Demystifying Great Lakes Jargon — Summer 2001
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The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.
Senior Editor Richard F. Palmer discovered this piece on the loss of the Madeira in the October 20, 1871, issue of the Detroit Post and Tribune. It gives great insight on Great Lakes jargon. Just for fun, read the following and test your “lake speak.” Then turn the page for John Burke’s translation.
An example of an 1870s Great Lakes Schooner (Acacia) BGSU Historical Collections of the Great Lakes.
The Loss of the Madeira
Capt. Wm. Mack, of the lost schooner Madeira, is out with a letter in which he bitterly complains of the delay or cowardice of the Buffalo tug men not coming to his relief when telegraphed for. He wants to know if a competent tug is owned in Buffalo. The statement of the experience of himself and crew during the terrible storm reads more like romance than fact, namely:
It is well known what Sunday night, Oct. 7, was on Lake Erie. At 1 o’clock that night we were abreast of Conneaut, in twelve fathoms [60 feet] of water, with double-reefed [shortened] mainsail, double-reefed foresail, and staysail and jib on, steering east, trying to hold that depth of water along down, when a terrible squall struck us from the south and buried us up. All thought it was “good-by, John.” She straightened up however, and we found that she was listed a foot. Took in foresail and jib and held her close, when we saw both shores. She was drifting fast to the north shore and I saw that I must start her shied to get past Long Point.
Pulled up the foresail, gave her a little sheet, and headed east-southeast. But she wouldn’t live in the sea. She filled up five times. The last time I thought she was gone. Some of the crew started for the rigging. Had to settle the foresail down to keep her from foundering. I never saw such a sea for 20 years as I then saw. Our steering gear was jumping very hard, and it soon all broke in pieces [smashed]. I got the wheel chains to tackle, but one of them broke, and we were helpless. Blue seas would roll clean over us. Everything was swept overboard.
The boat was thrown clean over the davits and came down all broke. On striking five fathoms, we let go the big anchor and all the chain. It was a long one. We were then three miles off the beach. The seas never stopped at all but came over the knightheads and broke over the cabin. I never gave a canaler credit for living through such a time.
We held on all night. Dragged about half a mile, the shore people said. At daylight Tuesday morning, we hoisted a signal up. No oars, and only a broken boat to get to shore with. Three of us started. Nailed up the boat some and nailed canvas around her. Two boats started out to us, but could not get out. Lowered our boat to the water. Two of us got in, and kept her before the sea with a piece of broken oar that was lashed [tied] to the fore-rail.
Struck the surf, and the boat filled, and we struck out to land. I struck for Port Rowan just in sight. Got a punt and crossed the bay and telegraphed to Buffalo, as already stated.
When I got the tug, I intended to steer with chain over the quarter. No tug came, and we went on shore at Wednesday evening at 7 P.M. Had to get the woman cook on my back over the booms to the jib and tied her there. Some of the crew went into the cross-trees. We lost all our clothes.
In the morning the vessel was rails under. Two of us attempted to get a line to shore, but we had to let the line go and look out for ourselves. At 10 o’clock, with the assistance of Captain O’Donnell, of the St. Lawrence, and his mate, got the rest of the crew off the boom and we staid on the sand all night.
NOTE: The Madeira was out of Oswego, built there in 1871 by Geo. Goble, and was 137 feet keel and 322 gt. She was US#90321. The tug Oswego finally came from Detroit to rescue her, but it was too late and she went to pieces in place. She had been carrying grain from Milwaukee.
Translation in brackets by John A. Burke…
It is well known what Sunday night, Oct. 7, was on Lake Erie. At 1 o’clock that night we were abreast of [opposite] Conneaut, in twelve fathoms [60 feet] of water, with double-reefed [shortened] mainsail [2nd mast], double-reefed foresail [1st mast], and staysail [any fore-and-aft sail carried from a line which supports a mast forwards or backwards] and jib on [set], steering east, trying to hold that depth of water along down [steering to stay in the deepest water], when a terrible squall struck us from the south and buried us up [wind hit from our starboard beam and rolled us on our side]. All thought it was “good-by, John” [about to founder].
She [the boat] straightened up [uprighted] however, and we found that she was listed a foot [a foot off even keel]. Took in [removed and unrigged|] foresail and jib and held her close [steered as close as possible into the wind to maintain some headway, steerage and control], when we saw both shores [south shore of Erie on starboard, north shore, Long Point, on port side]. She was drifting fast [going sidewise] to the north shore and I saw that I must start her shied [must be very cautious] to get past Long Point [shallow water].
Pulled up [raised] the foresail, gave her a little sheet [loosened up the sail], and headed east-southeast. But she wouldn’t live in the sea [would not steer properly and maintain a course]. She filled up [took water on her decks] five times. The last time I thought she was gone [would sink]. Some of the crew started for [climbed] the rigging. Had to settle the foresail down [drop the foresail] to keep her from foundering.
I never saw such a sea for 20 years as I then saw. Our steering gear was jumping very hard [rudder and tiller lifting], and it soon all broke in pieces [smashed]. I got the wheel chains to tackle [fastened a rope tackle to the tiller and rudder to steer], but one of them broke, and we were helpless. Blue seas [solid water] would roll clean over us. Everything on deck] was swept overboard.
The boat [lifeboat or yawl hung on stern] was thrown clean over the davits [cranes fixed at side or back of vessel for holding, lowering and raising ship’s boats] and came down [on the deck] all broke. On striking five fathoms [30 feet], we let go [threw out] the big anchor and all the chain [attached to it]. It was a long one [a great length of anchor chain available aboard]. We were then three miles off the beach [shore]. The seas never stopped at all but came over the knightheads [anchor cranes] and broke over the cabin. I never gave a canaler [the ship was built lightly for canal service from Lake Ontario to Erie] credit for living [staying afloat] through such a time.
We held on all night. Dragged about half a mile, the shore people [observers on shore] said. At daylight Tuesday morning, we hoisted a signal up [sent a distress signal up the mast]. No oars, and only a broken boat to get to shore with. Three of us started [out for shore]. Nailed up the boat some and nailed canvas around her [to cover holes in the hull]. Two boats started out to us [from shore], but could not get out [obviously, impeded by the surf]. Lowered our boat [lifeboat] to the water. Two of us got in, and kept her before [headed into] the sea with a piece of broken oar that was lashed [tied] to the fore-rail [as a rudder].
Struck the surf [captured by the surf], and the boat filled [with water], and we struck out [were carried] to land. I struck [headed] for Port Rowan just in sight. Got a punt [small rowboat] and crossed the bay and telegraphed to Buffalo, as already stated.
When I got the tug, I intended to steer with chain over the quarter [??]. No tug came, and we went on shore at Wednesday evening at 7 P.M. Had to get the woman cook on my back [carried her] over the booms [fallen spars] to the jib [bows] and tied her there [she must have been delirious]. Some of the crew went into the cross-trees [top of the lower masts]. We lost all our clothes.
In the morning the vessel was rails under [sunk in shallow water]. Two of us attempted to get a line to shore, but we had to let the line go and look out for ourselves. At 10 o’clock, with the assistance of Captain O’Donnell, of the St. Lawrence [another ship], and his mate, got the rest of the crew off the boom [off the rigging] and we staid on the sand [stayed on the beach] all night.
[Can any reader venture an opinion on “When I got the tug, I intended to steer with chain over the quarter”? Ed.]
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