Shipwreck

Legendary Lifesaving Captain Trudell’s Premonitions

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Dreams of the Dead

Author’s Note: From the files of the odd, strange, and curious, this is a story that first appeared in Bloodstoppers and Bearwalkers by Richard M. Dorson.  I thought it would be an ideal tale to repeat for the month of October. Captain Trudell and his crew of life savers built a reputation as one of the finest crews on the Great Lakes. Heroic rescues were their stock in trade.

The narrator of the story, Capt Trudell working out his Life Saving Crew at Grand Marais, Michigan

A postcard of the Grand Marais Life Saving Crew under the leadership of Captain Benjamin Trudell.

Captain Benjamin Trudell was the Captain of the Grand Marais Life Saving Station.  Having participated in many daring rescues, Trudell kept a secret through the years. Captain Trudell makes a confession, “If there is any event of importance happening, I dream about it in advance. I always have. My mother was the same way. She told me I would be gifted with unusual things. Anything important in my work, in my business, I dream of and when it happens the next morning, I remember it. It’s not exactly the same, you know, but the conditions are similar.

“During my second year in the Life Saving Service, in 1892, I was stationed at Deer Park (a ghost town east of Grand Marais). I was called to go on watch at 12 o’clock midnight, so I went to bed and slept from eight till twelve, and the dream happened at the very time a sinking was going on.

“I dreamed I met a man on the beach, coming towards me. He appeared to be an acquaintance, yet I was doubtful as he got nearer. He was very nicely, finely dressed. As I approached him, he held out his hand to shake hands, but his hand was cold and clammy, and I couldn’t hold the grasp.  Then he turned and walked towards the water and dissolved into the surf.

” I was awakened standing in the middle of the dormitory, wet with perspiration. The relief watch was holding a lighted lantern up to my face. asking, ‘What is the matter?’

Next Day Tragedy

“That morning at the breakfast table, seven of us were messing together, and I recited the dream to them. They laughed at me, but I said, ‘Watch out.’ As the day wore on and nothing happened, they all began to make fun of me, even the Captain.

“It was blowing a three-day gale, with high seas from the north-west. About two o’clock that afternoon a man stumbled into the station, stating he had been on a wreck and had been washed ashore, the only survivor. Not knowing the direction of any town he followed along the beach until he arrived at Deer Park Life Saving Station. I was called to take the beach patrol west, and I was the first one ashore. There was the body of a man lying on his face, stretched out. He was finely dressed, and appeared to be an aristocrat. As we rolled him over, his hand flipped over and struck mine. And I saw he was the man of my dream. The resemblance was very noticeable.  He had a mustache, but no chin whiskers. His clothes were not wet in the dream, though.

“He was Peter G. Minch, millionaire owner of the Western Reserve, the first steel ship to go down in the lakes.

Sinking of the Western Reserve

” The Western Reserve was the flagship of the Minch fleet of fourteen cargo vessels, a record-breaking three-hundred footer. On this trip Peter Minch was taking his family pleasure sailing from the Soo to Two Harbors, Minnesota, there to load up with ore. Proud in the strength of his ship, he sailed beyond Whitefish Point and Point Iroquois into the storm, against the advice of Captain Albert Meyers. The decks buckled before the gale, and about nine o’clock, the evening of April 30th, the steel freighter split in two. Passengers and crew scrambled into a metallic lifeboat and a yawl, and when the lifeboat capsized, all cambered into the yawl. A steamer passed to the west and the huddled group tried to burn a shawl as a signal, without success. The yawl coasted from this point, about twenty-five miles north of Grand Marais, until seven-twenty the following morning, when  it overturned in the surf, some fifteen miles west of Deer Park and the Life Saving Station. All the occupants were drowned except the wheelman, Harry Stewart, who snatched a life preserver and made shore at Lonesome Point. It was Stewart, ( a cousin of Trudell) who lurched into the station bringing news of the wreck.

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SS Athabasca SS Pontiac Collision – St. Mary’s River – Sault Ste Marie

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Two Ships and a Load of Dynamite

An early picture of the SS Athabasca.

The SS Athabasca the ship that rammed the S.S Pontiac.

For those that don’t know, the St. Mary’s River supports the shipping for much of this country’s and Canada’s economy. The river connects Lake Superior with Lake Huron and any ships that travel to or come from Lake Superior must travel through its winding course. The waterway is dotted with islands which narrow the travelable route in many places. As long as there has been ships and boats on the Great Lakes, the St. Mary’s River has provided the route for water transportation.

It is not surprising then, like the rest of the Great Lakes, the St. Mary’s River has seen shipping accidents and shipwrecks along its course. This sets the stage for the story of a collision in 1891. Two ships, one downbound and one upbound, collide in the mid-morning hours in a deadly accident.

On July 14 between the hours of 10 and noon, reports vary on the exact time, an ore carrier by the name of the steamship Pontiac, owned by Cleveland Mining Company (eventually Cleveland Cliffs Mining Company), was downbound on the St. Mary’s River when it was rammed by a passenger ship named the Athabasca owned by the Canadian Pacific Railway.

The Athabasca struck the Pontiac so hard, that it tore a hole in the Pontiac’s bow that was nearly 25 feet deep causing the Pontiac to sink within two minutes. The ship sank in 30 feet of water leaving a portion of the top deck above water. The Athabasca sailed on and made it to Sault Ste. Marie carrying a large portion of the Pontiac’s upper decking lodged on its bow like a trophy of conquest.

Eyewitness Account of the Wreck

An account of the collision is given by one of the crew members of the Athabasca in one of the newspapers at the time.

“When approaching the Pontiac, the barge blew two whistles, the signal to pass on the port side. The Athabasca whistled she would do so. As the two steamers approached each other the Pontiac whistled for the Athabasca to take the other side and changed her course with that object. Capt. Foote, of the Athabasca, however kept his course seeing it was too late to avoid a collision and the Athabasca’s bow struck the Pontiac about ten feet from the bow, cutting into her massive frame with a series of terrific crashing reports as the pats gave away. She is said to have penetrated the barge to a distance of twenty-five feet! The unlucky wheelsman, who was in his berth, lay right in the path of destruction and was taken out a few minutes later, with both legs broken and his head horribly crushed. He died after suffering some hours. When the Athabasca was released from the barge, she carried with her some 10 or 12 feet of the upper deck which had been nearly lifted onto her forward deck in the collision. The Pontiac went down within two minutes afterward and lies with all of her promenade deck above water, a most imposing wreck as she is represented in the photographs taken soon after the disaster. She is the largest barge on American waters, a magnificent iron vessel sixty feet longer than the Athabasca and was one of the three monsters built at Buffalo in 1889 for the Cleveland Iron Mining Company. The iron ore with which she was loaded will have to be removed before she can be raised. The shock of the collision on the Athabasca was severe but happily no one on either steamer was hurt with the exception of the wheelsman on the Pontiac.

“It was nearly noon when the accident occurred and the tables on the Athabasca were being laid for lunch. The dishes and edibles were sent flying in every direction, much to the damage of the carpet of the elegant saloon. The noise of the collision was frightful, and those within, especially, those who knew nothing of the danger until the shock came, remember the feeling they then experienced as long as they will live. The Athabasca is said to have been moving very slowly, and it is now reported that she was backing up at the time of the collision. However this may be, it appears to have been the opinion of the passengers that the Athabasca’s Capt. Foote was not to blame. The Athabasca carried the Pontiac’s Captain Lowes and crew to Sault Ste. Marie, except a few men who were left in charge of the sunken vessel. The Athabasca remained there until midnight on Saturday when she left for Detroit where she will undergo repairs.” – Meaford Monitor, July 1891.

The SS Pontiac on the bottom of the St. Mary's River with the top deck still exposed.

The SS Pontiac sunk after being rammed. The top part of the deck still above water.

There arose considerable controversy over the erratic behavior of Capt. Lowes and the Pontiac. He was known for being a bit of a showoff and felt his ship was hot stuff. He had a reputation for hogging the waterways with his shiny new, larger than everyone else’s, ship. Soon accusations flew from both sides, American and Canadian. Some said that the Athabasca had run into the Pontiac on purpose. According to most accounts, if it wasn’t for Capt. Foote’s quick thinking it might have been the Athabasca that was rammed with all of their passengers aboard. There was one other detail which may have influenced Capt. Foote’s thinking.

A Load of Dynamite!

The Athabasca was owned by the Canadian Pacific Railroad. Earlier on the Athabasca was tasked with picking up a small load of dynamite for use on a CPR project. Capt. Foote objected to doing this but the company insisted so the Athabasca took it aboard. This was on Foote’s mind when the encounter with the Pontiac occurred. If the Athabasca would have been rammed by the Pontiac, the possible resulting explosion from the cargo of dynamite could have gave this a much worse outcome. It is very possible the Captain did ram the Pontiac on purpose to prevent the Pontiac from hitting it and setting off the dynamite.

Due to pressure from insurance companies, Capt. Foote of the Athabasca was fired though the company didn’t blame him. He remained on good terms with them until his death. The blame for the collision rest squarely on the shoulders of Captain Lowes and his arrogance with his ship. Capt. Foote had no choices, it was ram or be rammed. Carrying a load of dynamite, it was really no choice at all.

For more information go here: Athabasca (1883): Maritime History of the Great Lakes

The SS Pontiac side view of the damage from the Athabasca.

Another view of the sunken SS Pontiac.

Wreck of the Steamship Oregon in Lake Superior – Marquette, Michigan

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The shipwreck of the steamship Oregon washed ashore near Middle Island Point north of Marquette, Michigan. (Courtesy of Mikel B Classen Historical Pictures Collection)

Shipwrecks are always a fascinating subject but not all of them end up in terrible tragedy. Such is the case of the wreck of the Oregon which took place north of Marquette in Lake Superior.

The Oregon was a steamer freighter, one of the earlier incarnations of the freighters we see today. On October 15, 1905, it wasn’t ore she was carrying, but lumber. The Oregon was steaming west across Lake Superior when the wind began to pick up. The Lake Superior surf rose and the ship began a rough ride. Behind her was another ship that was being towed, an old schooner named S.H. Foster being used as a barge. They were on their way to Pequaming in the Keweenaw Bay.

Near Stannard Rock, almost the precise middle of Lake Superior, things were getting ugly. The schooner barge was pulling hard and the strain on the engines were getting intense. Captain Elliot, the skipper of the Oregon was a well seasoned sailor and was pushing his ship as quickly as he could. He knew the brewing storm would be one the Oregon might not survive if she were caught in the middle of Lake Superior.

The wind roared, the waves rose, and a steam pipe burst. It was the main steam pipe and it split open for two/thirds of its length. The Chief Engineer, Wellman, wrestled loose a length of chain and wrapped it as tight as he could. The repair was fragile and inadequate for the job ahead. The Engineer told the Captain exactly that the repair wouldn’t last and they needed to find shelter for the the ship as soon as possible.

Consulting his charts the Captain decided to head for Partridge Island north of Marquette. He was sure they could ride the storm out in what was then called Wahoo Bay, the inlet between Partridge Island and Middle Island Point.  He reduced speed hoping that lessening the strain would make the repair hold until shelter. The schooner still trailed behind. Its skeleton crew of five men were  keeping the ship on an even keel but that was becoming harder as the wind kept building with gusts hitting 48 miles per hour.

At 2 am Partridge Island loomed out of the blackness. Great granite boulders lined the passage into the island’s lee side. A danger frought passage in the daylight, it was a miracle of steerage that got them beyond the deadly rocks and reefs. Suddenly the ship lost power and a new problem arose. The ships propeller had tangled in a fish net. because of the blown steam pipe the ship didn’t have the power to tear free. The Oregon was at the mercy of the storm.

With no control the crew of the Oregon cut the S. H. Foster loose to fend for itself. The wind caught the Oregon broadside and washed it ashore. The schooner’s luck held when its anchor caught on a rock crevasse and held. She was in the lee of Gull Rock.

The Marquette Life Saving Station was notified and they loaded their equipment and surfboat onto a wagon and headed north. It was over seven miles to the wreck site and took them nearly two hours to get there.

When they got there they decided to wait and see what happened. Both ships seemed stable where they were, so they waited and watched ready to spring into action should events call for it. But both ships rode the storm out where they were. As the gale died, the lifesavers left.

The schooner was able to sail into Marquette while the owners of the Oregon, a Chicago company, hired the Great Lakes Towing Company to get the ship offshore and back into the water. The tug Wisconsin did the work and after 24 hours of pulling and jerking the tug got the Oregon free.

After an initial inspection, the Oregon was towed to Detroit and there she was dry docked. Her fate would be eventually decided as scrap metal. By some miracle, No one was hurt or lost on either ship during the entire incident. Captain Elliot would later claim it was the worst storm he’d ever been in during his years sailing the Great Lakes.