Wreckers at work on the steamer Matoa abandoned her at four o'clock this morning. The Matoa went on the rocks at Point Aux Barques during Sunday night's storm. Captain W. W. Smith, of the Pittsburg Steamship Co., and a crew of wreckers, proceeded to the Matoa but were forced to give her up and she is pounding to pieces.

By L. L. STEVENSON

Captain A. C. May, of Port Huron, master of the steamer Hawgood, released from Wee's beach last night and now lying near Miller's coal dock is probably the last man who saw the ill-fated Charles S. Price, Regina, and the Isaac M. Scott. Captain May saw these three steamers and the Northern Queen as he was endeavoring to save his own boat.

Captain May saw it was impossible to proceed farther up the lake with the light Hawgood and turned about 45 minutes north of Sand Beach. Just north of there, at 11:50 a.m. Sunday, he sighted one of the Hanna boats.

"She was heading into it and was certainly burying herself," said Captain May. "She was making very bad weather but was flying no distress signals. It was just beginning to blow hard at that time."

The Hawgood proceeded on down the lake, it being Captain May's intention to get into the river.

The Regina, with seas breaking over her but still heading into the storm steadily, was passed at 1 o'clock, 15 miles this side of Sand Beach.

"She was making pretty good weather and was apparently getting along all right," commented the Hawgood's master.

The Northern Queen was the next boat encountered. She like the others, was heading into the storm. By this time, the seas had increased to such an extent that to quote Captain May, "We couldn't see her half the time."

Then came the Scott. She was seen only five or six miles north of Fort Gratiot light, heading into the storm.

"I thought she was upbound and I thought to myself her captain was certainly a fool to leave the river," said Captain May . "I would have given my head to have been inside.

"The wind and the sea kept increasing and the snow got thicker. We couldn't tell how hard it was blowing, but I should judge it was about 75 miles an hour from the north, north-east. After while, it got so thick, we couldn't see the smokestacks.

"If we kept on, we would have struck the beach. I wanted to save the boat. so we dropped the anchors. Although I couldn't see, I knew within a mile or two where we were.

"To show you how hard it was blowing. Three times I crawled over the top of the Texas to get from one side to the other. There was no other way. If you got out where the wind would strike you fair, if you weren't blown overboard, your brains would have been smashed out on a stanchion. My worry was for fear some of the crew would be washed overboard. The seas went over the pilot house.

"The anchors didn't hold and we went on the beach. We went on so hard I almost went through the pilot house. That was about 10 o'clock Sunday night. As soon as we were on, I knew we were all right. As I said before, if I hadn't tried to save the boat, I could have saved myself a lot of hardship."

Captain May stated that the Hawgood's bottom was sprung upward through have (sic) been thrown on a cobble-stone ridge. The water on one side of this was about eight feet deep and on the other side six feet.

"I have been master of boats for 21 years," said the captain, "but this was the worst I have ever encountered. Four years ago, I took the Hawgood across Lake Erie when the car ferry went down with all hands and those other boats were lost. I thought that was pretty bad, but I throw up my hands on this."

Reprinted from the Port Huron Times-Herald,
November 14, 1913, Page 1