Death Cruise on the Western Reserve
By James Donahue
From the book Terrifying Steamboat Stories
Capt. Peter G. Minch, a prominent Cleveland shipping magnate, was proud of the newest addition to his fleet. The Western Reserve, built for Minch only two years earlier, was the largest and fastest of the six steamers he owned, and Minch liked to think it was among the finest of the boats on the lakes. The three hundred-foot long, twenty-four hundred ton Reserve was, indeed, among the largest and most powerful boats traversing the lakes in 1892. She was setting records in both speed and cargo carried, which only added to Minch’s satisfaction.
That is why Minch decided to take his family on a summer cruise on the fleet flagship. The trip had been planned for weeks and Minch, who spent his early years sailing the lakes, made it clear to friends that he was looking forward to getting out of the Cleveland office and back on the water for this brief respite. Traveling with Minch in the ship’s guest staterooms were his wife, their ten-year-old son Charles; a six-year-old daughter Florence; a sister-in-law, Mrs. Engleby of Vermilion, Ohio, and her nine-year-old daughter, Bertha. Minch, who knew all too well the dangers of sailing late in the season when storms swept the lakes, probably thought it safe to take his family on a cruise the last week in August. The weather was still warm and gales that time of the year were rare. Even if a storm did come, he was confident that the Western Reserve was a large and staunch enough vessel to carry them safely through it.
The steamer, under the command of Capt. Albert Myers, left Cleveland Sunday afternoon, August 28, under sunny skies. It was a gala occasion for the family as the big ship moved out into the placid waters of Lake Erie, her mighty engines throbbing under their feet. No one dreamed then that the ship was taking them on a horror cruise that would end in death and disaster. The Western Reserve was carrying water ballast for the trip up the lakes because her holds were empty. Plans were to take on a load of iron ore at Two Harbors, Minnesota. Things went well for the first two days. Everybody enjoyed the trip up the Detroit and St. Clair Rivers, where the Reserve travelled in a parade of steamers and barges working north, while a similar parade of vessels passed on their way south. These rivers, connecting Lakes Huron, St. Clair and Erie, have enjoyed the distinction of being among the busiest water thoroughfares in the world. The cruise across Lake Huron also was smooth, and by Tuesday afternoon the big ship was locking through at Sault Ste. Marie, on her way into the deep cold waters of mighty Lake Superior.
A heavy northwest wind was blowing and the seas were rolling as the Western Reserve steamed out into the lake that evening, but nobody worried. Captain Myers and Peter Minch were experienced lakes pilots and they thought they had seen this kind of weather before when crossing Lake Superior. Harry Steward, an Algonac, Michigan sailor who was the sole survivor of the disaster to follow, said the gale grew in strength until the boat began to pound. “Everything went well until about sixty miles above Whitefish Point,” Stewart said. “The first warning anyone on board had of impending danger was a terrible crash about 9:00 PM.” The noise was the hull of the ship starting to break in two. As the great steel trusses snapped under the strain, the boat’s main mast broke for some unexplained reason about halfway up, and plunged with ropes and pulleys to the deck, causing even more confusion as passengers and crew came to the awful realization of what was happening. Both Myers and Minch knew the danger and they immediately ordered the ship’s two lifeboats lowered.
“She took in water fast from the start,” Stewart said. “Captain Minch, his family and the officers and crew of the boat, to the number of seventeen got into the wooden yawl, and the others took to the metallic one. The Reserve sank in ten minutes, and before she had hardly gone out of sight the metallic yawl capsized.” He said the wooden boat he was in was rowed to the overturned craft, but only two people, Carl Myers, the captain’s son, and Bert Smith, the ship’s steward, were pulled from the water alive. Thus it was that the nineteen survivors, from an original ist of twenty-seven passengers and crew members, started in the open boat for Whitefish Point, some sixty miles to the southeast. Stewart said the wind was out of the west when they began the trip, but it later veered around to the north, helping to push the little boat along.
It was a terrible night of suffering as the waves tossed the boat around and kept everybody drenched and chilled. “the yawl was too small to hold the crew of nineteen. It was loaded down to within a foot of the water, and all night the spray kept breaking over us. We worked continuously bailing out the water with the only pail we had, and our hats. I remember Mrs. Minch hanging to one of the children and making a desperate effort for life. Then I heard Mr. Minch cry out, ‘My God, there goes one of my children!’ Carl Minch, the captain’s son and I were together. He asked me if I thought we could ready the shore. I said, ‘We will try.’ While we were in the yawl a steamer passed us. I think it was the Neshota. We could see her red light, but they could not see us. We were to the westward of them. We shouted and screamed for half an hour, but in the roar of the storm they could not hear us. If we had had a light they could have seen us. As a final resort we tried to burn one of the women’s shawls, but it was too wet and would not light.”
Stewart said they miraculously kept their frail craft upright until around 7:00 AM the next morning. The sun was up and land was in sight, only about a mile away, and everyone was beginning to feel hopeful when disaster struck. The boat got caught in a large breaker and capsized, throwing everyone into the water without warning. Stewart said that in a rush to escape the sinking steamer only a few people grabbed life jackets. He was not wearing one that night, but when the yawl went over, he somehow managed to grab a life jacket that someone had discarded in the bottom of the boat. It saved his life. “I got hold of it and put it on in the water,” he said. He said that all around him people struggled for a while in the water. He heard the cries of the women and children and the voices of the men as they tried to help one another. But eventually everything got silent. It was then that Stewart decided to swim for shore.
It took him about two hours, but somehow he had the strength to make it. Sometime in midmorning, he staggered out of the water and began a ten-mile trek east to the U. S. life saving station.
By James Donahue
From the book Terrifying Steamboat Stories
Capt. Peter G. Minch, a prominent Cleveland shipping magnate, was proud of the newest addition to his fleet. The Western Reserve, built for Minch only two years earlier, was the largest and fastest of the six steamers he owned, and Minch liked to think it was among the finest of the boats on the lakes. The three hundred-foot long, twenty-four hundred ton Reserve was, indeed, among the largest and most powerful boats traversing the lakes in 1892. She was setting records in both speed and cargo carried, which only added to Minch’s satisfaction.
That is why Minch decided to take his family on a summer cruise on the fleet flagship. The trip had been planned for weeks and Minch, who spent his early years sailing the lakes, made it clear to friends that he was looking forward to getting out of the Cleveland office and back on the water for this brief respite. Traveling with Minch in the ship’s guest staterooms were his wife, their ten-year-old son Charles; a six-year-old daughter Florence; a sister-in-law, Mrs. Engleby of Vermilion, Ohio, and her nine-year-old daughter, Bertha. Minch, who knew all too well the dangers of sailing late in the season when storms swept the lakes, probably thought it safe to take his family on a cruise the last week in August. The weather was still warm and gales that time of the year were rare. Even if a storm did come, he was confident that the Western Reserve was a large and staunch enough vessel to carry them safely through it.
The steamer, under the command of Capt. Albert Myers, left Cleveland Sunday afternoon, August 28, under sunny skies. It was a gala occasion for the family as the big ship moved out into the placid waters of Lake Erie, her mighty engines throbbing under their feet. No one dreamed then that the ship was taking them on a horror cruise that would end in death and disaster. The Western Reserve was carrying water ballast for the trip up the lakes because her holds were empty. Plans were to take on a load of iron ore at Two Harbors, Minnesota. Things went well for the first two days. Everybody enjoyed the trip up the Detroit and St. Clair Rivers, where the Reserve travelled in a parade of steamers and barges working north, while a similar parade of vessels passed on their way south. These rivers, connecting Lakes Huron, St. Clair and Erie, have enjoyed the distinction of being among the busiest water thoroughfares in the world. The cruise across Lake Huron also was smooth, and by Tuesday afternoon the big ship was locking through at Sault Ste. Marie, on her way into the deep cold waters of mighty Lake Superior.
A heavy northwest wind was blowing and the seas were rolling as the Western Reserve steamed out into the lake that evening, but nobody worried. Captain Myers and Peter Minch were experienced lakes pilots and they thought they had seen this kind of weather before when crossing Lake Superior. Harry Steward, an Algonac, Michigan sailor who was the sole survivor of the disaster to follow, said the gale grew in strength until the boat began to pound. “Everything went well until about sixty miles above Whitefish Point,” Stewart said. “The first warning anyone on board had of impending danger was a terrible crash about 9:00 PM.” The noise was the hull of the ship starting to break in two. As the great steel trusses snapped under the strain, the boat’s main mast broke for some unexplained reason about halfway up, and plunged with ropes and pulleys to the deck, causing even more confusion as passengers and crew came to the awful realization of what was happening. Both Myers and Minch knew the danger and they immediately ordered the ship’s two lifeboats lowered.
“She took in water fast from the start,” Stewart said. “Captain Minch, his family and the officers and crew of the boat, to the number of seventeen got into the wooden yawl, and the others took to the metallic one. The Reserve sank in ten minutes, and before she had hardly gone out of sight the metallic yawl capsized.” He said the wooden boat he was in was rowed to the overturned craft, but only two people, Carl Myers, the captain’s son, and Bert Smith, the ship’s steward, were pulled from the water alive. Thus it was that the nineteen survivors, from an original ist of twenty-seven passengers and crew members, started in the open boat for Whitefish Point, some sixty miles to the southeast. Stewart said the wind was out of the west when they began the trip, but it later veered around to the north, helping to push the little boat along.
It was a terrible night of suffering as the waves tossed the boat around and kept everybody drenched and chilled. “the yawl was too small to hold the crew of nineteen. It was loaded down to within a foot of the water, and all night the spray kept breaking over us. We worked continuously bailing out the water with the only pail we had, and our hats. I remember Mrs. Minch hanging to one of the children and making a desperate effort for life. Then I heard Mr. Minch cry out, ‘My God, there goes one of my children!’ Carl Minch, the captain’s son and I were together. He asked me if I thought we could ready the shore. I said, ‘We will try.’ While we were in the yawl a steamer passed us. I think it was the Neshota. We could see her red light, but they could not see us. We were to the westward of them. We shouted and screamed for half an hour, but in the roar of the storm they could not hear us. If we had had a light they could have seen us. As a final resort we tried to burn one of the women’s shawls, but it was too wet and would not light.”
Stewart said they miraculously kept their frail craft upright until around 7:00 AM the next morning. The sun was up and land was in sight, only about a mile away, and everyone was beginning to feel hopeful when disaster struck. The boat got caught in a large breaker and capsized, throwing everyone into the water without warning. Stewart said that in a rush to escape the sinking steamer only a few people grabbed life jackets. He was not wearing one that night, but when the yawl went over, he somehow managed to grab a life jacket that someone had discarded in the bottom of the boat. It saved his life. “I got hold of it and put it on in the water,” he said. He said that all around him people struggled for a while in the water. He heard the cries of the women and children and the voices of the men as they tried to help one another. But eventually everything got silent. It was then that Stewart decided to swim for shore.
It took him about two hours, but somehow he had the strength to make it. Sometime in midmorning, he staggered out of the water and began a ten-mile trek east to the U. S. life saving station.