by Liz Mechem
A SINISTER FLAW
The steamship Eastland was built in 1903 to ferry tourists around the Great Lakes. Touted as the “Speed Queen of the Great Lakes,” she nevertheless exhibited serious design flaws. From her earliest voyages, the Eastland had a propensity to list, or tilt to one side. The condition could generally be corrected by flooding the ballast tanks in the bilge of the ship, though listing was a particularly perilous flaw for a touring ship that frequently saw legions of passengers congregating on the upper decks, unpredictably shifting the ship’s weight.
A rowboat filled with survivors of the Eastland disaster makes its way to safety. Other survivors are seen standing on the foundered boat in the background.
The sinking of the Titanic in 1912 had inspired the passage of the Seaman’s Act in 1915, which stipulated the addition of lifeboats to all vessels. The addition of lifeboats and deck strengthening reinforcement to the Eastland added weight on top—these “improvements” raised an already dangerously high center of gravity even higher.
The Eastland lies on her side, with her top deck facing the photographer. Behind, onlookers watch resuce efforts underway from the safety of the adjacent pier.
FROM PICNIC TO PANIC
As passengers boarded that morning, the engineers had even more trouble than usual keeping the ship balanced. Her ballast tanks were at first ineffective at countering her list, so much so that the chief engineer sent someone topside to check if perhaps the ship had hung up on the pier. The ship eventually righted herself, and preparations to cast off continued. As her engines began to slowly push the Eastland’s stern away from the pier, the portside list returned, and it quickly worsened. Passengers panicked as furniture, dishes, cutlery, and bottles crashed over to the port side. As water poured in through open portside gangways, terrified people leapt off the starboard side deck. The weight shift increased, propelling the ship ever farther off her lines until, with a crack, the shore lines parted, and the ship rolled clean over to her side.
The rolling ship threw many passengers clear; others managed to escape to the adjacent pier, a mere 20 feet (6 m) from the Eastland, or to rescue ships that quickly appeared on the scene. One nearby ship, the Kenosha, came alongside the Eastland’s hull, which enabled many people left stranded on the capsized vessel to leap to safety. But too many didn’t make it. On that black day, one originally meant for fun and laughter, 841 passengers and 4 crew members were killed in the shallow waters alongside a pier in downtown Chicago.
Rescuers wrap a man’s jacket around a young survivor. The tragedy left the children of 19 families orphans, and it entirely wiped out 22 families.
WORKING-CLASS HEROES
STEVEDORES AND OTHER WORKERS on the docks that cool July Saturday watched in horror as the Eastland rolled over. Several of them immediately responded with torches in hand to the cries and hammering coming from the overturned hull and began cutting their way through the solid steel. Though hindered by the ship’s crew, who objected to the destruction of their hull, the shore party nonetheless rescued more than 40 passengers.
Rescuers carry an Eastland victim away from the disaster.
Cranes on a barge right the toppled ship. After the disaster, the Eastland lived a second life as the USS Willmette, an Illinois Naval Reserve gunboat.
SS Princess Sophia
ALASKA’S GREATEST TRAGEDY
History can be an unreliable teacher. Captain Leonard Locke commanded the SS Princess Sophia for her last journey in 1918. A Canadian Pacific Railroad coastal ferry, the Princess Sophia foundered on a reef in a narrow channel during an intense snowstorm, 30 miles (48 km) north of Juneau, Alaska. Two ships had met a similar fate within recent memory. The captain of one had made the fatal decision to evacuate in rough conditions, with the loss of all lifeboats. The other captain had safely evacuated all passengers. With these two shipwrecks in mind, Captain Locke erred on the side of caution and kept his passengers onboard. Forty hours after foundering, and with a flotilla of rescue ships nearby, the Princess Sophia was swept away in raging waves and a deadly boiler explosion. All 343 aboard were lost in Alaska’s worst maritime disaster.
The Princess Sophia lay in sight of land, but freezing waters, rough waves, and rocks surrounding the reef prevented the launch of lifeboats and thwarted rescue.
Launched in 1911, the Princess Sophia boasted double-hulled steel construction. She was more than fit for her customary route through the Inland Passage, a protected waterway through the narrow channels and fjords of coastal British Columbia and Alaska. On her final journey, the Princess Sophia carried many families returning from the Yukon Territory. After the wreck, recovery workers told of the heartbreaking sight of children’s toys floating in the icy water.
A FATAL GAMBLE
The Princess Sophia departed Skagway, Alaska, at 10:00 PM on October 23. A blinding snowstorm quickly beset her as she entered Lynn Canal. The ship drifted slightly off course in the dangerous channel—a mistake that cost her dearly. Unable to right her course, at 2:00 AM on October 24, the Princess Sophia struck Vanderbilt Reef—a flat, rocky surface in the middle of the channel. A radio distress call reached Juneau, and a flotilla of rescue ships made for the Princess Sophia. A large American lighthouse ship, the USLHS Cedar, only reached the site at 10:00 PM, some 20 hours after the Princess Sophia foundered. No ship could approach the reef itself, or the foundering Princess Sophia, in the storm-tossed waters.
The captains of the Cedar and the Princess Sophia maintained near-steady radio contact. What to do? A rescue attempt in the rough water, with limited visibility, could doom the rescue ships. Launching lifeboats could doom the Princess Sophia’s passengers. Captain Locke decided to wait for clearer weather, calmer seas, and a favorable tide—the Princess Sophia wasn’t moving off the reef, nor taking on water. But the storm worsened instead of abating. The afternoon of the third day—October 25—the radio operator sent out a call: “Ship foundering on reef. Come at once!” Thirty minutes later, at 5:20, came the final signal from the Princess Sophia: “For God’s sake, hurry—the water is in my room!” Historians believe the boiler exploded shortly after this, dashing apart the ship. Nearly all the watches found on the dead had stopped at 5:50 PM.
LETTERS FROM THE LOST
Trapped in a foundering ship for 40 hours, the Princess Sophia’s passengers knew that they might not survive the ordeal. Some wrote letters, later found on their recovered bodies, to loved ones. One letter in particular, from Englishman John R. Mastell and addressed to his fiancée, was widely reprinted in newspapers. It began, “My own dear sweetheart, I am writing this my dear girl while the boat is in grave danger.” The letter includes a hastily jotted will.
The Princess May, grounded on Sentinenal Island (near Vanderbilt Reef) in 1910, had safely evacuated all of her passengers. One year later, the Princess May participated in the ill-fated rescue attempt of the Princess Sophia.
MS Estonia
DEATH IN THE BALTIC
Built in Germany in 1980, the MS Estonia was more than 500 feet (155 m) of modern steel cruise ferry, with every safety appliance and innovation the late twentieth century had to offer. The Estonia plied ferry routes under various names and owners in Scandinavia and Europe throughout the 1980s and had gained a reputation as a good ship to handle in rough weather. Her sudden and violent sinking in 1994, in an unremarkable storm in the Baltic Sea, shocked the world, especially because it resulted in the loss of 852 lives.
The MS Estonia regularly made the run between Tallinn, Estonia, and Stockholm, Sweden. On September 27, 1994, after loading her passengers and cargo, the Estonia’s crew locked and sealed her double-bow door for an on-time departure of 7:00 PM. All seemed normal onboard as she headed into the Baltic Sea, into the typical autumn gales. Seas were 10 to 13 feet (3–4 m), with winds of Gale Force 7–8 on the Beaufort scale. Rough conditions, but nothing the Estonia hadn’t weathered many times before.
A model of the doomed ferry in a Tallinn, Estonia, museum
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nbsp; CAPSIZED!
At around 1:00 AM the next morning, crew members heard a loud bang, followed by the sound of grinding metal. The crew immediately inspected the bow loading doors—particularly the “visor” outer door that met the waves head on—but could find nothing amiss. Yet, not 15 minutes later, a wave tore the visor off completely, allowing the sea to reach the inner ramp that protected the car deck. The cascade of events quickly went from bad to worse, as water rushed into the open car deck, with a force compounded by Estonia’s fast passage into oncoming seas. Within minutes, the ship became increasingly unstable from the water sloshing around the open car deck. Free surface effect, a phenomenon that can quickly make it impossible for a ship to right itself, took over. The modern steel ship rolled over and sank to the bottom of the Baltic Sea.
Many of those who made it to the deck survived, but some 750 people trapped inside perished. Lifeboats and rafts were launched, and the luckier passengers clambered aboard. The shipping lanes of the Baltic are crowded, and rescue arrived fairly quickly to the stricken Estonia. An investigative commission following the disaster blamed passive and ineffective crew members, interior announcements in the Estonian language only, and other communication problems for the high death toll. The commission also called for new standards of training and ferry regulation, in hopes of preventing a repeat of the terrible events of September 28, 1994, in the Baltic Sea.
The MS Estonia boasted all the usual precautions, including life preservers, but to shockingly little avail.
CONSPIRACY ON THE SEA?
THE SHOCKING LOSS OF A MODERN, well-maintained steel passenger ferry in normally heavy seas might be expected to encourage speculation about causes. In the case of the Estonia, a number of factors emerged after the sinking that caused observers to question the official account of events. Rumors of an explosion and a corresponding hole in the hull took on additional credence when it was revealed that the Estonia had twice borne classified military shipments on previous runs. Charges surfaced that the Russian Secret Service was involved. The Swedish and Estonian governments accused each other of covering up secrets, and each launched private investigations. The Swedish government’s failed attempt to entomb the wreck in concrete—an act that would have prevented further investigation—lent additional fuel to the conspiracists’ fire.
A monument to the MS Estonia’s victims in Stockholm
Tallinn erected its own tribute to the lost ferry crew and passengers, called the Katkenud liin (Broken Line), right.
MV Le Joola
A MODERN AFRICAN TRAGEDY
The Le Joola, upside down, slowly succumbs to the waves. A French navy raft floats beside the ferry, but rescue efforts proved largely ineffective.
MV Le Joola, a modern German-built ferry, plied the busy African West Coast trade routes. She capsized in a sudden squall off Gambia on September 22, 2002. There were 64 survivors, but as many as 1,863 souls perished. The loss of Le Joola is considered one of the worst nonmilitary maritime disasters, second only to the Doña Paz.
The MV Le Joola was a 261-foot (79.5 m) long multi-ferry, purpose-built for the unique demands of coastal Africa. Though designed for about 536 passengers, nearly three times that many were on board for Le Joola’s final journey. To make matters worse, many passengers were merchants bearing huge amounts of luggage, heading for the markets of Dakar. Reports that Le Joola was listing upon departure that final night indicate possible mishandling of cargo.
BROADSIDE SQUALL
Weather was good as Le Joola boarded her final passengers and freight at Ziguinchor, Senegal, but the ferry was dangerously overloaded, overbooked, and poorly maintained. After reporting via radio that all was well at the beginning of her voyage, she ran into a squall one hour into the journey. Some 17 miles (27 km) off Gambia, a gale erupted, striking Le Joola broadside. Conditions belowdecks were stiflingly hot, so the deck was crowded with passengers, who rushed to the lee side to escape the gale’s violent onslaught. That shift of weight, combined with the intense cross force of wind and water, caused the huge ship to suddenly capsize. Many passengers on deck were thrown into the water, but the speed of the roll was such that anyone inside the ship was doomed. The upside-down ship remained afloat for 15 hours, during which time survivors could hear banging and yelling from inside the ship, yet were helpless to effect a rescue. Around 3:00 PM the following day, the MV Le Joola slipped beneath the waves.
The squall that beset Le Joola was indeed severe, yet there seems little doubt that the overcrowding, poor maintenance, and inept cargo loading contributed to the disaster. The actual number of dead will never be known, but most experts believe the death toll from Le Joola is higher than that of the Titanic. Only about 1,000 people had tickets for Le Joola, but in that region of Africa passengers without tickets or money to pay are often allowed to board anyway, resulting in severe overcrowding. National politics and bureaucracy also worsened the calamity, because it took nearly 12 hours for any rescue, other than local fishermen on pirogues, to arrive.
The ferry Aline Sitoé Diatta now runs the Dakar–Ziguinchor route. Despite Le Joola, many West African ferries still sail while dangerously overcrowded.
The loss of the MV Le Joola stunned the region and the world. Inquests into the tragedy resulted in a few politicians losing their jobs but failed to turn up conclusive blame for the tragedy. Unfortunately, not much has changed, and vessels in the area remain dangerously overcrowded even now.
WHAT’S IN A NAME?
LE JOOLA WAS NAMED in honor of the Djula people of South Senegal. These tribesmen were early traders on the routes between Western Africa and the Sahara region. Sadly, many Djula probably perished that terrible night off Gambia.
A monument in Ziguinchor remembers the victims of the MV Le Joola tragedy.
The Prestige
EUROPE’S DEADLIEST OIL SPILL
T he Prestige oil spill illustrates the disastrous consequences of negligence and self-interest. The Greek-owned oil tanker Prestige was aging and structurally deficient when she departed St. Petersburg, Russia, in November 2002. The single-hulled, 26-year-old ship was loaded with 77,000 tons (66,850 metric tons) of crude oil. As she made her way down the west coast of Europe, she was caught in a fierce storm on November 13.
When the crew discovered that one of the ballast tanks was taking on water, they requested leave to enter a port on Spain’s northwest coast. Spanish authorities refused, fearing that the tanker would begin to leak oil onto their coastline. France and Portugal followed suit, each country hoping to avert a disaster on its own shores. With no safe port, the Prestige was forced to ride out the storm, an attempt that would lead to the worst oil spill to ever strike the shores of Europe.
A video captures the Prestige as she breaks in two some 150 miles (250 km) off Spain’s coast in the Atlantic Ocean.
Oil from the Prestige coated rocks black for miles of shoreline.
BLACK TIDE
Soon after the Prestige’s distress call, the dreaded spill began. While the Prestige endured a pounding in the waves off Spain’s Galician coast, a 40-foot (12 m) gash opened in the hull. Oil began to leak from the rapidly deteriorating tanker, and the Spanish government dispatched ships to tow her into deeper water. There, authorities claimed, the colder water would isolate the inevitable oil spill. While being towed—six days after her initial storm damage—the Prestige split in two and sank about 150 miles (250 km) from the coast, releasing thousands of tons of her toxic cargo. Her crew had earlier been evacuated, and authorities now took her captain into custody as the catastrophic effects of the spill became clear.
NUNCA MAIS
CLEANUP OF THE PRESTIGE OIL SPILL began immediately, both on land and at sea. Workers in white coveralls smeared with the black oil soon dotted the Galician coastline as they attempted to remove the oil. Many were volunteers, part of a massive grassroots movement known as Nunca Mais, or “Never Again,” in the Galician dialect.
At sea, dredging and salvage ships arrived f
rom far and wide. A Dutch dredger was able to collect 1,500 tons (1,360 metric tons) of oil in one salvage operation. Other ships erected long barriers to try to contain the oil and prevent it from reaching shore. Meanwhile, investigation into the disaster revealed that the Prestige had failed inspections in several ports, and that its former captain had been forced to resign when he protested the shoddy state of the tanker.
Volunteers donned white Tyvek overalls to clean the beach at Nemiña, Spain.
The rocky coastline of Galicia, Spain, is home to numerous species of seabirds, and it is an important fishery center. As the oil spill reached the coast, residents described the horrific sight of the so-called black tide—rocks and water coated with a slick black sheen, millions of fish and birds washed up dead, and a stench compared to a gasoline station. A six-month ban on fishing cost the local industry dearly, but the devastation is still not contained, even today. An estimated 80 percent of the oil in the tanker was spilled, or close to 63,000 tons (57,150 metric tons). Environmentalists predict that the effects of the spill on marine life will continue for about 10 years. Furthermore, the hull of the Prestige still lies below the sea. Undersea robotic pods sealed some of its seams, but thousands of tons of oil still remain in the submerged tanker, a second disaster waiting to happen.
The damage done to wildlife by oil spills is tremendous. Rescuing affected birds is painstaking for humans and traumatic for the animals, many of which—even if they survive—have no safe habitat to return to.
ECOSYSTEM WRECKS
Accidents involving oil tankers occur with about the same regularity as other kinds of shipping accidents, which run the gamut from unfortunate to tragic. The results of tanker mishaps, though, range from devastating to catastrophic. For shipping and oil companies, such losses can total billions of dollars, especially when lawsuits and cleanup costs are factored in.
