The Ship That Wouldn’t Turn Left
By James Donahue
The collision was so violent that it knocked seaman Dennis Harrington off the deck to his death in fog-shrouded Lake Michigan. It happened somewhere in the middle of the lake on the night of July 8, 1886. The steam barge C. Hickox, lunber-laden and bound from Muskegon to Chicago, drove her bow deep into the port side of the steamer Milwaukee, which was traveling empty. The hole in the Milwaukee’s side sank the boat, but not before the C. Hickox took off the remaining members of its crew.
Both masters, Capt. “Black Bill” Alexander of the Milwaukee and Simon O’Day of the Hickox, had their licenses temporarily revoked after U. S. steamboat inspectors decided they shared the blame for the collision because of carelessness.
But sailors who served on the eighteen-year-old wooden-hulled Milwaukee said they thought a peculiar quirk of their boat and Alexander’s long familiarity with that quirk may have contributed the most to the accident. They said the Milwaukee’s hull had warped over the years, and her starboard quarter had fallen several inches. It hung down in the water even when the ship was in light trim. Alexander always said he preferred to turn to starboard because the boat responded better to a starboard rudder than it did to port. Thus it was, when watchmen spotted lights of the C. Hickox dead ahead in the fog, Alexander ordered the wheelman to turn to starboard when the command should have been to port. O’Day ordered his vessel turned to port at about the same moment, which kept both boats on a collision course.
The C. Hickox hit the Milwaukee so hard amid ships that the empty steamer almost turned turtle. Sailors said it tipped on the port side at an extreme angle before settling back on her keel. At that moment Harrington was knocked off the deck to drown. His fall went unnoticed by the others.
There was mass bedlam for a few minutes on the Milwaukee, but they said Alexander restored order with a cool hand that left quite an impression. Because the Hickox already was backed away and lost in the fog, Alexander put the crew to work at the pumps, trying to keep the stricken vessel afloat as long as possible until help arrived. But he knew from the damage that the boat was going to sink. He used the steam left in her boilers to sound the whistle, blowing it constantly until O’Day traced the noise and found his way back to the sinking steamer.
O’Day said: “I worked the boat carefully in the direction from which they (the whistles) seemed to come from, but, strange to say, fully three-quarters of an hour elapsed before I sighted her masthead light.” About the time the Hickox pulled alongside, the City of New York also arrived at the scene. After the Hickox took the crew aboard, the City of New York tried to take the Milwaukee in tow. It was too late. The old steamer settled and the towline had to be cut free.
By James Donahue
The collision was so violent that it knocked seaman Dennis Harrington off the deck to his death in fog-shrouded Lake Michigan. It happened somewhere in the middle of the lake on the night of July 8, 1886. The steam barge C. Hickox, lunber-laden and bound from Muskegon to Chicago, drove her bow deep into the port side of the steamer Milwaukee, which was traveling empty. The hole in the Milwaukee’s side sank the boat, but not before the C. Hickox took off the remaining members of its crew.
Both masters, Capt. “Black Bill” Alexander of the Milwaukee and Simon O’Day of the Hickox, had their licenses temporarily revoked after U. S. steamboat inspectors decided they shared the blame for the collision because of carelessness.
But sailors who served on the eighteen-year-old wooden-hulled Milwaukee said they thought a peculiar quirk of their boat and Alexander’s long familiarity with that quirk may have contributed the most to the accident. They said the Milwaukee’s hull had warped over the years, and her starboard quarter had fallen several inches. It hung down in the water even when the ship was in light trim. Alexander always said he preferred to turn to starboard because the boat responded better to a starboard rudder than it did to port. Thus it was, when watchmen spotted lights of the C. Hickox dead ahead in the fog, Alexander ordered the wheelman to turn to starboard when the command should have been to port. O’Day ordered his vessel turned to port at about the same moment, which kept both boats on a collision course.
The C. Hickox hit the Milwaukee so hard amid ships that the empty steamer almost turned turtle. Sailors said it tipped on the port side at an extreme angle before settling back on her keel. At that moment Harrington was knocked off the deck to drown. His fall went unnoticed by the others.
There was mass bedlam for a few minutes on the Milwaukee, but they said Alexander restored order with a cool hand that left quite an impression. Because the Hickox already was backed away and lost in the fog, Alexander put the crew to work at the pumps, trying to keep the stricken vessel afloat as long as possible until help arrived. But he knew from the damage that the boat was going to sink. He used the steam left in her boilers to sound the whistle, blowing it constantly until O’Day traced the noise and found his way back to the sinking steamer.
O’Day said: “I worked the boat carefully in the direction from which they (the whistles) seemed to come from, but, strange to say, fully three-quarters of an hour elapsed before I sighted her masthead light.” About the time the Hickox pulled alongside, the City of New York also arrived at the scene. After the Hickox took the crew aboard, the City of New York tried to take the Milwaukee in tow. It was too late. The old steamer settled and the towline had to be cut free.