Odyssey Marine & Co
Sturgeon Bay | 09:32:10 A.M
"Hey," Greg said as he fluffed out an old newspaper. The pages weren't white, but a light brown. There were small rips and cuts in the paper; which were signs of how old the paper is. "Look at this."
Greg pushed his chair back and stood up. He moved other papers and folders out of the way on the table. Laying the newspaper out, he pointed at the heading on the front page. The article read:
!! BREAKING NEWS !!
May 06, 1967
Midwestern Cruises Under Heavy Scrutiny
After Vessel, S.S Allure, Sinks. Death Toll
Rises Past 80 Victims
Written By: Andrea Webster | Published By: Patrick Sweeney
May 06, 1967 – 08:32:11 A.M
Midwestern Cruises, LLC, a privately-held cruise line is under heavy scrutiny this morning after their newest vessel, S.S Allure, sinks. Much is still unknown, and it may be awhile before answers are released to the public. Authorities are still searching the area for possible survivors, debris, and victims' bodies. As of this posting, the death toll rests at eighty-three.
The S.S Allure set sail on her maiden voyage last year on April 19, 1966 shortly after 10:30 A.M. Everything was going as planned and remained uneventful for the duration of the day. Leaving Stratford Marina Pier 005, she set sail on her twenty-third (23rd) voyage. Aboard were 482 passengers. Her itinerary is below for context:
Day 001 | Stops: 1 | May 04, 1967
Stratford Marina | Pier 005 | Departure: 10:30 A.M
Benson Bay, MI | Arrival: 9:45 P.M
Day 002 | Stops: 3 | May 05, 1967
Benson Bay, MI | Departure: 7:30 A.M
Muskegon, WI | Arrival: 10:32 A.M | Departure: 11:05 A.M
Chicago, IL | Arrival: 4:45 P.M | Departure: 5:15 P.M
Penny's Peak, MI | Arrival: 08:45 P.M | Departure: 9:05 P.M
Day 003 | Stops: 1 | May 06, 1967
Penny's Peak, MI | Departure: 9:05 P.M
Stratford, MI | Arrival: 1:45 A.M
! End Of Voyage !
There was no warnings, no signs, nothing out of the ordinary. The first two days went by with no incidents. That all changed later that night. Almost at capacity, she was enroute to Penny's Peak.
From survivor accounts and testimonies, we now know that an incident occurred sometime after 08:00 p.m. As we continue to try and understand what all happened aboard the S.S Allure, families of those who perished are protesting and demanding answers.
I had the privledge of speaking to a relative of a passenger that died. To protect family and relatives' identities, her name will be sensored. My interview transcript is below:
[Me] [Andrea]
What do you think happened aboard as the S.S Allure as she sank?
[XXXXX] [Relative]
Clearly not enough. There's no reason 80+ people should've perished. Everyone should've made it off! That's what I think!
[Me] [Andrea]
You believe more could have been done? Correct me if I'm wrong.
[XXXXX] [Relative]
From what I know thus far, there was all-out panic in the last final minutes. I have many questions. We deserve answers!
[[End of Transcript]]
Want to hear from other survivors? Check back later for updates. Alternatively, you can tune in to our live news at 6:00 P.M CST.
"That's not significant at all," Jeff, another member of the team, said aloud. "What good does interviewing a relative of a perished family member do for us? It doesn't tell us anything!"
"Actually, you're wrong," Dalton said as he got up and walked over to Greg. Standing and looking down past Greg's shoulder, he pointed at multiple details he thought were helpful.
Detail [001]
"Some time after 8:00 P.M is when the incident occurred."
Detail [002]
"The last stop was in Chicago, IL, arriving from Muskegon, WI."
"Yes these details might seem vague, but they're all clues…helpful ones," Dalton told Greg and the others. "We need to make a timeline. We need to get a sense of everything that went on. Before the sinking, during the sinking, and after the sinking. You get the gist."
"Do you always have to be a dick?" Greg asked.
"Do you always have to be a dumbass?" Dalton asked.
Dallanie, Jeff, and John all scoffed and chuckled at Dalton's clapback. Greg rolled his eyes, even sporting a faint smile. After all, Dalton was just having a bit of "fun" when picking on Greg.
Jeff glanced across the table at John. His arms were crossed, his back firmly resting on the back of the chair. By the look he had in his eyes, he was curious to know more about John.
"What was it like?" Jeff asked. John looked across the table at Jeff.
He wondered what Jeff meant by that. How vague it was asked, confused John.
"Which part?" John asked, "falling asleep in my bed in my home, but waking up in a different bed aboard the ship? Being forced back in time randomly to the very day the ship sink? Or was it when I'd saved another man's life?"
Jeff unfolded his arms as he leaned forward, putting his arms down on the table. "All of it," he clarified for John.
"So the entire story then?" John questioned.
Dalton had chuckled and patted Greg on his shoulders. Walking back over to his chair at the head of the table, he sits down. Dallanie was especially quiet as she was still combing through file after file of prior investigations findings.
N.T.S.B
National Transportation Safety Board
S.S Allure
Findings & Conclusion Final Report
"The NTSB investigated the sinking?" Dalton questioned as he scratched his head.
The NTSB is known for investigating aviation crashes, maritime accidents, and anything else that involves human lives – which is pretty much any accident or disaster these days. You get the gist.
Greg picked up the file with the report in question. He held it up, showing the others that there was indeed a report from the NTSB. Dalton leaned forward in his seat, holding his hand out.
"Let me see," Dalton said as Greg tossed the file across the table. Dalton grabbed it and opened it.
Flipping through the eighty [80] pages of the findings report, he stopped. Something made him stop to read. Dallanie was sifting through some dated photos of the ship. One showed the ship still being built, while another showed an up close picture of the entirety of the ship's Portside hull; still in the shipyard nearing her completion.
"Interesting," she said aloud. "They welded the hull. Not riveted."
Dalton glanced up and over at Dallanie. "Times change. Riveting ships was practically unheard of at that time."
"Since when do you know so much about ship construction, D?" Jeff asked Dallanie in a curious toned voice.
"Since last night," she answered bluntly. Greg and Jeff sccofed. John smiled.
"There's no way," Greg protested.
"Monster and Redbull," she told them, "stayed up all night."
John tilted his head slightly at that response. He looked over at her.
"Now that's commitment," he commented, "how long has your investigation been going for?"
"Eight months," Jeff blurted out. "Eight…long….months."
"Investigations don't solve themselves overnight, dumbass," Dallanie told Jeff in a cocky and irritated tone. "Have any of you even done your homework outside of work?"
Silence. No one answered her. Not even John. Even then, that question wasn't directed at him. When no one answered, she sighed and rolled her eyes; clearly feeling irritated.
"Seriously?"
"I have," Dalton answered, "can't say the same for Greg or Jeff."
"Wasn't asking you," she replied as she glanced over to her right at Greg. "You're joking, right?"
Greg and Jeff remained quiet. " The slower we move, the longer this shit'll take. Get your heads out of your ass."
"That's enough, D," Dalton said to Dallanie, "we'll talk about that later. Focus!"
Another picture that Dallanie came across was a picture of the S.S Allure moored at Pier 005 in StratFord. Flipping it over, there was a date stamped in the center of the photo.
"04-05-1967 [April 05, 1967]," she said aloud. "That's when this was taken."
Dalton looked up and over at her. Jeff and Greg were looking at her too.
"A month before the sinking?" Jeff questioned.
"Yup," Dalton chimed in. "May 05, 1967 was its last voyage."
"What I'm still struggling to wrap my head around is why the watertight compartment doors didn't seal off the compartments," Jeff said as he glanced across the table at John.
"You! You were there," Jeff reminded him, "why weren't the compartments sealed? If that had been done, the ship would've never sunk."
John shrugged his shoulders. Yes, he was there. But he wasn't a part of the crew on the Bridge. There's no way he could have known the answer to that.
"You're asking the wrong guy," John told Jeff, "I have no clue."
"What were you doing around that time?" Dalton questioned. John looked over at Dalton.
"Enjoying a meal," John replied, "until we heard a loud bang, followed by a brief power outage."
Dalton frowned and tilted his head. Jeff and Greg did the same. Dallanie continued examining the many pictures. By going through different files, she came across more and more photographs – some were useful, some weren't.
"Hearing a loud bang, followed by a power outage?" Dalton questioned because he needed clarification. "Strange you mention that."
"Why's that?" John asked, "That's where I was–in the Dining Room."
Dalton glanced back down at his papers.
"Don't worry, it's nothing with you and your answer. It's just odd because this isn't mentioned anywhere in the report," he explained to everyone.
"The incident was never documented?" Greg asked. Dalton shook his head and scoffed once more. He let go of the papers; then closing the file.
"Not in their report," Dalton said, "not even in the log."
"Hmm," John mumbled. "You think they'd document an incident like that immediately."
"They should've," Dalton said as he began looking around the table for the Ship's Log. Covered up by a pile of papers, Dalton moved everything covering the log out of the way. After that, he picked it up.
When opened, he shuffled through the pages until he found the page he'd been looking for. Resting the boom flat on the table, everyone stood up to get a glance at the Log.
"Look," he told them as he pointed at what he'd found. "What about this doesn't look right?" He continues by asking.
S.S Allure
Lake Michigan | 05 May, 1967 | 07:55:25 P.M
Captain Hendrickson had returned to the Bridge after enjoying an evening meal. But it wasn't all sunshine and roses (good news).
"Gentlemen," Captain Hendrickson said as he walked out from his private suite located behind the Bridge. "Updates? How's the weather? Speed?"
Chief Communications Officer Burt Allen turned around in his chair, looking up at his Captain. He was holding the radio in his right hand; its cord stretched out from where it was plugged in.
"Cloudy, windy, cool," Burt told Captain Hendrickson.
"Meaning what, Mr. Allen?"
"Showers possible within the hour, winds NNW at 22 m.p.h, temperature: 66.4F, depth: 789FT, draft: 20.2FT, Cruising at 8.5 knots," Burt continued by elaborating what he previously told his captain.
"Otherwise a shitty night," Roan, the Safety Advisor, commented.
"Crappy," Captain Hendrickson corrected, "language Mr. Campbell."
"Apologies, Sir," he replied.
"Quite alright," Captain Hendrickson told him. "Thank you Mr. Allen."
Burt, after relaying those updates, turned back around in his seat, hanging the radio back up on its mount. The Captain turned to look over at Roan. He put his hands behind his back as he waited for Roan to update him.
The phone had begun ringing as it sat on its dock. Roan leaned forward to pick it up and answer it.
"Bridge," he said as he answered. "S.A Campbell speaking; hello."
Captain Hendrickson, the helmsman, and Burt all looked over at him. The call didn't last very long, but when it ended everyone was curious.
"That was the Engine Room," Roan began explaining.
"What'd they say?" Harold, the Captain's first name, asked Roan.
"Compartment Six is flooding. Source and origin point of leakage haven't been located. Rest assured, Engineering is working on that as we speak."
"Leaking?" Captain Hendrickson questioned, wanting to make sure he heard that statement correctly.
"That's right, sir," Roan answered. "Flood sensors were being triggered in compartments Five and Six. I've manually shut them off now that we know of the problem."
"Note the time and enter it into the Log," Captain Hendrickson told Burt.
"On it," Burt replied. He opened the book and grabbed a pen. Suddenly a warning alarm began blaring. Burt turned around to look at the weather radar screen.
There were small patches of green, meaning rain was in the area. There was also a small patch of yellow and red too, meaning a thunderstorm is imminent. But it wasn't that part that caught Burt's attention.
"What the–," Burt mumbled as he adjusted his glasses and looked, "what the hell?"
"What?" Captain Hendrickson asked.
"That!" Burt pointed at the screen. "Right there!"
"Rain?" Roan questioned as he glanced at the screen briefly.
"A ship?" The helmsman suggested.
"No and no," Burt said.
Captain Hendrickson knew right then what that something was. Being the experienced Captain he is, his gut feeling was telling him what it was.
"It can't be!" He mumbled.
The green long patch on the screen was moving at a speed faster than the incoming rain storm. Harold turned to his left, walking over to the Portside wing of the Bridge.
Squinting his eyes, he looked out onto the nearby horizon. For now, the sky was clear. The moon's light was just bright enough to reveal what it was that was coming their way.
To think that something this powerful comes from the water…is every Captain's worst nightmare. Allow me to elaborate:
The year was 1910. The Royal Mail Steamer Lusitania was traveling across the Northern Atlantic Ocean. On what seemed like a calm evening, a 75 FT high rogue wave slammed into the bow of the ship, rolling over the bow. It slammed into the Bridge, smashing all the windows with ultimate ease.
Upon arriving in New York City days later, a crowd of onlookers noticed the damage done to her Bridge. Luckily, in that instance no one was injured. As for the ship herself, she sustained permanent damage to her Bridge.
Her career would continue until she was torpedoed on May 07, 1915 off the Irish Coast.
As for Harold, he grabbed the binoculars off the Portside wing control panel. Adjusting their zoom, he held them up to his eyes.
"Sir?" Helmsman Charlie Watson, asked as he looked over at his Captain.
Harold continued to adjust the zoom of the lenses as he scanned the horizon off their port bow. At first, everything seemed normal…as all things should be, right?
However, upon looking directly ahead in the direction he was facing, the moon's light reflected off of the water's surface. Emerging from the dark abyss, a massive wave was rushing towards them. Otherwise known as…a rogue wave.
"Rogue wave!" Burt called out.
Harold set the binoculars back down on the control panel. Turning around, he began giving out orders.
"Hard to Starboard!" He shouted, "left engine to idle, right engine full ahead!"
"Hard to Starboard," Charlie repeated as he began turning the helm to the left. "Port engine idling, Starboard engine increasing to full power."
Charlie wasn't only in charge of the helm, but the ship's speed, ballast tank intake, bow thrusters. He pulled the left engine throttle back, while pushing the right throttle all the way forward.
Proceeding to turn a key on the panel in front of him, he'd started the starboard thruster. Its power output rapidly increased.
"Full power to the Starboard Bow Thruster!" Harold said; giving another order.
"Bow thruster at max power," Charlie informed.
"Wave closing in fast, sir," Burt called out.
Harold turned around, racing back over to the port bridge wing. Grabbing the binoculars once more, he held them up to his eyes.
In the dining room on A Deck, everything was going about normally…until a woman gasped and screamed. Capturing the attention of everyone in the dining room; the music stopped and the waiters and waitresses froze. She covered her mouth and gasped again, this time pointing at what she had spotted; the rogue wave closing in.
"Back away from the windows!" A waiter shouted as he set his serving tray down on a metal food cart.
"What the hell is that?" A man asked.
"A wave?" John questioned as he got up from his seat and turned around to look out the window.
"Can't be!" An old man, named Russel, argued, "it's another ship!"
"Everyone back away from the windows NOW!" The waiter shouted again.
There was a noticeable list as the ship carried out her slow turn. Wine and any liquid in glasses or bowl, moved around, listing to the same side the ship was listing in. Glasses of wine and such toppled and spilled on the table clothes and floor.
John pushed his chair back in under his table and stepping back, following the instructions of the waiter.
As the ship continued to turn, the approaching rogue wave moved out of sight; meaning no one knew what was going to happen next.
A bell chimed three times over the S.A speakers. A quick message from the Bridge; alerting the passengers to brace for impact with the wave.
"Brace for impact," a man's voice said, Charlie's voice, told everyone. "Brace!"
Then the announcement ended. But it wasn't reassuring at all. With the wave out of view, many wondered if the ship was going to succumb to mother natures surprise forces.
"Everyone remain calm," the waiter told everyone, "you're on one, amongst many, safest ships afloat on the Great Lakes. We are in no danger."
"Bullshit!" a woman shouted, "lying piece of–,"
"That's enough Helen," a man yelled at his wife.
Back on the Bridge, looking out straight ahead, Harold watched as the wave raced towards them. From what Harold could see, the wave grew in height. There was nothing more that could be done. It's now the start of the waiting game. Patience, tense, frightened.
Harold gulped as the ship began leaning to port as it executed the turn. The speed of the turn showed promising results.
As the turn got closer to finishing, Charlie slowly turned the helm in the opposite way. The ship then began correcting itself. That was a sudden, sharp turn.
"Come on, come on girl!" Harold mumbled, referring to the ship as if it were a lady. "You've got this!"
Just as his hopes were going up, the wave plowed towards them. Harold's plan was to ride the wave bow first–like the Lusitania did in 1910. Just as the wave came in, the ship just barely avoided capsizing.
As planned she did just that; riding the wave. As the bow went up, the stern went down. Everyone grabbed onto something, even Harold. The bow cut through the wave like scissors with paper.
Going through the cresting wave, the bow plowed through and went down, crashing down into the water; creating a huge splash. The stern followed thereafter….
BANG!