The Storm

Since her husband’s death Sarah had wanted to move her three young children from the family farm into town. She delayed because the farm had meant so much to her husband.

A near tragedy changed her mind. With the spring rains came torrential floods. One storm in particular lasted 3 days. The winds threatened to blow the old house down.

The firewood was running out so Sarah sent her oldest son, Daniel to fetch more. She warned him as he donned his rain slicker to be very careful.

She watched from the front porch as Daniel made his way to the woodpile. He was trudging back to the house when a large branch from a dead sycamore tree snapped.

She screamed a warning but it was too late, this branch struck Daniel’s head knocking him off his feet. She ran to his side picked him up and carried him back to the house all the time calling his name—she received no response.

Daniel’s head was bleeding profusely and his face was pale. Sarah knew she must get help, but how? The farm was ten miles from the nearest town and high water had washed the bridge out.

Finding no solution, Sarah became frantic. The sounds of the wind outside were joined by a distinct knock on the front door. At first Sarah thought it was her imagination but as the knocks became more persistent she cautiously opened the door.

Two rain-soaked men stood in front of her. One was chubby and short the other was tall and lanky. Sarah managed to stutter that her son was injured and could they bring help.

The taller of the two quickly moved passed her and took off his hat. She recognized him as a visiting doctor by the name of Tucker who had been the guest of the local doctor three years before.

Relieved she quickly led him to where Daniel lay. He examined her son and concluded he needed an operation to save his life. His friend handed him a large black bag Sarah had not seen when they stood on the dark porch.

Dr. Tucker took Sarah’s arm gently and suggested she take the smaller children into the next room and get some rest. Sarah reluctantly complied and was surprised she was able to doze off.

When she awoke the operation was over. Doctor Tucker assured her there was nothing to worry about Daniel would be fine. Relieved, Sarah thanked him and invited the two men to dinner.

She went to the kitchen to see what she could prepare, when she returned the two men were gone.

After the storm had passed, Sarah went into town. She ran into the local doctor and told him how grateful that Doctor Tucker had happened by her farm.

Dr. Jones listened to her story with a puzzled expression. He hesitated and then told her she must be mistaken for Doctor Tucker had been killed in a train accident the year before.

This story has been told in many different forms—it is another gem that Ruth Ann Musick collected for her book Coffin Hollow.

Rescue In A Vast Ocean

The spirits of departed relatives sometimes return to save a loved one.

In March of 1876, a sea captain named George Hatfield was a few weeks from his home in Fox River, Nova Scotia. He was sailing north from Cuba to Boston when a bad storm hit the Atlantic Ocean.

He spent a stressful day at the helm of his ship and then gratefully retired to get so much needed rest. But as fate would have it this was not to be.

Soon after Hatfield nodded off he felt a hand on his shoulder and heard a voice state he needed to change course. But when he rolled over there was no one in his cabin.

Hatfield thought his first mate must have delivered the message and then rushed back up on deck. The captain headed up to the bridge to find out what was going on.

On deck he spotted his first mate at the wheel leading the ship through the stormy waters. Hatfield approached him and quizzed him as to why he did not want to follow the set course.

But the first mate had no idea what he was talking about. Hatfield feeling foolish concluded he must have dreamed the visitor in his cabin.

He went below and crawled back into his bunk. He fell asleep quickly but shortly after he was awakened again in the same manner.

Angry, Hatfield headed back to the deck. He demanded his first mate tell him why he wanted to change course and why he had not stayed after waking him to discuss this matter.

Noticeably puzzled, the mate replied that he had not left his post, nor had any other crewmember.

Now confused, the captain returned to his cabin. He had barely closed his eyes when someone tapped his shoulder and ordered him in a loud voice to make a specific course change.

This time as the captain looked up he saw a strange man leaving his cabin. Hatfield jumped up and hurried up the stairs to the deck. When he reached his first mate he asked him if he had seen someone walking along the deck.

His first mate replied no. The captain then ordered him to alter the ship’s course in the way the voice had directed him. The first mate despite the captain’s erratic behavior followed his orders.

This time when Hatfield returned to his bunk he was able to go to sleep without any more interruptions.

The next morning when the captain appeared on deck he ordered his men to keep a sharp look out at the sea.

Several hours later he heard a cry and then one of his crew pointed out a battered ship that appeared to be taking on water quickly.

The captain was able to maneuver his ship close to the sinking ship. It was the American schooner D. Talbot. His crew managed to rescue everyone on board.

The ship’s captain, a man by the name of Amesbury, was particularly grateful for his wife and child were on board the doomed ship.

Later after the captain and his family were dry, Hatfield told them how he had happened to find them. He described the mysterious man that had appeared in his cabin.

Captain Amesbury’s wife interrupted Hatfield and asked him to describe what this man wore. After he did, she began to cry. Hatfield asked her what was the matter?

She told him that he had described her father—this man had died ten years earlier.

Everyone involved later agreed that her father’s spirit had returned from the grave and guided Hatfield to the exact spot in the vast Atlantic Ocean—where his help was needed.

Great Lakes Ghost Ship: Edmund Fitzgerald

It has been almost 40 years since the iron ore freighter SS Edmund Fitzgerald, the largest ship on the Great lakes in the 1970s, gave up its battle against ferocious seas and slipped beneath Lake Superior’s cold tumultuous surface. 

Edmund Fitzgerald

On November 9, 1975, a storm was brewing as the Fitzgerald left Duluth, Minnesota, bound for the Zug Island docks in Detroit, Michigan. 

But without today's more precise GPS tracking systems she was unable to pinpoint her position, *which put her in harm’s way.

The freighter, Arthur M. Anderson was 15 miles behind her when the two crews radioed each other about the brutal gale-force winds. 

Within minutes the captain of the Fitzgerald, Ernest McSorley radioed that his ship was damaged and had a list--it was taking on water. 

McSorley requested the Anderson be its radio eyes for the rest of the trip to Whitefish Bay. The last radio communication from the Fitzgerald came at 7:10 p.m., just nine miles short of safety. McSorley stated:

“One of the worst seas I have ever seen. We are holding our own.”

Five minutes later the Anderson’s radar lost the Fitzgerald. 

All 29 crew members perished when the Edmund Fitzgerald went down. No remains were ever recovered. 

Rogue waves or what are known as the "Three Sisters" ** -- massive 90 ft. waves-- are believed to have sunk the Fitzgerald. 

Ten years after the Fitzgerald sank, it was spotted once more on Lake Superior by a commercial vessel. This crew stated that they saw this large ship on a foggy night. 

They reported a "strange eerie atmosphere" at the time they spotted this ghost ship. The Edmund Fitzgerald remains at the bottom of this lake--500 feet down in two pieces.

* Ships that ply their trade on the Great Lakes today have better communication systems. Now there is radio reception on all sections of these lakes. 

With cellphones and digital satellites-- weather forecasts are given in real-time. The Fitzgerald might have survived if this kind of technology had been available in 1975. 

But many seasoned sailors point out that despite this technology the lakes' mighty wind and water can still, sink ships.

** The phenomenon known as Three Sisters is a series of waves that have been known to hit Lake Superior. Three large waves form, the second wave hits the ship's deck before the first wave clears. The third incoming wave adds to the two accumulated backwashes and suddenly overloads the ship's deck with tons of water.

In 1976, one of my all-time favorite singers, Gordon Lightfoot, immortalized the Fitzgerald in his ballad, The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

Ghost Ship: S.S. Kamloops

Early in December of 1927, the steamship S.S. Kamloops was seen for the last time intact with her crew alive and well. 

She was traveling on the last leg of her journey from Montreal to Port Arthur, now known as Thunder Bay. She entered Lake Superior through the Sault St. Marie canal—she passed through the Soo Locks on December 4th destined for Fort William. Tragically, this was to be the last journey for the Kamloops.

The Kamloops was following the steamer Quedoc on December 5^th when a massive storm hit Lake Superior. Both were making steady headway through this heavy north gale in fog and sub-freezing temperatures on the night of the 6^th when the captain of the Quedoc suddenly saw a black mass loom up before his ship, he turned to avoid it while sounding a danger signal to warn the Kamloops. 

Because of poor visibility, it was not known if the Kamloops heard the signal in time and was able to make the turn. The Quedoc made it to Fort William, but the Kamloops would never arrive.

As the storm grew fiercer that night, many ships were stranded on various parts of the lake. At first, hope was kept alive when several ships at different ports reported seeing the Kamloops, but by December 12th, all ships had been accounted for except the Kamloops. 

At this point, the search for her started in earnest. Efforts where made until December 26^th when fading hopes and the ice and winter weather made it impossible to continue the search.

This was not the first time in the Kamloops' history that she had shipped cargo so late in the season, on two other occasions in her short career she had been trapped by the ice in St. Mary’s river pushed by her owner to make one last run. 

In December of 1927, she was carrying a load of expensive paper making machinery that her owner—the Canada Steamship Line expected her to deliver before the lake iced in. But this time her luck ran out, her entire crew, including two women, were never again seen alive.

This tragedy was made worse when in the spring of 1928. A group of fishermen discovered the remains of several of the crew. They had managed to make it to shore on the island of Amygdaloid. It is believed that these surviving crewmembers died of exposure for this island offers minimal shelter, and the winds the night of December 6^th had reached 62 miles an hour, the temperature had dipped nine degrees below zero. 

Also in 1927, the crew would not have had a radio, and this was before searches were done by air, all these factors combined, doomed the crew from the start.

For fifty years, the disappearance of the S.S. Kamloops remained a mystery, so she was classified as a ghost ship; various witnesses saw her decks, port, and starboard sides covered in ice and frost even in the summer months along the lake during this period.

S.S. Kamloops at the bottom
of Lake Superior.

The Kamloops was unusual in that she was a small steamship only 250 feet in length. She also had four distinct tall king posts—each rigged with a 5-ton derrick used to load and unload the freight she carried. 

So in August of 1977, when divers found a sunken ship northwest of Isle Royale resting on its starboard side, two hundred and sixty feet down, there was no doubt it was the Kamloops.

Lake Superior is known for its rough weather—its waters are frigid year-round. The surface temperature rarely reaches above 55 degrees Fahrenheit; below 50 feet divers experience 34-37 degrees Fahrenheit. Because of the cold conditions, the wreck of the Kamloops has been preserved, even though it has been eighty-four years since she sank. 

The cargo that once was so important is still in almost perfect condition in her hold. Divers have seen, wire fencing, high top shoes, candy lifesavers, and crates of Honey Bee Molasses.

The Kamloops also holds well-preserved human remains. Because of the frigid temperatures, no fish are found at this depth. 

One story often told by divers is of a body seen in the engine room they call “Grandpa” or “Whitey.” Witnesses have said that he floats or follows quietly behind them as they explore the engine room. Some divers state that their movements have caused currents that make this happen, others say that Grandpa seems to have a will of his own. 

Regardless, his appearance has scared more than one diver in this compartment. His skin is described as very pale or white, and divers have seen his wedding ring on his left hand. 

The cause of the sinking of the S.S. Kamloops remains a mystery.

The Kamloops is one of twelve ships and smaller vessels in the area around the Isle of Royale that has been claimed by Lake Superiors’ powerful storms. The National Park Service protects all these shipwrecks as cultural treasures.

A side note: dives to the Kamloops are not advised because she is located at an extreme depth, so the danger of decompression is high.