The Hill In The Bottom Of The Lake: Schooner Days CII (102)

Everyone has heard of the "hole in the bottom of the sea," but how many know of the volcano in the middle of Lake Superior? Capt. Jas. McConnel and other lake farers corresponding with The Telegram have insisted that it has been there for the last generation, at least, although the schooner men of the older days were silent about it. One good reason for this is that the old lake schooners were shoal enough to go over the obstruction even in rough weather and deep-loaded—if it was there in their time. Modern steamers, though, draw more water; and, besides, it is possible that this submarine mountain was only hove up within the last quarter century. The Dominion Department of Marine has been reluctant, first to believe, and next to buoy it. The facts given below are mainly from the Daily Sun-Times of Owen Sound, which takes a deep interest in things nautical.

THE old Algoma Central Railway freighter, Leafield, had a terrifying passage across Lake Superior in 1909. The weather was fine and the sea as smooth as glass. The ship was about midway between Thunder Bay and Michipicoten Island and expected to begin unloading its cargo of steel rails from the Soo promptly on its arrival at Fort William. So that there would be no time lost in removing tarpaulins then, preparations had been begun to remove the coverings of two of them.

Suddenly the smooth lake began to boil all around the Leafield. Waves came over both sides. For 20 or 30 minutes this storm continued without a breeze. Then suddenly the lake became calm again.

When the ship reached Fort William the crew read about the earthquake that had been recorded over a considerable part of the earth's surface. The officers of the ship believed that they had passed over an "extinct" volcano that had been affected by the general seismic disturbance. But mariners scoffed at the story. They pointed out that the charts showed 168 fathoms of water at the spot—over a thousand feet, one of the deepest holes in Lake Superior.

Later on the steamer Emperor, Capt. Dave Burk, had a peculiar experience at the same spot. On his way to Fort William Capt Burk had fuelled at the Soo with waterwashed coal that had been recovered from a ship that had been sunk. About Michipicoten Island he started to use this clean fuel. It was hard to handle, running over the bars of the fire box. So the ship was stopped and a certain amount of water ballast put into her to prevent her rolling while the grates were being cleaned. Suddenly the ship bumped on something solid and slid off. Capt. Burk told the story at Fort William to more incredulous mariners. They also pointed out that the charts showed a thousand feet or so of water under the Emperor at this spot.

Then the steamer James E. Davidson, bound down from Slate Island in Lake Superior, during a snowstorm in November, suddenly received a head-on sea over her bow. The weight of the water on her deck released the device for heaving her two anchors. The chains snapped and the sea poured into the bow through the damaged hawse holes. The fore part of the ship settled several feet. She was kept afloat with difficulty. When she finally reached port the ship was almost foundering, drawing 26 feet of water at the bow. And on the fore part of the bottom of the ship was an immense dent, ten feet long, the result of her smashing down on a rock —a jar which had been felt by everybody on board. The scoffers looked at the dent and thought there must have been something in the captain's story.

Three trawlers were built at Fort William in 1918 for the Allies. They left there on November 22 in a howling gale, in charge of some salt water men. Two of them were never heard of again, and the third accidentally sighted Michipicoten Island through a snowstorm, and found refuge in Couzin's Cove there. Sixty-six men were lost in the other two.

Ten years ago the big 400-footer Midland Prince, Capt. Arch. McIntyre, reported bumping in this vicinity where there should have been nothing but deep water.

The Dominion Department of Marine was slow to believe anything but the charts—and the charts continued to proclaim 168 fathoms. A United States Hydrographic Survey ship went over the area with sounding apparatus set to ring at 20 fathoms, and ding! ding! ding! ding! went the indicator sure enough. Then the Dominion sent the true and tried old Bayfield out, and her lead found bottom quickly, too. It was so shoal that it seemed more like a wreck than a rock, and the arming or tallow in the lead did not show sand or gravel as expected. So they tried the grapnel and hooked on to something which yielded and gave like the rigging of a vessel, but could not be secured. The drag did, however, bring up an axe—an axe that had never been used.

It was certain that the Bayfield was sounding over the wreck of a steamer. And this steamer was lying on the slope or shoulder of a reef or shoal. Sailors hazarded the guess, based on the evidence of the new axe, that the wreck was one of the long missing war trawlers.

Surveys, were then begun and revealed a rocky bar, six miles long, of varying depth, but with only 18 feet of water on it in places. It might well be the crater-lip of a submarine volcano hove up in the disturbance of 1909, which the Leafield encountered. It "didn't use to be there," but it was there now all right, and there was no denying it.

Then it leaked out that American fishermen from Michigan and Minnesota knew of the existence of the shoal for at least 20 years before Government officials learned of it. These fishermen found very profitable work there for a generation netting lake trout. But for the last two or three years they have had to give up the area, to Canadian operators. It is said to furnish the best commercial fishing on Lake Superior.

Apparently the Department has a "down" on this shoal and feels that it has no right to be there, when the charts all along said deep water. Neither it has. But now that it has been located they refuse to mark it by buoy or beacon though they put it on the charts.

"For years," says the Sun-Times, "the Department maintained that the shoal was not in existence. Now that its presence has been proved they have had it marked on the charts. They should go the whole way and place a modern light and fog alarm on the danger spot.

"Deputations of marine men have on several occasions waited on the Minister, without success. The Hydrographic department seek to claim the impossibility of mooring a gas lighted whistling buoy on this shoal. This, of course, is 'passing the buck,' because such a buoy is quite practical. A similar one six miles west of Cove Island has borne the brunt of the storms for many years.

"It is a serious reflection on the Marine Department that the general opinion among marine men is that if this reef were in United States waters an up-to-date lighthouse and fog alarm would be built—perhaps similar to Spectacle Reef on Lake Huron or Stannard Rock on Superior, or such as the Canadian light off Point Pelee on Lake Erie, built miles away from mainland.

"The matter of sinking a huge cylinder of steel, or caisson lowered and secured to the rock and filled with concrete, is not considered difficult nowadays. This surmounted by a light-tower of steel, and equipped with radio compass and fog signals, make a most valued aid to navigation."

WHAT A LAKE SUPERIOR REEF CAN DO TO A BIG SHIP

These pictures from our good friend, Capt. Jas. McCannel, of the C.P.R. steamer Assiniboia, show the steamer George M. Cox after she ran out on the Rock of Ages, Isle Royale, Lake Superior, on the 27th of last May. Rock of Ages is a well-known menace, not connected with the mystery reef discussed below, but the pictures show what happens when the irresistible force strikes the immovable post. This reef has been the scene of many wrecks. They say the Cumberland, of Collingwood, was wrecked there July 20th, 1877, but Capt. McCannel points out that the chart shows a place further south marked Cumberland Point. The Geo. M. Cox landed high but not dry, was formerly the Puritan, built in Toledo, 1901. She was owned by the Michigan Transit Corporation, of Chicago, and carried a crew of 32. Her length was 259 feet, beam 40 feet 6 inches, depth 26 feet 6 inches, gross tonnage 1,762, net 1,267.