The Haunting of Captain McLean
(Wreck of the Hudson)
By James Donahue
The freighter John M. Nicol was in trouble. The boat had been fighting a fierce northeaster on Lake Superior for several hours on the morning of September 16, 1901, and her seams were starting to open. The pumps were not keeping up with the water surging into her vast hold. Then, just about dawn, chief engineer George E. Tretheway called Capt. William “Bill” McLean to the engine room to give him some more bad news. He showed McLean how the boat’s steam pipes were starting to work loose because of the wild wrenching and twisting the vessel’s hull was taking. “This boat can’t stand the strain much longer,” Tretheway warned
McLean had the Nicol steaming hard for the shelter of Michigan’s Keweenaw Peninsula, racing against time to save his command. He reasoned that once he got the Nicol close enough to land, if things got too bad he would drive the boat aground to save the twenty-one members of his crew. He spoke of his alternative plan to Tretheway. This was his state of mind at about 10:00 AM when the Nichol came upon the steamer Hudson in a sinking condition, about eight miles off Eagle River.
The Hudson was caught in the rough of the seas, her engines obviously cold because there was no smoke coming from her twin stacks, and she was listing hard to starboard. The seas were rolling over the Hudson’s slanting decks. Men could be seen huddled together near the bow, clinging to the port railing. It was obvious to McLean that the Hudson had developed engine trouble during the height of the storm, could not keep under way, then fell off to the mercy of the wind and waves. Because of the severe rolling, her cargo of twenty-two thousand five hundred bushels of flax seed and sixty-nine thousand bushels of wheat had shifted. By the time the Nicol arrived, the Hudson was within minutes of foundering.
McLean now had a hard decision to make. Should he attempt to rescue those sailors aboard the Hudson and risk losing his own crippled command? His choice was to save the Nicol. It was a decision that would haunt McLean the rest of his life. “We passed within a half mile of her and it was hard to go on and leave the men to their fate,” he said after reaching Sault Ste. Marie two days later. “It was out of the question to stop, however much the call of humanity might demand it.”
By the time he reached Detroit on September 23, McLean was going to great lengths to justify his decision. He told about the leaking steam pipes and the dash for safety behind the Keweenaw Peninsula. “It was a question of staying away and having one boat and one crew go down instead of running close and having two boats and two crews drowned in the storm,” he said. “We were leaking badly, had three feet of water in our hold and the seas were washing us from stern to stem. We had two pumps and siphon working full blast, but still the water was gaining and there was twenty-five miles between us and the nearest point of shelter. In order to render any assistance it would have been necessary to run to the lee of (the Hudson) and get lines to the crew. To run to the lee of the Hudson would have meant to sink my own boat and sacrifice the lives of the twenty-one persons aboard her. One roll of the Hudson against the Nicol would have sent us to the bottom in five minutes. It was a terrible thing to see those men clinging there with not one chance in a thousand of ever getting away, and then have to pass them. But it would have been foolhardy to attempt to run close to her.”
Because of the severe list, the men on the Hudson could not launch lifeboats. The boats were still on the boat’s davits when the Hudson sank. Thus it was that all twenty-five members of the Hudson’s crew died with the boat that day. The dead included Capt. A. J. McDonald, first mate Charles Brooks, second mate Bert Gray, chief engineer Moses Trouton, second engineer George Vogt, and crew members Donald Glass, Peter Renning, Edward Miller, John Hughes, Heney Meyers and Neil S. Pearson. Two regular crew members missed the trip. Thomas J. Reppenhagen of Buffalo, the regular first mate, got gray to replace him for the trip so he could be with his sick wife. Wheelman Fred Peterson, who had been with the boat for seven years, decided for some unexplained reason to quit his job before the Hudson left Duluth on its final trip to destiny.
(Wreck of the Hudson)
By James Donahue
The freighter John M. Nicol was in trouble. The boat had been fighting a fierce northeaster on Lake Superior for several hours on the morning of September 16, 1901, and her seams were starting to open. The pumps were not keeping up with the water surging into her vast hold. Then, just about dawn, chief engineer George E. Tretheway called Capt. William “Bill” McLean to the engine room to give him some more bad news. He showed McLean how the boat’s steam pipes were starting to work loose because of the wild wrenching and twisting the vessel’s hull was taking. “This boat can’t stand the strain much longer,” Tretheway warned
McLean had the Nicol steaming hard for the shelter of Michigan’s Keweenaw Peninsula, racing against time to save his command. He reasoned that once he got the Nicol close enough to land, if things got too bad he would drive the boat aground to save the twenty-one members of his crew. He spoke of his alternative plan to Tretheway. This was his state of mind at about 10:00 AM when the Nichol came upon the steamer Hudson in a sinking condition, about eight miles off Eagle River.
The Hudson was caught in the rough of the seas, her engines obviously cold because there was no smoke coming from her twin stacks, and she was listing hard to starboard. The seas were rolling over the Hudson’s slanting decks. Men could be seen huddled together near the bow, clinging to the port railing. It was obvious to McLean that the Hudson had developed engine trouble during the height of the storm, could not keep under way, then fell off to the mercy of the wind and waves. Because of the severe rolling, her cargo of twenty-two thousand five hundred bushels of flax seed and sixty-nine thousand bushels of wheat had shifted. By the time the Nicol arrived, the Hudson was within minutes of foundering.
McLean now had a hard decision to make. Should he attempt to rescue those sailors aboard the Hudson and risk losing his own crippled command? His choice was to save the Nicol. It was a decision that would haunt McLean the rest of his life. “We passed within a half mile of her and it was hard to go on and leave the men to their fate,” he said after reaching Sault Ste. Marie two days later. “It was out of the question to stop, however much the call of humanity might demand it.”
By the time he reached Detroit on September 23, McLean was going to great lengths to justify his decision. He told about the leaking steam pipes and the dash for safety behind the Keweenaw Peninsula. “It was a question of staying away and having one boat and one crew go down instead of running close and having two boats and two crews drowned in the storm,” he said. “We were leaking badly, had three feet of water in our hold and the seas were washing us from stern to stem. We had two pumps and siphon working full blast, but still the water was gaining and there was twenty-five miles between us and the nearest point of shelter. In order to render any assistance it would have been necessary to run to the lee of (the Hudson) and get lines to the crew. To run to the lee of the Hudson would have meant to sink my own boat and sacrifice the lives of the twenty-one persons aboard her. One roll of the Hudson against the Nicol would have sent us to the bottom in five minutes. It was a terrible thing to see those men clinging there with not one chance in a thousand of ever getting away, and then have to pass them. But it would have been foolhardy to attempt to run close to her.”
Because of the severe list, the men on the Hudson could not launch lifeboats. The boats were still on the boat’s davits when the Hudson sank. Thus it was that all twenty-five members of the Hudson’s crew died with the boat that day. The dead included Capt. A. J. McDonald, first mate Charles Brooks, second mate Bert Gray, chief engineer Moses Trouton, second engineer George Vogt, and crew members Donald Glass, Peter Renning, Edward Miller, John Hughes, Heney Meyers and Neil S. Pearson. Two regular crew members missed the trip. Thomas J. Reppenhagen of Buffalo, the regular first mate, got gray to replace him for the trip so he could be with his sick wife. Wheelman Fred Peterson, who had been with the boat for seven years, decided for some unexplained reason to quit his job before the Hudson left Duluth on its final trip to destiny.