"We all felt it. We all saw it. We all heard it," John told everyone.
"A wave just came out of nowhere?" Dalton questioned curiously, "from where? What time? Rogue waves on the Great Lakes?"
John nodded his head, confirming Dalton's curiosity. As he continued questioning John, Greg had found another document. It was another photo copied from a front page newspaper article titled:
A Freak Wave Sank S.S Allure? Rogue Wave Believed To Have Caused Sinking, Two Cargo Ships Still Missing, Charter Boat Sinks After Collision With Breaker Wall In Milwaukee.
!! BREAKING NEWS !!
May 18, 1967
A Freak Wave Sank S.S Allure? Rogue Wave Believed To Have Caused ALLURE To Sink, Two Cargo Ships Still Missing, Charter Boat Sinks After Collision With Breaker Wall In Milwaukee
Written By: Shawn Wilde | Published By: Patrick Sweeney
May 05, 1967 will become a day in infamy. The sinking of Midwestern Cruises, LLC's leisure ship, S.S Allure, sank after a Freak Wave caused troubling damage to the hull. For background, here is a brief history of the shipping company: MidWestern Cruises, LLC.
Founded in 1949 by Joanne Webster, the company excelled to great success within its first two years of operations. Promising a cruise as luxurious as ocean liners sailing the seas, many eager customers flocked to the stands to purchase cruises; many being of elder age. Not much is known around the company's early-on history. Being a privately-held and operated line, their financials were kept "close to the chest".
Their first ship, the S.S Sunscape, set sail on its maiden voyage 2 ½ years after being refitted and repurposed. With that, the MidWestern Cruises Line officially commenced operations on May 2, 1952. From there, it only grew bigger. An ambitious CEO, Joanne Webster's company then had enough capital to expand their fleet; ordering three four new ships. Modeled after a company of old, the W.S.L, she envisioned prosperity. To make money, one must spend money. Understand how that works? Are you still with me?
S.S Dauntless would become the first, S.S Allure would become the second, and the S.S Presence would become the third. A fourth vessel was reportedly designed and delivered to Waylen Brothers Shipbuilding Company, but was inevitably canceled and shelved; only three ships remained in the works.
In the aftermath of the controversial sinking of the S.S Allure weeks earlier, MidWestern Cruises and Waylen Brothers Shipbuilding Company came under heavy scrutiny for ignorance and disregard for safety. Investigators just last week demanded the Waylen Bros Company to surrender ship designs for the Presence, Allure, the Dauntless, and the unnamed fourth vessel.
Joanne Webster has remained out of the public eye for days, only being spotted here and there, errands perhaps? A hired security detail has kept her safe from angry family members, and people who've gone rogue.
Much is yet to be unearthed about the sinking. What's my theory?
Let's backtrack to 1966; April 19, 1966. A date which is also known as the S.S Allure's maiden voyage. Setting sail on a voyage thought to be routine, would conclude in near-catastrophe. But that's an article for another day.
S.S Allure
Lake Michigan | 05 May, 1967 | 08:05:35 P.M
Captain Hendrickson had, after the freak wave incident, departed the Bridge. By the time he'd arrived, he was greeted by ankle-height high water. With him, he had a walkie.
"Captain to Bridge," he said, holding the walkie up to his mouth, "why aren't the doors closed?"
"Bridge to Captain," Roan replied, "the watertight door switch is not responding when engaged
"Bridge," Roan replied. "I'm not sure. From what I'm seeing, the system shows that the doors are closed."
"Compartments five and six are still open," he explained to Roan, "water flooding both compartments. Rising past my ankles."
The chief engineer rushed over to the Captain when he saw him standing in the hallway. Standing just outside the stairwell entrance, the chief engineer came over to him. Dripping wet, he began explaining what had been happening and how.
"Sir," the engineer said as he caught his breath, "we can't keep up with the flooding. Pumps are falling behind."
As they stood there, the water continued to rise at an alarming rate. Harold's black leather shoes were underwater, with his black pants now getting wet.
"You and your team have to keep up with the flooding," Harold said, "we have to stay one step ahead."
The first sign of imminent doom arrived. The lights dimmed, almost plunging the entire corridor into complete darkness. Only a few seconds later, the lights returned to normal brightness.
"I–I don't think we can," the engineer told him, "if the pumps don't catch up, the ship will s–."
"Sink?" Harold finished saying as he shook his head, "I know my ship well, inside and out. She'll get through…we'll be okay. She won't sink."
"I hate to break it to you, Captain, but even the safest of ships, they can still sink."
"Son, I've been a Captain for over thirty years," Harold told him, "once the watertight doors close, the flooding will be contained to compartments five and six."
"Bridge to Captain, over," Roan said over the walkie Harold had on him. Harold held up a finger to quiet the engineer as he answered.
"Go ahead," he replied.
"Watertight doors system rebooting repeatedly, still offline," Roan explained.
"Explain," he told Roan, "that won't do. Unacceptable!"
"I have reasons to believe the system has failed, sir," Roan said.
Harold had grown frustrated to the point of erupting like a volcano after years of dormancy. After finishing what she was saying, Roan continued to broadcast over the walkie. In the background, another man talking was heard.
"Watertight doors failed to close, Roan. Engines are failing. Water 7 FT in six, 3 FT in five, and 1 FT in four. That's three compartments in five minutes."
The Chief Engineer and Harold listened to the walkie as water slowly got higher, creeping its way toward the ceiling; which is about another 6-7FT. From floor (dry) to ceiling, the height measures in at: 8.5FT.
"Intake rate?" Harold asked, speaking into the walkie.
"Standby."
"My calculations show that we're taking on about seven tonnes a minute, sir. With that being said…"
"Meaning?" Harold asked frantically, glancing down at the time on his watch; 8:07:10P.M.
"Meaning with the watertight doors unresponsive, and the amount of water we're taking on, I give her 40-45 minutes at most; maybe an hour."
"This is the Titanic all over again," Harold thought to himself.
"Right then," Harold said as he clipped his walkie onto the belt line of his pants. Looking back over at the Chief Engineer, he said: "Keep the pumps going, contain as much flooding as possible; especially the engine room."
"I'll work diligently, sir," the Engineer responded.
"So be it," he told him, "see to it then."
"Yessir."
Returning to the Bridge, the time was now 08:09:15 P.M; about a mere ten minutes since the rogue wave.
Roan, Burt, and the Helmsman were still at their posts. Engines were now running again at full-power, producing their expected 16,000 horsepower. They all turned around in their seats, noticing their Captain's wet shoes and pants. His face went pale; his heart rate accelerated. He unclipped the walkie from his pants.
"Sir?" Roan asked as he got up. "Are you alright?"
He stood there for a moment, still reeling from the shocking revelations. His ship, the Allure, is sinking beneath him and everyone aboard.
"Remind me again: how much time do we have?" Harold asked in a mumbled-toned voice.
"Forty-five to an hour," Roan answered hesitantly.
"And…how far from land?"
As the engines continued running, the ship continued to sink. Up to this point, there hasn't been any noticeable change to the ship's buoyancy, but she continued to take on water. That being said, it won't be long until things begin to shift and passengers start finding out what's happening. But their blindness to the pending danger would continue for now.
"Twenty-six miles, sir," the Helmsman answered.
"We won't make it," Roan added. "Too far out."
Harold came to his senses, after disbelieving his ship would sink.
"Right," he blurted out, "all-stop Mr. Jacobson (Helmsman)."
"Yessir."
"Mr. Allen, send out a distress call. Inform whomever that we are requesting immediate assistance. Going down by the stern, sinking fast."
"On it."
"Roan, we must make an announcement to passengers and crew. Inform crew members of our situation, but don't stir-up panic."
Roan sat down and turned her chair around, now facing forward; her back facing Harold. She reached forward to pick up the telephone. The very one Harold would use to make his regretful announcement.
She turned around again, pressing a button as she handed the phone off to him. He grabbed it and held it up to his ear. The time is now 08:09:34 P.M.
"Pardon the interruption ladies and gentlemen," he began to speak into the phone microphone. "I'm asking that everyone make due to their muster stations. This is no drill."
Present Day
"He must've known the ship would sink, following the rogue wave," Dalton thought aloud.
"We still don't know the cause," Dallanie mentioned and reminded Greg, Dalton and Jeff.
"Do you remember seeing which direction this wave came from?" Greg asked. John shook his head and gave a simple answer.
"No. It all happened so fast. If I did, I'd tell you."
"So that's a no then?" Dalton asked.
"Yes."
"Fuck!" Dalton shouted.
"Which direction did the ship turn in again, John?" Dallanie asked.
"Left," John answered.
"Ignore Dalton. Get back to the story, please," Greg told John.
"I will," John responded, "thank you for asking nicely."
"The wave came from the North," Dallanie interrupted.
"Noted," Greg said as he looked back over at John with a faint smile. "Please, my friend, continue."
"After the Captain made that announcement, great concern flooded through the dining room like a wildfire. By the time everyone realized what was happening, the ship continued to sink. No one, myself included, knew that."
May 05, 1967
8:15 P.M | S.S Allure
The ship was adrift, drifting north with the undertow current. Fifteen minutes had passed, with evacuation efforts stagnating. Crewmembers were escorting people in the dining room out.
It wasn't until 8:19 P.M came around that the crew began distributing the orange-colored life jackets. If the person(s) wearing them were to end up in the water, it would inflate; thus keeping them afloat.
John, around many others, were still exiting the dining room. Being directed by Crewmembers who worked in the dining room, all were kindly asked to report to their muster stations. This was done with little to no panic; but we were still spooked from the rogue wave incident.
"You heard the Captain ladies and gentlemen," the waiter said with a loud voice, "come, come. Through the doors, down the hallway to your left, and up two flights of stairs."
John was following behind Russel and Dorothy. As they made their way out into the hallway.
As Russ and Dorothy were walking up the carpeted stairs, they were slow. John, with one hand on the rail. Looking over the railing and down at the lower decks, he saw something not supposed to be inside a ship: water. Tons of it. More than a glass full. He leaned back to not spread curiosity. That was the last thing he wanted to witness; panic.
"Move, you heard them," a man pushed John from behind him. He stumbled up a few steps before regaining his stability. "Move your ass."
The lights dimmed for the first time, a sign of trouble and danger. Everyone stopped in their tracks, freezing like stiff mannequins in a clothing store.
"Holy fuck," a woman screamed.
One light, mounted on a wall in the staircase, burst as the lights returned to their normal brightness.
POP!
"Keep moving ladies and gentlemen," the waiter instructed again.
The dining room was now vacant. After the last of the passengers exited, the doors were pulled shut and then locked by a set of keys. The keychain rattled.
Instead of following the others, the crewmen went the opposite way. Even though they've finished this first task, they'll have plenty more to do in the coming minutes.
John had walked out to the Boat Deck; Starboard side. Joining a growing crowd of other passengers who were already on-deck.
Standing stiff in his tracks, John glanced around at the concerning crowd of scared people. The eight (008) lifeboats that were equipped could accommodate seventy-five (100) occupants. Every muster station was still in preparation for boarding. Crewmembers were working fast. The forward-most two boats had already been swung out, probably before anyone started gathering.
The danger everyone was in was only now being realized. One giveaway was a noticeable slope. The bow appeared slightly higher, and the stern appeared slightly lower.
"Here's your life jacket, sir," a crewman said as he gave one to John. "Put it on and secure it with the straps."
"Thank you," John said as he put the life jacket over his head, resting it over his shoulders. He then tied the straps securely around his torso area.
Walking through and past others, he approached the railing, leaning out over the side of the ship.
The water was eerily lit from the lights in the ship; revealing the color of the water: a murky dark green. Of the three rows of windows, two rows were already submerged underwater. The water he'd seen earlier matched the color of the outside water. Otherwise, it was a dead giveaway that the ship was sinking. But why? How? Why so fast? Time: 8:23 P.M