Waves crashed over the deck of the James Carruthers as the crew pushed its engines.
Loaded with 375,000 bushels of wheat, they were trying to reach the safety of the coast.
They had left Fort William and were traveling to Midland, Ontario when a great storm descended on them like a beast.
With each wave, the ship fought to stay in one piece.
The ship was the largest Canadian vessel on the Great Lakes and was less than a year old, but size didn’t make vessels invincible, as the passengers and crew of the Titanic had learned a year earlier.
The Carruthers’ crew of 22 prayed they would make it through the night and avoid a similar fate.
Meanwhile from the safety of their homes people watched the storm on Lake Huron.
They heard the steamer distress whistles in the distance.
They helplessly watched as the ship’s rockets were fired and lit up the sky in dazzling colours.
Then…from land they watched as the lights of the ship flickered then… vanished.
The James Carruthers was gone.
But the ship’s demise is only part of the tale.
I’m Craig Baird, this is Canadian History Ehx and today I’m sharing the rest of the story and how the ship was a victim of the worst natural disaster to ever hit the Great Lakes.
This is…the White Hurricane of 1913.
The Great Lakes are truly…well…great. they hold 21 percent of the world’s surface fresh water and are more like inland seas that influence the climate of North America.
Formed 14,000 years ago by melting ice sheets at the end of the Last Glacial Period, they have shaped the land, and the history of the people who inhabit it.
12,000 years ago, First Nations gave them names like Gichigami, Karegnondi and Kanadario.
Each name meant something similar.
Great Lake and they became transportation corridors for trade networks that stretched for a thousand kilometres.
The lakes gave Indigenous people everything they needed.
Fresh water.
Ample food.
But they also knew that the lakes could take as much as they gave.
They could be extremely dangerous for anyone who ventured too far from shore.
Plus, snow squalls and thunderstorms could spring up at any moment.
But the greatest danger lurked from October to December and today we call her The Witch of November.
The Great Lakes are so large that they can create an intense low atmospheric pressure which pulls Arctic air from the Canadian Prairies.
You might know this as an Alberta Clipper.
But… when the lakes’ atmosphere also pulls warm air from the Gulf of Mexico at the same time it creates the monster known as the Witch of November.
The cold air meets the warm lake water, and the two systems create a recipe for disaster.
First Nations knew that these storms could spring up suddenly, and anyone on the lake would be lost.
But Europeans failed to listen and paid the price almost immediately.
On Aug. 7, 1679, Le Griffon, the first known sailing ship to travel on the Upper Great Lakes, launched near Cayuga Island on the Niagara River.
She crossed Lake Erie, Lake Huron and Lake Michigan through uncharted waters that only canoes had previously explored.
On 18 September she was traveling back toward Niagara when it vanished
Le Griffon has never been found.
She wouldn’t be the last.
It is estimated there are as many as 10,000 shipwrecks in the Great Lakes. \
And the most treacherous month for shipwrecks?
You guessed it.
November and the storms during that month have become legendary.
On Nov. 11, 1835, the witch swept through the Great Lakes claiming 17 ships that were lost, beached or capsized.
70 years later on Nov. 27 and 28, 1905, the Mataafa Storm destroyed or damaged nearly 30 vessels and killed 36 people.
And 70 years after that… the Edmund Fitzgerald sank in Lake Superior taking its entire crew of 29 men with it.
The sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald on November 10, 1975, remains one of the most well-known Great Lakes shipwrecks.
But the worst storm of all happened in between those disasters and it brought a vengeance to the lakes not seen before or after
Being able to predict the weather isn’t just about knowing when to golf, hike or if you should take an umbrella.
It’s about minimizing natural disasters.
That is what The National Weather Service in Canada discovered in 1873.
They knew in Toronto a hurricane was coming, but they had no way to warn the people of Nova Scotia because the telegraph lines were down and when it hit, it killed nearly 1,000 people. To stop this sort from happening in the future, the Canadian government upgraded its entire storm warning system.
By 1876, 24-hour weather forecasts were sent out coast-to-coast to post offices, telegraph offices and train stations at 10 am where they were posted on the wall.
Before long, the forecast appeared in newspapers.
For decades they were simple, usually just one line.
“Sunny, light winds from the south”.
No satellite maps. No seven-day forecasts.
It was imperfect, but it was better than nothing.
Because with that information, harbour masters raised flags at their ports.
And ship captains on the Great Lakes watched the flags with anticipation to make safe decisions as they transported cargo between the various ports.
All in the hopes of avoiding the worst… which is what happened when this simple forecasting system failed.
The first week of November 1913 was unseasonably warm on the Great Lakes.
It had been a stellar shipping season, and the good weather allowed freighters and ships to get extra runs in.
When they set out on that extended shipping season, they didn’t know a monster lurked in the West.
An Alberta Clipper was speeding from the Rocky Mountains towards Lake Superior.
On the morning of Nov. 6, 1913, it reached the western shores of Lake Superior.
However, the weather forecast was for brisk winds and some rain.
Across Lake Superior, Lake Huron and Lake Michigan, ships left ports loaded with cargo.
Seasoned Captains who had spent decades at the helm stared out at the waters, while crews readied for the journey.
None of them knew what was brewing over them.
The Cornell had left Whitefish Point on Lake Superior when she was hit by a powerful northerly gale that was so powerful it drove the ship towards the shore.
The captain ordered both anchors dropped, and the engines at full speed to fight the powerful system and keep the ship from shallow water.
For the next 23 hours, her propellers battled to keep the ship from the shore.
The Cornell’s battle was far from over, but she was the first ship to meet the monster and soon there would be more ships fighting for their lives.
(PAUSE)As the sun rose on Nov. 7, the storm that almost claimed The Cornell was raging over western Lake Superior.
Weather reports for the other lakes called for increased winds and falling temperatures over the next 24 hours, t greatly underestimating the power of mother nature. The storm was slowly making its way east, but Lake Superior is so large that it gave those on the far eastern side a false sense of calm.
Things for them didn’t seem that bad.
Captain Chauncey Nye of the John A. McGean was getting one more run for the season on Lake Superior.
The trip was expected to take a month as they stopped to unload coal for the winter.
Captain Nye hoped to be home by Dec. 16 to celebrate his anniversary with his wife Eve.
He knew a storm was coming, so he traveled near the shore for safety.
It was what any experienced captain would do.
By 10 a.m. on Nov 07 all 112 weather stations on Lake Superior, Lake Huron and Lake Michigan were hoisting a red flag with a black centre and a triangular maritime pennant below that.
In the days before widespread wireless communication, when most ships didn’t have a telegraph station, flags and lanterns were how ships were warned of an incoming storm.
And this signal was the second-highest warning. It indicated that there was an approaching storm with 89 km/h winds from the southwest.
Once the sun went down, the flags were replaced with a red lantern over a white one.
By then, the winds on Lake Superior were at 97 km/hr, with gusts as high as 130 km/h which were producing monster waves.
As ships did their best to stay ahead of the storm through the night, the Witch of November barrelled east.
On the morning of November 8th, the storm was upgraded to a severe storm by the weather service.
It was now centred over eastern Lake Superior but had grown so large that it covered the entire lake.
That means it covered 82,000 square kilometres and was larger than Ireland.
Gale wind flags were raised at more than 100 ports as dozens of ships raced to ports or havens, to wait out the worst of the storm.
Many captains and crews didn’t even want to be out on the water.
These experienced sailors knew the dangers of the Witch of November.
But ship owners pushed for one more trip.
One more bit of cargo to pad the bank accounts.
They told captains to ignore the forecasts and if they wanted to keep their jobs, they had to get in the water and head out.
The SS Hydrus was sailing towards the St. Clair River, the pathway to Lake Erie, when the witch caught her.
Waves rose 10 metres high and hit the ship, eventually swamping over the deck.
Like a hand reaching up from the depths, she was pulled down by the waves into the murky waters and was never to be seen again.
The storm was moving east and the edge of it hit Lake Michigan where the 52-metre L.C. Waldo was battling the waves.
She was 90 kilometres northeast of the Keweenaw Peninsula when a 15-metre-high wave slammed into her.
The wheelhouse took most of the hit and force bent the steel floor in the compass room.
It also swept the wheelman out of the room and destroyed three walls on the level below.
The captain wasn’t going to risk it, so he ordered the ship to turn around and head to the safety of the Keweenaw Peninsula.
As she did, the rudder failed and left the ship dead in the water as waves pushed her into the rocks of Manitou Island.
The rocks shredded her hull as great cracks tore through the deck.
But this was a blessing in disguise.
If she stayed on the rocks, she would not sink.
The captain ordered the ship flooded to weigh her down and prevent the waves from washing her out.
The chief engineer then ran the ship full power to wedge her further into the rocks.
Meanwhile Captain Nye had not been deterred by the clearly posted storm warnings as he sailed out of Sandusky, Ohio into Lake Erie a day earlier.
He knew a great northwest gale was ravaging Lake Superior when he headed into Lake Huron and chose to run the McGean along the Michigan shore hoping to be safe from the worst of the storm.
But now, the John A. McGean was struggling against the blizzard conditions and waves that were at times 11 metres high.
By now it was nighttime, and a wave hit the keel and bent it to a 45-degree angle.
The ship lost one of her propeller blades and like the L.C. Waldo, she was dead in the water.
Adrift, waves slammed into her, taking out the wheelhouse and the stove in the engine room.
The holds quickly flooded, and the crew had only moments to whisper their last goodbyes before she was lost beneath the waves.
The McGean was last seen by residents watching from Taras Point, Michigan.
Captain Nye and his wife Eve never celebrated their anniversary that December.
Meanwhile on Lake Michigan, The Plymouth, was an American Schooner barge and one of the smaller ships at 64 metres in length.
It left port with a cargo of cedar posts and was being towed by the tug James H. Martin from Menominee, Michigan, United States to Lake Huron.
The Plymouth was one of the oldest on the lakes and had entered service in 1854 and saw action in the American Civil War.
On the Plymouth were Captain Alex Larson, six crew and a US marshal who was on board due to several lawsuits against the owners of the ship.
While being towed through Lake Michigan, both ships were unaware that they were heading straight into the path of the storm.
The tugboat towed the Plymouth to the safest waters nearby which were located at the mouth of Green Bay.
The tug line was then cut, and the little boat left to seek shelter 19 kilometres away.
The Plymouth dropped anchor and like so many other ships on the lakes that night, waited for this storm to pass.
As the sun rose on November 9th, conditions on lakes Superior and Huron appeared to be returning to normal.
The Isaac Merritt Scott was heading out of Milwaukee loaded with $22,000 in coal. As the low-pressure that had sat over Lake Superior traveled northeast and away from the lakes.
Winds suddenly subsided and the barometer started to rise.
Weather forecasters and crews on ships hoped that this would be the end of the storm.
The Isaac Merritt Scott took advantage of the nice weather and was seen by The H.B. Hawgood steaming ahead on that day.
The ship was never seen afloat again.
That’s because the captain had no idea that a new storm from the south was traveling up the eastern seaboard of the United States.
Through the morning, the storm slowly moved north and caused a counterclockwise rotation of the system when it collided with the storm over Lake Superior and Lake Huron, causing a wind speeds to increase dramatically as massive waves formed.
Lake Superior and Lake Huron was walloped by this weather bomb system with hurricane-force winds.
On Lake Huron, ships attempted to escape by heading to the southern shore, but wind gusts of 140 km/h made crossing the lake dangerous, if not impossible.
The SS Regina was travelling north on Lake Huron from Point Edward, Ontario when the storm descended upon her.
Captain McConkey decided to get her into a safe harbour, but the high winds and large waves pushed her away from safety.
With no choice, he anchored 11 kilometres offshore and ordered his crew to abandon ship.
The SS Regina couldn’t be saved.
The crew, in a tiny boat, tried to make it to shore as the storm was sinking giant ships with ease.
Elsewhere, Captain Lyons of the J.H. Sheadle was trying to keep his ship from vanishing in the storm.
Each wave shook the ship, and the crew expected the worst at any moment.
Lyons wrote quote,
“The bell rang for supper at 3:45 P.M., which was prepared and the tables set, when a gigantic sea mounted our stern, flooding the fantail, sending torrents of water through the passageways on each side of the cabin, concaving the cabin, breaking the windows in the after cabin, washing our provisions out of the refrigerator and practically destroying them all, leaving us with one ham and a few potatoes…Volumes of water came down on the engine through the upper skylights, and at times there were from four to six feet of water in the cabin.” end quote
In heavy snow, high waves, and near-zero visibility conditions Captain Lyons managed to turn the ship multiple times on Lake Huron to maintain a course that kept the waves at her stern hoping to keep her afloat.
Across the lake on Manitoulin Island the L.C. Waldo was still wedged in the rocks.
22 men, two women and a dog huddled together soaking wet with no food, as temperatures dropped to near freezing.
To keep everyone warm, the chief engineer grabbed a tub from the captain’s quarters, as well as fire buckets, to create a crude stove and chimney.
They broke all the furniture to start a fire.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough warmth to prevent hypothermia.
And then luck shone on them.
Before the ship was encased in ice, the George Stephenson happened to be travelling nearby and saw her distress flag.
The crew sent a message to a local lightkeeper who relayed that alert to the life saving station nearby.
One of the crew members of the L.C. Waldo wrote,
“We saw a grotesque ghostly shape top a wave, poise on its crest for a moment, then sink out of sight. As the wave slipped under it and it went racing on, the object again came into view, it was nearer and the mystery was explained, and with understanding the watchers felt warming blood leap into their chilled veins.”
The crew members of the ship, some wearing towels around their head for warmth, others sock for mittens, were loaded into the life saving boat.
Through a miracle, there were no casualties.
They had survived 96 hours shipwrecked in the storm.
But not all crews were as fortunate.
The SS Argus was battling Lake Huron when it was hit by two large waves.
One hit the bow and the other the stern.
Captain Walter Iler on a nearby ship watched it happen and said he saw the Argus being lifted into the air by the waves as she cracked into two pieces.
Iler said later,
“The Argus seemed to crumple like an eggshell. Then she was gone.”
She took with her the entire crew.
The SS Hydrus, sister ship of the Argus, was also lost in the storm as was the Leafield, sailing on Lake Superior which sank in the night along with the 18 crew on board.
As the sun dawned on Lake Superior on Nov 10, the Cornell had been fighting hard against the storm for four days.
At 5 a.m., a huge wave crashed into her side and tore away part of the aft-cabin and destroyed doors and windows as crew’s quarters and galley filled with water.
Assistant engineer Earl Rattray wrote quote.
“We’re nearly broke in two, anchors gone, windlass a wreck. Houses stove in, furniture wrecked and just a cripple from stem to stern.”
At one point, First Assistant Jack Kittel, said “Goodbye kiddies” as he waited for the cold waters of the lake to rush in. He truly believed he would never see his children again.
Things looked dire, and as the storm moved east, it caused a lake effect blizzard.
These are created when the temperature is low enough to keep precipitation frozen and can include lightning and thunder and, in rare cases, tornadoes.
In 1913 it wasn’t that dramatic, but it did drop 40 centimetres of snow around Lake Superior and Lake Huron.
Some snowdrifts were 1.8 metres high.
And the storm continued to claim lives.
On Lake Huron, sailors saw a ship floating bottom side up. The entire ship was coated in ice and could not be identified.
At first it was believed to be the Charles S. Price, but it was soon identified as the SS Regina.
By the end of the day, the ship was at the bottom of the lake.
Around that same time, the tugboat James H. Martin returned to it had left the Plymouth anchored two days earlier.
They found no ship, just open water.
The Plymouth was gone.
Meanwhile on Lake Superior by 10 p.m., that day, the Cornell finally reached Toledo, Ohio.
The battered ship’s crew breathed a sigh of relief.
They had fought for 68 hours and survived.
First Assistant Jack Kittel would see his children again.
Assistant engineer Earl Rattray said,
“We’ve got our smokestack yet, but that’s about all there was left on deck, and there certainly was no boat any nearer gone than we are and came through.”
After five days the storm finally moved towards eastern Canada.
Without the lakes powering the system, it quickly lost strength.
But it left behind a path of destruction that became a legendary tale told by old mariners at bars across the Great Lakes.
Nineteen ships were severely damaged, another 12 lost along with 250 killed.
. Financial losses were over $5 million, with a total loss of cargo of 68,300 tons.
As the sun shone above the snow that now blanketed the Great Lakes Along the beach’s locals began the grim process of looking for bodies that littered the shore.
On Nov. 12, three men were found lashed to a lifeboat from the John A. McGean. The men were covered in ice and were identified by papers found in their pockets.
Two more were found two days later.
Five crew members from the SS Hydrus made it to a lifeboat before their ship went down. Sadly, they were found days later frozen to death.
The crew who had escaped the SS Regina in lifeboats were found after the storm. None lived to tell the tale as two were found dead on a capsized lifeboat, while another ten were found on a beach nearby.
On Nov. 22, a bottle was discovered floating on Lake Michigan. Inside was a note from Marshal Chris Keenan, who had been on the Plymouth.
It stated,
“Dear wife and Children. We were left up here in Lake Michigan by McKinnon, captain James H. Martin tug at anchor. He went away and never said goodbye or anything to us. Lost one man yesterday. We have been out in storm forty hours. Goodbye dear ones, I might see you in Heaven. Pray for me. P.S. I felt so bad I had another man write for me. Goodbye forever.”
Weeks later, on Dec. 11, 1913, the body of Captain A. McArthur of the Isaac Merritt Scott was found, still wearing a life preserver, on a beach near Southampton, Ontario.
Later, a lifeboat was found 37 kilometres out on the lake. None of the 28 crew from the Isaac Merritt Scott survived.
Six months after the storm, the body of Edward McConkey, the captain of the Regina, washed up near Goderich, Ontario.
Since his body was found so long after the others, it is believed that he ordered his crew to abandon the ship and like many other captains on doomed vessels, he chose to go down with his ship.
The White Hurricane claimed ships and souls and became part of the region’s folklore as people talked about when the lakes would reveal their secrets.
The SS Argus, which broke in two, was discovered in 1972. She rests upside down 76 metres beneath the waters of Lake Huron.
The Isaac Merritt Scott was lost for 63 years until it was located by divers a few years later in 1976.
She was half buried in mud 55 metres below the water and resting upside down. It was believed a rogue wave hit her, causing her to roll and sink immediately.
The John A. McGean remained lost for about a decade more until she was found in 1985.
A year later, the SS Regina was found upside down under 24 metres of water. Thousands of artifacts were taken from the ship, including hundreds of intact bottles of Scotch and champagne.
Then the lakes held on to their secrets for almost 30 years until the summer of 2015, when the wreck of the SS Hydrus was found 48 metres below the waters of Lake Huron.
Her bow was twisted at a 45-degree angle, likely hit by a monster wave.
Everything else was intact including the ship’s wheelhouse and telegraph room.
Encrusted in zebra mussels, she still holds the iron ore that was meant for a port on one last trip before the White Hurricane hit.
And yet some ships from that great storm are still missing.
The James Carruthers and the Plymouth still rest under the water, hidden from view and waiting to be discovered.
