. Providence alone saved me.
I was on the main deck and saw the inevitable doom and was prepared either way. I kept my head and tried to calm others, but oh the scene! The lifeboats I tried to help push off the davits. They were chained. I went down with the boat and was blown up with the explosion, and struck out for a spar, and there remained for what must have been two and a half hours.
When the torpedo struck I was in my cabin I could scarcely believe my ears. However, the fact had to be faced, so I climbed up on the bunk and got my belt and put it on and then went along the alleyway, when the second explosion came. Some glass hit me, but I kept quite calm and walked along the starboard side and, with hundreds of others, climbed up the railings to the boat deck. I grazed my legs then. The order was given, women below and keep calm, when she was listing badly. I suppose they feared a terrible panic, and that was only bluff. I tried to get in a lifeboat but it was too full, and a sailor said, “No more lady'.”
The last I remember was facing the captain and second in command and they were facing me. Oh their faces when the water closed over. They put their hands up to their faces, poor men. Well down we went and came up. It was nice warm water, too. Then I struck out. Thank God I could swim! I have got my life belt with me, and I will bring it over and you may have it as a souvenir. This is an experience I shall never forget.
I came along with a party of survivors to London. One of the first-class passengers, an American woman, lost her husband. She hung on to me all the time and she got on my nerves. We went to the Ritz, and she pleaded with me to stay, but feeling as I did, I couldn't, for I wanted sleep. My throat sore - limbs aching. I brought her up, looked after her all along, and considered I had done my duty. However, I hadn't left her long before a special messenger called me back, but my doctor came to my rescue and 'phoned saying I was too ill and must stay in bed for a few days.
He came to see me twice yesterday and again today. I have promised Mrs. Billick (sic.) to return with her to Los Angeles, California, within the next month, so I shall have to pay you a rush visit. We sail under the American flag next, and will make sure of it, too.
The American lady, mentioned by Miss James, (her name was actually spelled
Bilicke), was travelling saloon class, from Los Angeles, with her husband, Albert C. Bilicke. Her husband was killed and his body was never recovered and identified.
Whilst back on the Isle of Man, Violet James successfully applied for financial help to The Lusitania Relief Fund, which was administered by The Lord Mayor of Liverpool and had been set up immediately after the sinking, to alleviate financial stress caused by the sinking, to both survivors and relatives of the dead.
She was first granted a payment of £15-0s-0d., but later in the summer when The Cunard Steam Ship Company paid her passage back to New York, the Relief Fund granted her an extra £7-7s-6d., (£7.37½p.), so that she could make her return to Edmonton. Violet James returned to New York on board the Saxonia on the 21st August 1915, and was not accompanied by Mrs. Bilicke, who returned to the United States of America on board the Philadelphia on the 26th May 1915. She obviously did not go through with her intention to offer her services as a war nurse.
Once back in Canada, Violet James submitted a claim to the Canadian Commission seeking $10,000 compensation for injuries received by her as a result of the sinking, and $1,000 for the loss of her personal belongings. In the evidence she presented in support of her claim, she stated that prior to sailing on the Lusitania, she had been the Superintendent of the Calgary Branch of the Victorian Order of Nurses. Due to the injuries that she had suffered, she was unable to carry on her duties as a nurse, and on returning to Canada, she secured a position as a night nurse in Riverdale Hospital, Toronto, Ontario. Within two or three weeks of gaining this position, she was taken ill again, and after a period of recuperation, she returned to Riverdale Hospital, but had to leave permanently six days later as she wasn’t able to perform her tasks.
In May 1924, evidence was heard in her case where it was stated that as recently as February 1923, she had been working in another hospital in Toronto, but lost her position as the superintendent at that hospital testified that, although Miss James was very conscientious in her duties, she was absent-minded and nervous. She was also ill a lot of the time that she was employed there, and was found not to be suitable for further employment.
The Commission awarded Violet James her full claim of $10,000 for personal injuries, however, they felt that the claim in respect of the loss of her personal belongings was excessive, and only allowed her $500, which was half of what she had originally claimed.
On the 3rd October 1925, Violet married James Clinton Post in Toronto, Ontario. She died in April 1961 in Kingsville, Essex, Ontario, aged 78 years.
Isle of Man Select Births and Baptisms 1821 – 1911, Ontario Canada Marriages 1785 – 1934, 1891 Isle of Man Census, 1901 Census of England & Wales, 1911 Census of Canada, Canadian Passenger Lists 1865 – 1935, New York Passenger Lists 1820 - 1957, Cunard Records, Canadian Claims Case No. 762, Liverpool Record Office, Edmonton Journal, Mona's Herald, Peel City Guardian and Chronicle, UniLiv D92/11, Graham Maddocks, Margery West, Geoff Whitfield, Michael Poirier, Jim Kalafus, Cliff Barry, Paul Latimer, Norman Gray.
Copyright © Peter Kelly.