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Mr George Henry Cavell was born in Southampton, Hampshire, England on 4 December 1889.

His parents were George Henry Cavell (1863-1927), a marine fireman, and Alice Florence Purkiss (1865-1945), both Hampshire natives who had married in Southampton in 1888.

One of a reported thirteen children, his only known siblings were: Ellen Jane (1884-1959, later Mrs Alfred Mainer), Rose Mathilda (1886-1907), Alice Florence (b. 1887), Lily Elizabeth (b. 1895), Alice Maud (b. 1898) and Frederick Ernest (b. 1901).

Cavell first appears on the 1891 census living with his family at 28 Chapel Street, St Mary, Southampton and by the time of the 1901 census the family were living at 25 Chantry Road, Southampton and his father was by then described as a general labourer.

The family had moved to 46 Russell Street in the same city by the time of the 1911 census although George is absent from the household and was listed elsewhere at Bermuda House.

George, who was unmarried, signed on to the Titanic on 6 April 1912, giving his address as Lower East Road, Sholing. He had previously served on Adriatic, Oceanic, and Olympic, before joining the Titanic and had worked with the White Star Line for eighteen months by that point.
On the evening of 14 April Cavell was on the 8 to 12 watch, and was alone in the starboard coal bunker in boiler room 4 at the time of the collision. He felt a shock and the piles of coal around him collapsed, covering him and from which he had a job freeing himself. Hearing warning bells that the watertight doors were closing, Cavell then managed to get into the stokehold but upon arriving he was surprised by the lights suddenly extinguishing. He then left the stokehold via an escape ladder to fetch lamps and went to Scotland Road where he saw steerage passengers heading aft, many wet through and clinging to lifebelts, being told to remain calm by stewards; it was here he ascertained from a colleague that the ship had struck an iceberg.

He fetched the lamps and returned to the stokehold but by the time he had returned the lights had come back on and he received orders to start drawing the fires. Whilst doing this water started to flood through the floor plates which rose about a foot before Cavell left his station and returned to Scotland Road but found it deserted. Believing that there was no danger Cavell briefly returned to boiler room 4 but found it deserted. He again made his way up top where he went to the aft boat deck.

Upon reaching the aft starboard boat deck Cavell noted that there were still a few lifeboats remaining; one was still hanging in the davits (#15) whilst the other was being lowered (#13) and the only people on deck where a handful of firemen and the crew lowering the boat, including an unidentified officer. The officer ordered Cavell and the other firemen into lifeboat 15 and it was lowered flush with A-deck to receive passengers but only five came forward. Boat 15 was then lowered again to become flush with B-deck and calls for more passengers was met with a large crowd of third-class passengers appearing and gathering around, which Cavell estimated to be around sixty in total and what he believed to be all women and children and with a few men standing back. He also noted that the majority of the crowd seemed to be Irish women.

With lifeboat 15 heavily laden with an estimated 70 survivors aboard, fireman Frank Dymond took charge.

Cavell was called to testify at the British Inquiry on 9 May 1912 and received expenses of £11, 6s.

George returned to the sea, serving on ships including the Olympic, Braemar Castle, Carnarvon Castle, Armadale Castle, Warwick Castle and Rothesay Castle and continued to serve in the merchant service throughout the duration of WWI.

He was married in Southampton in 1919 to Kate Elizabeth Barber (b. 7 January 1885); the couple would have no children.

Cavell later left the sea and worked as a fitter’s mate; by the time of the 1939 register he and his wife were residents of 2, The Popes Buildings in Southampton.

George Henry Cavell died in Winchester, Hampshire on 21 July 1966, his wife Kate Elizabeth died 11 November 1967 and they are both buried together in Hollybrook Cemetery Southampton (section L16, plot 46, possibly an unmarked grave).

George Henry Cavell signed up to serve on the new ocean liner Titanic on her maiden voyage. On the evening of April 14, 1912, George was assigned to the coal bunker, and was alone when that great ship hit the iceberg. He worked with the crew to secure the ship as best they could, but then was ordered by an officer into a lifeboat.

One of the passengers aboard the Titanic was a man named John Harper, a Baptist pastor from Scotland who was on his way to Chicago to preach a series of revival meetings—his second trip to do so. He did not make it into a lifeboat, and he was one of the hundreds of people who drowned that night. Before he died, however, he spent his final moments urging people to come to Christ. Anytime someone drifted close to where he was, he would ask them, “Are you saved?”

George Henry Cavell replied from a lifeboat, “No,” to which Harper shouted above the noise the words of Acts 16:31, “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved.” Harper drifted away. Later, Harper drifted back within sight of the lifeboat. From the frigid water, once more the dying Harper shouted the question, “Are you saved?” Once again he received the answer, “No.” Harper repeated the words of Acts 16:31, “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved,” before he drifted away again.

The frigid water of the North Atlantic took John Harper’s life, and his body was never recovered. But George put his faith in Jesus Christ.

Later he was rescued by the lifeboats of the S.S. Carpathia. In Hamilton, Ontario, George Henry Cavell testified that he was John Harper’s last convert. With his dying breaths John Harper was urging people to come to Christ, because he knew there wasn’t much time; that was the last opportunity for many of them.

Without being too dramatic, the truth is that none of us knows when our last opportunity has arrived. So allow me to ask: “Are you saved?”

If the answer is “No,” or you do not know how to answer that question, please pay attention to the words of Acts 16:31 as if your life depended on it–because it does. “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved.”

Miss Annie Jessie Harper, often known as Nana or Nina, was born on 3 January 1906 in Govan, Lanarkshire, Scotland.

She was the daughter of John Harper (b. 1872), an evangelical pastor and a native of Renfrewshire, and the former Annie Leckie Bell (b. 1866), also a native of Govan and who had previously worked as a dressmaker. John and Annie had married in 1903 and Annie was fated to be their only child when her mother died following complications arising from childbirth on 8 January 1906. Her mother’s niece Jessie Wills Leitch, a Renfrewshire native who had lived with Annie much of her life, stepped in to help take care of baby Nana. This was imperative as John Harper worked and preached throughout Britain and Ireland, including North America.

Her father later became pastor of the Walworth Road Baptist Church in London and they moved to that city. They were listed on the 1911 census living at 3 Claude Villas, Love Walk, Camberwell.

Nana, her father and her cousin Jessie boarded the Titanic at Southampton as second class passengers (joint ticket number 248727 which cost £33) and they were travelling to the Moody Church in Chicago, Illinois. She is listed in the passenger list as Nina Harper.

Jessie Leitch later recalled the events on the night of the sinking:

“… About midnight Mr Harper came to our stateroom and told us that the vessel had struck an iceberg. While I was dressing he went to learn further particulars and returned to say that the order had been given to put on the life belts. We did so, and, picking up Nana in his arms, he took her up to the deck. There the women were ordered to the upperdeck. I had to climb a vertical iron ladder and Mr Harper brought Nana after me up the ladder and the men at the top lifted her up to me again… There was no opportunity for farewell, and, in fact, even then we did not realize the danger, as we were assured again and again that the vessel could not sink, that the Olympic would be alongside at any minute, and that the women and children were to be put into the boats first and the men to follow, and that there were boats sufficient for all. Our boat was well manned–it was the eleventh to leave the vessel… After about half an hour the Titanic went down. We were about a mile away.”

Nana’s own recollections were sparse but she later recalled sitting on her cousin Jessie’s knee as she watched the Titanic sink and she later recalled the noise of those struggling in the water.

Jessie and Nana are believed to have been rescued in lifeboat 11 but Pastor Harper was lost in the sinking. Following their rescue by Carpathia they were not given a cabin but slept in a library aboard ship. Arriving in New York, still in the clothes they wore to leave the Titanic, Jessie and Nana were met by the Reverend Ervine Wooley, the assistant pastor of Moody Church. Jessie elected not to continue to Chicago and decided instead to return to England at the earliest available opportunity and arrived aboard the Celtic on 25 April.

Nana, now an orphan, returned to England and was apparently raised by an uncle and aunt in London. In 1921 she performed the opening ceremony of the Harper Memorial Baptist Church in Glasgow, which was dedicated to her father’s memory. During her upbringing, however, discussion of Titanic was discouraged by her family.

She later worked at Riglands Bible College in London and it was there that she met Philip Roy Pont (b. 1903), an alumnus of All Saints Bible College and a native of Heathfield, Sussex, the son of a grocer. The pair were married in London in the closing months of 1934 and they had two children: Gordon and Mary (later Dr Gurling).

The family moved back to Scotland around 1936 where Philip was the pastor at a Baptist Church in Denny, Falkirk before they moved to Shetland followed by Dundee and eventually Glasgow. Philip retired in around 1984 and they settled in Burnside, Lanarkshire.

Nana, known more frequently as Nan in her later years, continued to live in Burnside but had few memories of her time on Titanic. She therefore spoke little about that experience in her life but did keep in regular contact with the Titanic community and with fellow survivor Eva Hart who remembered playing with her on Titanic as a child, past exchanges that Nan had no recollections of.

Nan Harper Pont died at her home on 10 April 1986 aged 80, 74 years to the day when Titanic had departed from Southampton. She was buried in Moffat Cemetery and left behind her husband Philip (who died in 1995) and her two children and their families.

References and Sources
Glasgow Herald, 11 April 1986, Death Notice

Annie Jessie Harper was born on 3rd January 1906, her mother died just 5 days later. Her father, a Baptist Preacher, decided in 1912 to travel to Chicago to preach at a Church there. He booked 3 second class berths on RMS Titanic for himself, his sister Jessie Wills Leitch and his daughter Annie Jessie Harper (known as Nan).

When the ship struck the infamous iceberg on the night of 14th April 1912 John Harper wakened his sister & grabbed a sleeping Nan from her berth, wrapping her in a blanket before taking them up on deck. There he kissed Nan goodbye, handed her to a crewman and watched as she and her aunt were safely stowed in a lifeboat, John remained on board to give support to the distressed passengers- he went down with the ship. Many years later Nan recalled that she was sitting on her aunt’s lap when she saw the Titanic sink and she remembered watching the lights go out and hearing the screams of the drowning.

Rescued by the Carpathia and taken to New York, Nan and her aunt returned to England later that same month. Nan was brought up by her father’s brother George Harper. It was when Nan was at Riglands Bible College that she met Philip Roy Pont who she married in London in 1934. Philip Roy Pont was ordained and in 1964 the couple moved to Moffat when Reverend Pont took charge at St. John’s Episcopal Church where he preached for the next 20 years. They lived in St. John’s Vicarage at 3 Mansfield Place in Moffat.

Nan died on the 10th April 1986; 74 years to the day after the Titanic set sail from Southampton. Jim Storrar (Moffat Miscellany Volume 2, pp145-146) describes her: “Nan was a wonderfully gentle and kind person, and her voice was a soft Glasgow brogue. When she was 72, she was asked if she would like to see the Titanic raised “I don’t see much point in it after all this time,” she replied.”

Both Nan and her husband are buried in Moffat New Cemetery.

The final letter sent by an unsung hero of the Titanic disaster who sacrificed his own life for others has been unearthed almost 110 years later.

John Harper placed his six-year-old daughter Nina and niece into lifeboat 11 but gave up the chance to go with her so another woman or child could be saved.

He did so knowing the decision would likely make his daughter an orphan as her mother had previously died.

As the liner began to sink Mr Harper, a Baptist minister, ran along the flooded decks, preaching the gospel to anyone who would listen.

He also gave away his own lifejacket to another men, telling him ‘you need this more than I do’, before going down with the ship.

He is also said to have preached to those in the freezing water after the liber sank, dying in it himself. He was 39.

His niece Jessie went to be the longest-living Scottish Titanic survivor and died in 1986.

Three days before the 1912 disaster, the pastor , from Houston, Renfrewshire in Scotland, wrote a last letter home to his great-grandfather, Charles Livingstone, of 5 Porter Street, Glasgow.

The letter is written on White Star Line headed notepaper
In it he told him of the ‘glorious time’ he, his daughter and niece – who also survived – had been having on the Titanic.

He wrote the note on White Star Line headed notepaper while the Titanic was en route from Cherbourg to Ireland.

The never-before-seen letter was posted at Queenstown (Cork), which was the doomed liner’s last port of call.

It remained in the family but has now been put up for sale for the first time.

It is being sold by Henry Aldridge and Son Auctioneers of Devizes, Wilts, and has a pre-sale estimate of £50,000.

Mr Harper was known to be an engaging and impressive pastor and was on his way to America to serve at the Moody Church in Chicago.

He and his daughter and niece, Jessie Leitch, boarded Titanic at Southampton on April 10 for her maiden voyage to New York.

A famous photograph showing a little girl holding her father’s hand as they walked on the second class promenade during the voyage is believed to be Mr Harper and Nina.

John Harper (29 May 1872 – 15 April 1912) was a Scottish Baptist pastor who died in the sinking of the RMS Titanic in the North Atlantic Ocean.

Early life

Harper was born in the village of Houston, Renfrewshire, Scotland, in 1872. He personally embraced his parents’ Christian faith at age 14 and began preaching at 18. He supported himself in early adulthood by doing manual labor in a mill until Baptist pastor E.A. Carter of Baptist Pioneer Mission in London heard of his preaching and placed him in ministry work in Govan, Scotland.

Paisley Road Baptist Church
In 1897, he became the first pastor of Paisley Road Baptist Church in Glasgow, Scotland. Under his care, the church quickly grew from 25 members to over 500 and soon moved to a new location on Plantation Street. In 1923, it moved into its present building on Craigiehall Street and was renamed Harper Memorial Baptist Church in his honor.

Titanic: final preaching and death
At the time of the Titanic disaster, Harper was 39, a widower with a six-year-old daughter, Annie Jessie (Nana), and pastor of Walworth Road Baptist Church in London. He was traveling with his daughter and niece Jessie W. Leitch to Chicago to preach for several weeks at the Moody Church, where he had been guest minister the previous fall, when the ship hit an iceberg on the night of 14 April 1912, and was lost. His daughter and niece were put on a lifeboat and survived, but Harper stayed behind and jumped into the water as the ship began to sink. Some who survived told that Harper preached the Gospel to the end (especially Acts 16:31), first aboard the sinking ship and then afterward to those in the freezing water before dying in it himself.

The sinking of the White Star liner RMS Titanic on 14 April 1912 was international news. Titanic on her maiden voyage to New York struck a floating iceberg off the coast of Newfoundland, Canada. The vessel was sunk by the collision, and tragically 1500 passengers and crew were drowned.

Over the days following, the disaster local newspapers carried reports of the people of Renfrewshire caught up in the tragedy. Reading the Paisley and Renfrewshire Gazette of 27 April 1912, mention is made of one native of Renfrewshire who was highlighted for his brave actions as the Titanic sank. This was Pastor John Harper.

John Harper was born at Woodside Cottage in the village of Houston on 29 May 1872 to George and Rachel Harper. John and his brothers and sisters were brought up in the Baptist faith. By the age of eighteen John was preaching at local church meetings and beginning to gather a reputation for his evangelical style of delivery. John also worked at several local factories including the Stoddard’s carpet factory in Elderslie, the very factory that would one day make carpets for the Titanic, but he knew that his future was in the preaching of his Baptist faith. In 1897, John was given the opportunity to be the Pastor to the congregation of the Baptist mission in Govan at the Paisley Road Church. John’s style of preaching and ministry saw the congregation grow from just twenty-five to over five hundred and the church moved to a larger building in Plantation Street, Glasgow.

Following on from this John moved to be the Pastor to the congregation at Walworth Road Baptist Church in London. For some months in Autumn 1911 John was the guest Pastor at the Moody Church in Chicago, USA.

In his personal life John Harper married Anne Leckie Bell on 28 April 1903. On 1 January 1906, the couple welcomed the birth of a daughter. She was named Annie Jessie. On 8 January 1906 however, John’s wife Anne passed away from complications following childbirth. Anne’s unmarried niece Jessie Leitch joined the family at this time to care for the young child.

At the beginning of 1912, the congregation of the Moody Church asked John Harper to return to Chicago and he accepted this request accompanied by his six-year-old daughter and his niece Jessie Leitch. Setting sail in second class accommodation aboard the Titanic and looking forward to seeing friends in Chicago must have been an exciting prospect for Pastor Harper cut short by the tragedy which unfolded on the night of 14 April 1912.

After being made aware of the collision with the Iceberg, John rushed his daughter and niece to the lifeboats, before running back through the ship, alerting passengers to the danger and evangelised to the unsaved. Pastor Harper’s brave actions that night after ensuring his daughter and niece were safely in a lifeboat were recorded by several survivors. These included passing his own life belt to another passenger; reassuring other passengers whilst offering prayers for them and when he eventually had to jump into the icy waters, he was seen swimming between survivors clinging to debris and wreckage offering reassurance and prayers. Pastor Harper succumbed to hypothermia before rescue could reach him. A passenger who was later rescued by a lifeboat, noted his last interaction with John as they both clung to pieces of wreckage in the Atlantic. “Are you saved?” John yelled to him. When the passenger responded “No” John made his plea; “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and you will be saved”. The passenger could not respond and John would repeat again; “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and you will be saved”. It is believed that these are the last words of the reverend.

Pastor Harper’s body was never recovered but his daughter and niece both survived the disaster. There is no doubt that the actions of Pastor John Harper that night gave not only practical support in the form of a life belt for another passenger but also solace to others in a highly distressed situation.

“The fear of death did not for one minute disturb me. I believed that sudden death would be sudden glory.”

~ Revered John Harper

Annie Jessie (Harper ‘s six-year-old daughter) and her aunt arrived safely in New York, rescued by the Carpathia, and only then learned of her father’s heroic death. She went on to be the oldest Scottish Titanic survivor.

The legend of the Edmund Fitzgerald remains the most mysterious and controversial of all shipwreck tales heard around the Great Lakes. Her story is surpassed in books, film and media only by that of the Titanic. Canadian folksinger Gordon Lightfoot inspired popular interest in this vessel with his 1976 ballad, “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.”

The Edmund Fitzgerald was lost with her entire crew of 29 men on Lake Superior November 10, 1975, 17 miles north-northwest of Whitefish Point, Michigan. Whitefish Point is the site of the Whitefish Point Light Station and Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum. The Great Lakes Shipwreck Historical Society (GLSHS) has conducted three underwater expeditions to the wreck, 1989, 1994, and 1995.

Fitzgerald’s Bell

Fitzgerald’s 200 lb. bronze bell was recovered on July 4, 1995. This expedition was conducted jointly with the Great Lakes Shipwreck Historical Society, National Geographic Society, Canadian Navy, Sony Corporation, and Sault Ste. Marie Tribe of Chippewa Indians. The bell is now on display in the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum at Whitefish Point as a memorial to her lost crew.

About the Ship
The S.S. Edmund Fitzgerald was conceived as a business enterprise of the Northwestern Mutual Life Insurance Company of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Northwestern Mutual contracted with Great Lakes Engineering Works of Ecorse, Michigan to construct a “maximum sized” Great Lakes bulk carrier. Her keel was laid on August 7, 1957 as Hull No. 301.

Named after the President and Chairman of the Board of Northwestern Mutual, Fitzgerald was launched June 8, 1958 at River Rouge, Michigan. Northwestern Mutual placed her under permanent charter to the Columbia Transportation Division of Oglebay Norton Company, Cleveland, Ohio. At 729 feet and 13,632 gross tons she was the largest ship on the Great Lakes, for thirteen years, until 1971.

The Fitzgerald’s normal course during her productive life took her between Silver Bay, Minnesota, where she loaded taconite, to steel mills on the lower lakes in the Detroit and Toledo area. She was usually empty on her return trip to Silver Bay. On November 9, 1975 Fitzgerald was to transport a load of taconite from Superior, Wisconsin, to Zug Island, Detroit, Michigan.

Learn some of the “odd” things that happened during the launch of the Fitzgerald in 1958 in this short story!

Launch Date – June 8, 1958

The Fateful Journey
by Sean Ley, Development Officer

The final voyage of the Edmund Fitzgerald began November 9, 1975 at the Burlington Northern Railroad Dock No.1, Superior, Wisconsin. Captain Ernest M. McSorley had loaded her with 26,116 long tons of taconite pellets, made of processed iron ore, heated and rolled into marble-size balls. Departing Superior about 2:30 pm, she was soon joined by the Arthur M. Anderson, which had departed Two Harbors, Minnesota under Captain Bernie Cooper. The two ships were in radio contact. The Fitzgerald being the faster took the lead, with the distance between the vessels ranging from 10 to 15 miles.

Aware of a building November storm entering the Great Lakes from the great plains, Captain McSorley and Captain Cooper agreed to take the northerly course across Lake Superior, where they would be protected by highlands on the Canadian shore. This took them between Isle Royale and the Keweenaw Peninsula. They would later make a turn to the southeast to eventually reach the shelter of Whitefish Point.

Weather conditions continued to deteriorate. Gale warnings had been issued at 7 pm on November 9, upgraded to storm warnings early in the morning of November 10. While conditions were bad, with winds gusting to 50 knots and seas 12 to 16 feet, both Captains had often piloted their vessels in similar conditions. In the early afternoon of November 10, the Fitzgerald had passed Michipicoten Island and was approaching Caribou Island. The Anderson was just approaching Michipicoten, about three miles off the West End Light.

Captain Cooper maintained that he watched the Edmund Fitzgerald pass far too close to Six Fathom Shoal to the north of Caribou Island. He could clearly see the ship and the beacon on Caribou on his radar set and could measure the distance between them. He and his officers watched the Fitzgerald pass right over the dangerous area of shallow water. By this time, snow and rising spray had obscured the Fitzgerald from sight, visible 17 miles ahead on radar.

At 3:30 pm that afternoon, Captain McSorley radioed Captain Cooper and said: “Anderson, this is the Fitzgerald. I have a fence rail down, two vents lost or damaged, and a list. I’m checking down. Will you stay by me till I get to Whitefish?” McSorley was checking down his speed to allow the Anderson to close the distance for safety. Captain Cooper asked McSorley if he had his pumps going, and McSorley said, “Yes, both of them.”

As the afternoon wore on, radio communications with the Fitzgerald concerned navigational information but no extraordinarily alarming reports were offered by Captain McSorley. At about 5:20 pm the crest of a wave smashed the Anderson’s starboard lifeboat, making it unusable. Captain Cooper reported winds from the NW x W (305 ) at a steady 58 knots with gusts to 70 knots, and seas of 18 to 25 feet.

According to Captain Cooper, about 6:55 pm, he and the men in the Anderson’s pilothouse felt a “bump”, felt the ship lurch, and then turned to see a monstrous wave engulfing their entire vessel from astern. The wave worked its way along the deck, crashing on the back of the pilothouse, driving the bow of the Anderson down into the sea.

“Then the Anderson just raised up and shook herself off of all that water – barrooff – just like a big dog. Another wave just like the first one or bigger hit us again. I watched those two waves head down the lake towards the Fitzgerald, and I think those were the two that sent her under.”

Keeping Watch
Morgan Clark, first mate of the Anderson, kept watching the Fitzgerald on the radar set to calculate her distance from some other vessels near Whitefish Point. He kept losing sight of the Fitzgerald on the radar from sea return, meaning that seas were so high they interfered with the radar reflection. First mate Clark spoke to the Fitzgerald one last time, about 7:10 pm:

“Fitzgerald, this is the Anderson. Have you checked down?”

“Yes, we have.”

“Fitzgerald, we are about 10 miles behind you, and gaining about 1 1/2 miles per hour. Fitzgerald, there is a target 19 miles ahead of us. So the target would be 9 miles on ahead of you.”

“Well,” answered Captain McSorley, “Am I going to clear?”

“Yes, he is going to pass to the west of you.”

“Well, fine.”

“By the way, Fitzgerald, how are you making out with your problems?” asked Clark.

“We are holding our own.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll be talking to you later.” Clark signed off.

The radar signal, or “pip” of the Fitzgerald kept getting obscured by sea return. And around 7:15 pm, the pip was lost again, but this time, did not reappear. Clark called the Fitzgerald again at about 7:22 pm. There was no answer.

Captain Cooper contacted the other ships in the area by radio asking if anyone had seen or heard from the Fitzgerald. The weather had cleared dramatically. His written report states:

“At this time I became very concerned about the Fitzgerald – couldn’t see his lights when we should have. I then called the William Clay Ford to ask him if my phone was putting out a good signal and also if perhaps the Fitzgerald had rounded the point and was in shelter, after a negative report I called the Soo Coast Guard because I was sure something had happened to the Fitzgerald. The Coast Guard were at this time trying to locate a 16-foot boat that was overdue.”

With mounting apprehension, Captain Cooper called the Coast Guard once again, about 8:00 pm, and firmly expressed his concern for the welfare of the Fitzgerald. The Coast Guard then initiated its search for the missing ship. By that time the Anderson had reached the safety of Whitefish Bay to the relief of all aboard. But the Coast Guard called Captain Cooper back at 9:00 pm:

“Anderson, this is Group Soo. What is your present position?”

“We’re down here, about two miles off Parisienne Island right now…the wind is northwest forty to forty-five miles here in the bay.”

“Is it calming down at all, do you think?”

“In the bay it is, but I heard a couple of the salties talking up there, and they wish they hadn’t gone out.”

“Do you think there is any possibility and you could…ah…come about and go back there and do any searching?”

“Ah…God, I don’t know…ah…that…that sea out there is tremendously large. Ah…if you want me to, I can, but I’m not going to be making any time; I’ll be lucky to make two or three miles an hour going back out that way.”

“Well, you’ll have to make a decision as to whether you will be hazarding your vessel or not, but you’re probably one of the only vessels right now that can get to the scene. We’re going to try to contact those saltwater vessels and see if they can’t possibly come about and possibly come back also…things look pretty bad right now; it looks like she may have split apart at the seams like the Morrell did a few years back.”

“Well, that’s what I been thinking. But we were talking to him about seven and he said that everything was going fine. He said that he was going along like an old shoe; no problems at all.”

“Well, again, do you think you could come about and go back and have a look in the area?”

“Well, I’ll go back and take a look, but God, I’m afraid I’m going to take a hell of a beating out there… I’ll turn around and give ‘er a whirl, but God, I don’t know. I’ll give it a try.”

“That would be good.”

“Do you realize what the conditions are out there?”

No reply from the Coast Guard. Captain Cooper tries again.

“Affirmative. From what your reports are I can appreciate the conditions. Again, though, I have to leave that decision up to you as to whether it would be hazarding your vessel or not. If you think you can safely go back up to the area, I would request that you do so. But I have to leave the decision up to you.”

“I’ll give it a try, but that’s all I can do.”

The Anderson turned out to be the primary vessel in the search, taking the lead. With the ship pounding and rolling badly, the crew of the Anderson discovered the Fitzgerald’s two lifeboats and other debris but no sign of survivors. Only one other vessel, the William Clay Ford, was able to leave the safety of Whitefish Bay to join in the search at the time. The Coast Guard launched a fixed-wing HU-16 aircraft at 10 pm and dispatched two cutters, the Naugatuck and the Woodrush. The Naugatuck arrived at 12:45 pm on November 11, and the Woodrush arrived on November 14, having journeyed all the way from Duluth, Minnesota.

The Coast Guard conducted an extensive and thorough search. On November 14, a U.S. Navy plane equipped with a magnetic anomaly detector located a strong contact 17 miles north-northwest of Whitefish Point. During the following three days, the Coast Guard cutter Woodrush, using a sidescan sonar, located two large pieces of wreckage in the same area. Another sonar survey was conducted November 22-25.

Finding the Fitzgerald
The following May, 1976, Woodrush was again on the scene to conduct a third sidescan sonar survey. Contacts were strong enough to bring in the U.S. Navy’s CURV III controlled underwater recovery vehicle, operating from Woodrush.

The CURV III unit took 43,000 feet of video tape and 900 photographs of the wreck. On May 20, 1976, the words “Edmund Fitzgerald” were clearly seen on the stern, upside down, 535 feet below the surface of the lake.

On April 15, 1977 the U.S. Coast Guard released its official report of “Subject: S.S. Edmund Fitzgerald, official number 277437, sinking in Lake Superior on 10 November 1975 with loss of life.” While the Coast Guard said the cause of the sinking could not be conclusively determined, it maintained that “the most probable cause of the sinking of the S.S. Edmund Fitzgerald was the loss of buoyancy and stability resulting from massive flooding of the cargo hold. The flooding of the cargo hold took place through ineffective hatch closures as boarding seas rolled along the spar deck.”

However, the Lake Carrier’s Association vigorously disagreed with the Coast Guard’s suggestion that the lack of attention to properly closing the hatch covers by the crew was responsible for the disaster. They issued a letter to the National Transportation Safety Board in September, 1977. The Lake Carrier’s Association was inclined to accept that Fitzgerald passed over the Six Fathom Shoal Area as reported by Captain Cooper.

Later, in a videotaped conversation with GLSHS, Captain Cooper said that he always believed McSorley knew something serious had happened to Fitzgerald as the ship passed over Caribou Shoal. Cooper believes that from that point on, McSorley knew he was sinking.

Conflicting theories about the cause of the tragedy remain active today. GLSHS’ three expeditions to the wreck revealed that it is likely she “submarined” bow first into an enormous sea, as damage forward is indicative of a powerful, quick force to the superstructure. But what caused the ship to take on water, enough to lose buoyancy and dive to the bottom so quickly, without a single cry for help, cannot be determined.

Twenty-nine men were lost when the Fitzgerald went down. There is absolutely no conclusive evidence to determine the cause of the sinking. The bell of the ship is now on display in the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum as a memorial to her lost crew.

THE FAMOUS “PRAYING JOHNNY

This eminent saint of God labored in England during the early history of Methodism. His biographer, Harvey Leigh, says: “Our brother was an extraordinary man in the importunity and prevalence of his prayers. What has been said of the strength and constancy of his faith may be said, with equal propriety, of his importunate and prevalent prayers; that is, he was second to none. In fact, we need not be surprised at this, for generally these two excellences walk hand in hand. For some years he was known in the religious world to thousands by the singular name of ‘Praying Johnny.’ This epithet he justified in the whole of his conduct. His prayers were long and very fervent in his own closet.

Mr. Bottomley, who was stationed with him in the Halifax circuit, says: ‘During the time of his stay at Halifax, he was much given up to prayer, and generally spent about six hours each day upon his knees, pleading earnestly with God, in behalf of himself, the church and sinners, whose salvation he most ardently desired.

“Frequently, when harassed by any particular temptation, when concerned about the temporal condition of any person in dangerous affliction, when under engagement to pray for one who was troubled with an evil spirit, when foiled some late attempt to do good, when travailing in anguish of mind for a revival of religion in the neighborhood in which he was laboring, and when deeply anxious to see the glory of the Lord revealed, he has spent many hours in the most decided abstinence and secluded retirement; and has sometimes, in this manner, devoted whole days and nights to God. “In the public services of the sanctuary, John had great influence with God in prayer. In answer to the earnest breathings of his soul, a whole assembly has been moved as the trees are moved when shaken with a strong wind. A mighty shaking has been felt, and a great noise heard, amongst the dry bones. The breath of Jehovah has been felt, numbers among the slain have been quickened, and a great army has been raised up.”A strange fact connected with the history of this good man, and strikingly illustrative of his close communion with God in prayer, and of the results of such communion, we shall here relate.

When in Hull circuit, he visited Burlington Quay, and was rendered eminently useful. When there, his home was with Mr. Stephenson, whose family was one of the most influential in the place. Their mercantile engagements were numerous; at home they carried on a considerable business, and were extensively connected with the shipping department. About the year 1825, Mr. Stephenson had a ship at sea, on a foreign and distant voyage, about the safety of which he and the family began to feel anxious. There had not been any tidings of the vessel extending over a period far beyond what they had expected. And what tended much to increase their solicitude, they had a son on board for whom they feared the worst – feared that they should see him no more. At this time Mr. Oxtoby was sojourning in the family, and was painfully concerned at witnessing their anxiety. Pressed in spirit for them, and desirous to be the instrument of their relief, he fell back upon his usual and safe resort-special fasting and protracted prayer to God– in which he besought the Almighty to give him an assurance whether the ship was really lost, or whether it would return home in safety. In his protracted travail, he clearly ascertained that the ship, which had been the object of so much solicitude, was not lost, but that it and the son for whose safety the family were so anxious, would, in due course, return in safety, and that all would be well. This welcome intelligence he communicated to the anxious family; and did it with as much confidence as characterized St. Paul’s mind, when he uttered his noble speech to the embarrassed ship’s crew, while they drew near to the island of Melita, and, contrary to all human appearance, assured them that not a hair of their heads should perish. Rut high as our brother stood in the estimation of the family, and exalted as was their opinion of his extraordinary piety, and the power and prevalency of his prayers, yet his calm and positive assertions on this subject almost exceeded the powers of their belief; and though they did not distrust them, they staggered at them. But John remained unmoved. He smiled at their doubts; reiterated his expressions of confidence; told them that God had ‘shown him the ship while at prayer;’ that he was as certain of her safe return as if she were in the harbor then; and that when the vessel returned, though he had never seen her, excepting when revealed to him in prayer, he should know her, and could easily distinguish her from any other.

Time rolled on, John pursued his work, and the family remained anxious, when news reached them, one day, that the vessel was safe and on her way home. It soon after arrived, at which time Mr. Oxtoby was about ten miles distant in the country. The Stephenson family were, however, so delighted with the occurrence-with the realization of all/~their devoted friend had uttered-with the accomplishment of what, to them, appeared like a prediction, and from which the good man had never wavered-no, not for a moment-that a gig was immediately sent for him, by which he was to return with the least possible delay. When he reached Burlington Quay, Mr. Stephenson asked him if he should know the ship about which he had sought Divine counsel, providing he could see her. ‘I should,’ said John; ‘God so clearly revealed her, to me in prayer, that I could distinguish her among a hundred.’ Then they walked out on the pier, and on their left were many vessels, some near and some remote, floating at anchor in the spacious bay. Among them John looked, and exclaimed; while pointing in a certain direction : ‘That’s the ship which God showed me while at prayer. I knew she would come home safely, and that I should see her.’ We need scarcely add that in this he was correct; and that this last particular of the strange account filled Mr. Stephenson with overwhelming amazement.” – Shining Lights.