Sunken History—A Diver’s Journal
“All Saved”
by Captain Deb Biniecki

George Thompson peered out the window of his Keewahdin Beach cottage, straining to see beyond the crashing breakers through the dense smoke that hovered over the lake. He telephoned the life saving station to report that he heard the whistles of lake boats in distress. He was assured that it was more likely the toots of lake boats indicating to one another whether they are passing to port or starboard. He had been a resident of the lakeshore community for some time and was well aware of vessel signals. Still unconvinced, he begrudgingly hung up the phone. “There it is again” he thought, as he picked up the phone once again to report what he was now certain were vessels in distress. This time, the crew from the life saving station sprung into action. What was taking place out on the lake beyond Mr. Thompson’s vision was what the local newspaper would call the greatest marine disaster ever known at the foot of Lake Huron.

The wind and weather report from Friday, September 6, 1901, warned of winds shifting to brisk northerly on Lake Huron by Saturday afternoon. Early that Saturday, the wind began to freshen from the north as predicted. However, the weather report could not account for the smoke billowing from shore. By afternoon the breeze had turned into a full gale. The smoke from forest fires on the Canadian shore created a dense smog, obscuring visibility on the lake from Pointe Aux Barques to the St. Clair River. The gale and smoke joined forces producing a deadly combination for unsuspecting mariners. Before the day was over, seven lake boats would be grounded at the foot of the lake and two near Harbor Beach.

At four o’clock Saturday afternoon, the big Pittsburg Steamship Co. steamer Wawatam with her consort Whaleback No.202 trailing behind, steamed out of the shelter of the St. Clair River into the open lake. Both were traveling light and had difficulty making headway against the northeast gale. After traveling about 15 miles the captain made the decision to turn back. Unfortunately, the smoke had grown thicker and darkness had set in. They could not determine their location as no lights from shore or the lightship were visible and the north wind blew the sound of the fog horn away from them.

For a time they groped in the darkness, at any moment expecting to go aground or crash into another vessel. The sound of a whistle in the distance became more and more distinct. Finally the lights from the steamer Pauly came into view. They followed the lights believing that the Pauly was safe. As the Wawatam came closer, the captain of the Pauly shouted through a megaphone that he was aground. This warning came too late. The current pushed the Wawatam toward shore grounding the steamer a short distance from the Pauly. Moments later more excitement came when the consort, Whaleback No. 202, came alarmingly close to the Wawatam. Fortunately, the whaleback was blown to the side. Being that she was light the heavy seas easily pushed her broadside sticking her hard into the sand in about two feet of water.

The tug Sarnia was next to join the party in front of George Thompson’s cottage. She was waiting in deeper water for the tug Champion with a raft and was surprised by the smoke and gale. The north by northeast wind caught the tug and blew her into the beach about an eighth of a mile below the other stranded vessels.

By this time the lifesavers were loading their surf boat on a wagon and preparing to head toward Keewadin Beach, two and a half miles below their station. This was their first rescue effort since the station opened and they were prepared and eager to assist those in need. The eight surfmen, tall, tanned and striking in their white uniforms, rubber boots and cork life preservers, quickly set about their work of rescuing the stranded crews.

The news that several boats had grounded had spread rapidly. Street cars carried curious people from the city. A group of at least 100 people gathered that evening to witness the tragedy. The gale was fierce that night making it difficult to launch the surf boat, but willing hands from the crowd of onlookers assisted the lifesavers. With a determination and skill achieved only with hours of practice, the lifesavers maneuvered their surf boat toward the tug Sarnia. The crowd watched with fascination and horror as the lifesavers struggled on toward the tug. For long moments their light seemed to disappear as they dipped into the trough of the sea and then rise again on the crest of a wave, only to be swallowed again by the raging lake. The surf men successfully retrieved seven crewmembers from the Sarnia.

Next, the lifesavers headed toward the Pauly and Amarnath, rescuing 19 more people as their vessels threatened to break apart. Crews from the Wawatam and Whaleback No. 202 did not want to leave as they were resting easily. The rescued individuals were taken to nearby cottages to dry out and then later made their way back to the city by street car.

The lifesavers took a well-deserved break at Mr. Thompson’s cottage. He played an important role in the rescue by placing his home at the disposal of the lifesavers and providing for their comfort. He lit a warming fire and made coffee for the men. The lifesavers had just enough time to drink a cup of coffee and get partially dry before being called to the aid of two more vessels in distress. At about 10 o’clock, the lifesavers once again made the arduous journey in their surf boat into the teeth of the northeaster toward the grounded vessels, steamer Quito and barge Marion Page.

When the lifesavers returned for the last time with their passengers, eager helpers grabbed the ropes and pulled the surf boat to the beach. The surf men were anxiously questioned, and a collective sigh of relief went up from the crowd when the answer came “all saved.” The crew from the Quito chose to stay at their posts but 10 people were taken off the Page, including a woman and two children. The lifesavers spent what was left of the night at Ben Karrer’s cottage and waited for the light of day to reveal the details of the scene.

Thousands more people came in by street car, on foot or by bicycle. Reports at the time indicated that 8,000 sightseers visited that Sunday. The shore from the wrecks to the Hotel Windemere was piled with lath, which was washed from the decks of the Pauly and Amaranth. The Quito, who was grounded late the previous night, managed to free herself from the sand and headed down the lake.

The wind and waves, quieted by Sunday morning, had left in their wake the broken hulk of the old barge Amaranth. The others were eventually lightened and released. But the Amaranth was finished after serving the lake trade for 45 years. She was broken in two at amidships. The Amaranth was too old to carry insurance and was a total loss. She was relieved of her load and anything of value. Within days, the Amaranth’s whole port side was gone and rotten timbers began to come off one by one, scattering wreckage along the beach.

If anyone cares to search for the Amaranth today, she is still there patiently waiting off Keewahdin Beach, as she has for over 100 years now. Her remains are partially buried in the sand in about 12 feet of water with another section in about five feet. However, there is little testament there of the night of the ferocious gale and heroic actions of lifesavers, who snatched 36 people from the clutches of Lake Huron.

If you would like to contact Capt. Deb with any ideas, feedback, or information regarding shipwreck stories, please contact her through Huron Explorations at 810-648-4638 or e-mail at captdeb@avci.net. SCUBA diving charters can also be arranged through the above contact information.