Annie Young - Runaway Fire Ship
By James Donahue
After twenty-one years, the wooden-hulled propeller Annie Young was considered an old vessel when it caught fire and burned off Lexington, Michigan on a breezy October day in 1890. Before the day was over nine crew members were dead and the Annie Young was a charred hulk at the bottom of Lake Huron. Plus the skipper of a rescue boat, the Edward Smith, was in line for a medal.
No one might have guessed her black fate the day the Young steamed off from J. W. Thompson’s dock at Port Huron for her fateful journey north into Lake Huron. About 7:00 AM on October 20, Capt. Hugh Miller order the boat’s mooring lines cast off and the coal fires stoked for the trip. She was heading for several ports along the Michigan shoreline. Her holds were laden with a cargo of coal, barrels of nails and several hundred barrels of oil.
There was a brisk northwest wind blowing so Miller called for extra steam. He knew he needed the power to help the one hundred eight-seven-foot vessel advance once it left the protection of the St. Clair River and put its bow into a line of heavy swells rolling across Lake Huron.
The steamer Edward Smith, with two barges in tow, also was entering Lake Huron at about the same time that morning. The Young had no tow so was making good time. She soon pulled ahead of the Smith and only the smoke from the trailing steamer’s stack could be seen against the skyline.
The fire broke out in the after hold at about 9:00 AM, when the Young was off Lakeport, Michigan. Nobody knew what started it. A fire at sea is a fearsome thing, and it was especially terrifying for the twenty-three members of the Annie Young’s crew. Their vessel was a wooden boat filled with highly flammable coal and barrels of oil. It was certainly the wrong cargo to be carrying when battling a fire aboard ship.
The stories of what happened that day are filled with drama at sea. There was heroism, terror and perhaps even a hint of insubordination. From the moment the fire was discovered, the chief engineer and members of the engine room crew did all they could to put it out. They had two hoses hooked to the steam pumps, but it was a hard fight and some of the men were burned.
The fire gained and it was not long before the engineer and his fire crew were driven from the after hold by the advancing flames. About the same time the black gang was driven from the engine room in great haste. They left without shutting down the engines, which turned out to be a serious mistake. By now the flames were spewing from the after hatches, and it was clear to Captain Miller that the Annie Young was doomed.
Miller now found himself the skipper of a burning ship running out of control on a stormy sea. Once his crew left the engine room there was no way to stop the boat until the fire under the boilers burned out and stopped producing steam. And with the engine room burning, the chances of running out of steam right away seemed too much to hope for.
The problem was that launching lifeboats to escape from the burning vessel was next to impossible while the Annie Young was under way. We will never know the thoughts that raced through Miller’s mind that morning as he assessed the plight he and his people found themselves. As long as Miller and his wheel man could stay in the pilothouse they kept the boat steering into the wind. This slowed the fire from spreading forward and bought time for the crew members, who huddled in the bow, to hope for a miracle.
That miracle was in the works a few miles to the south. There, Captain Mitchell, on the steamer Edward Smith, was watching the fire as he sped to the scene. Once Mitchell saw it was the Young that was ablaze, he ordered the tow lines to the barges cut and called on his engine room crew to give him more steam.
Meanwhile, some of the men on the Young were attempting to launch a lifeboat. As the yawl was being lowered from its davits, twelve men jumped into it. Three decided at the last moment to climb back on the deck, either because Miller ordered them back or because they realized such a launch was foolhardy. The remaining nine dropped their boat into the water and discovered the force of the moving boat made it impossible for it to break away. The yawl was dragged like a wild beast in the Young’s wake. It soon capsized and all nine sailors were thrown violently into the sea to drown. Among the drowned men were George McManus of Port Huron, G. Conley of Collingwood, Ontario; J. Conally of Erie, Pennsylvania; J. Crosby of St. Catherines, Ontario; and J. Gallagher, no address given.
Finally the Smith caught up with the racing Young. Mitchell used every trick of seamanship he knew to pull his vessel alongside the moving fire ship so that the fourteen trapped men still on it could safely get away. They said he made three tries before he managed to get everybody aboard the Smith.
Mitchell then turned his command south and steamed to Port Huron, probably to get medical attention for burned sailors. He was decorated the following year for heroism.
Once he arrived in Port Huron, Captain Miller hired the tug Kittie Haight to take him back to what was left of his burning command. By the time they arrived the Young was dead in the water. She was still afloat, but the fire had consumed it to the point where there was nothing left to salvage. The tug stood by until the Young slipped under the rolling seas, making a great cloud of steam as she sank. The wreck still lies at the bottom of Lake Huron near Lexington, in about six fathoms of water.
By James Donahue
After twenty-one years, the wooden-hulled propeller Annie Young was considered an old vessel when it caught fire and burned off Lexington, Michigan on a breezy October day in 1890. Before the day was over nine crew members were dead and the Annie Young was a charred hulk at the bottom of Lake Huron. Plus the skipper of a rescue boat, the Edward Smith, was in line for a medal.
No one might have guessed her black fate the day the Young steamed off from J. W. Thompson’s dock at Port Huron for her fateful journey north into Lake Huron. About 7:00 AM on October 20, Capt. Hugh Miller order the boat’s mooring lines cast off and the coal fires stoked for the trip. She was heading for several ports along the Michigan shoreline. Her holds were laden with a cargo of coal, barrels of nails and several hundred barrels of oil.
There was a brisk northwest wind blowing so Miller called for extra steam. He knew he needed the power to help the one hundred eight-seven-foot vessel advance once it left the protection of the St. Clair River and put its bow into a line of heavy swells rolling across Lake Huron.
The steamer Edward Smith, with two barges in tow, also was entering Lake Huron at about the same time that morning. The Young had no tow so was making good time. She soon pulled ahead of the Smith and only the smoke from the trailing steamer’s stack could be seen against the skyline.
The fire broke out in the after hold at about 9:00 AM, when the Young was off Lakeport, Michigan. Nobody knew what started it. A fire at sea is a fearsome thing, and it was especially terrifying for the twenty-three members of the Annie Young’s crew. Their vessel was a wooden boat filled with highly flammable coal and barrels of oil. It was certainly the wrong cargo to be carrying when battling a fire aboard ship.
The stories of what happened that day are filled with drama at sea. There was heroism, terror and perhaps even a hint of insubordination. From the moment the fire was discovered, the chief engineer and members of the engine room crew did all they could to put it out. They had two hoses hooked to the steam pumps, but it was a hard fight and some of the men were burned.
The fire gained and it was not long before the engineer and his fire crew were driven from the after hold by the advancing flames. About the same time the black gang was driven from the engine room in great haste. They left without shutting down the engines, which turned out to be a serious mistake. By now the flames were spewing from the after hatches, and it was clear to Captain Miller that the Annie Young was doomed.
Miller now found himself the skipper of a burning ship running out of control on a stormy sea. Once his crew left the engine room there was no way to stop the boat until the fire under the boilers burned out and stopped producing steam. And with the engine room burning, the chances of running out of steam right away seemed too much to hope for.
The problem was that launching lifeboats to escape from the burning vessel was next to impossible while the Annie Young was under way. We will never know the thoughts that raced through Miller’s mind that morning as he assessed the plight he and his people found themselves. As long as Miller and his wheel man could stay in the pilothouse they kept the boat steering into the wind. This slowed the fire from spreading forward and bought time for the crew members, who huddled in the bow, to hope for a miracle.
That miracle was in the works a few miles to the south. There, Captain Mitchell, on the steamer Edward Smith, was watching the fire as he sped to the scene. Once Mitchell saw it was the Young that was ablaze, he ordered the tow lines to the barges cut and called on his engine room crew to give him more steam.
Meanwhile, some of the men on the Young were attempting to launch a lifeboat. As the yawl was being lowered from its davits, twelve men jumped into it. Three decided at the last moment to climb back on the deck, either because Miller ordered them back or because they realized such a launch was foolhardy. The remaining nine dropped their boat into the water and discovered the force of the moving boat made it impossible for it to break away. The yawl was dragged like a wild beast in the Young’s wake. It soon capsized and all nine sailors were thrown violently into the sea to drown. Among the drowned men were George McManus of Port Huron, G. Conley of Collingwood, Ontario; J. Conally of Erie, Pennsylvania; J. Crosby of St. Catherines, Ontario; and J. Gallagher, no address given.
Finally the Smith caught up with the racing Young. Mitchell used every trick of seamanship he knew to pull his vessel alongside the moving fire ship so that the fourteen trapped men still on it could safely get away. They said he made three tries before he managed to get everybody aboard the Smith.
Mitchell then turned his command south and steamed to Port Huron, probably to get medical attention for burned sailors. He was decorated the following year for heroism.
Once he arrived in Port Huron, Captain Miller hired the tug Kittie Haight to take him back to what was left of his burning command. By the time they arrived the Young was dead in the water. She was still afloat, but the fire had consumed it to the point where there was nothing left to salvage. The tug stood by until the Young slipped under the rolling seas, making a great cloud of steam as she sank. The wreck still lies at the bottom of Lake Huron near Lexington, in about six fathoms of water.