ALBANY

By:  Capt. Ron Burkhard

A double tragedy occurred within sight of the Pt. Aux Barques  Lighthouse on November 7, 1893.  “24 Drowned” and “Frightful” were the headlines in the Bay City Times and the Huron Times (Harbor Beach Times), respectfully, on November 10, 1893.  What is known is that two fine steamers (Philadelphia and Albany) went to the bottom after colliding and that 23 men survived.  What will forever remain a mystery is how 24 men and 2 dogs lost their lives after safely abandoning ship.  Last month we visited the wreck of the Philadelphia.  We will now take a look at the Albany.

The Albany was an iron-hulled steamer built in 1884 by the Detroit Dry Dock Company in Wyandotte, Mi.  She was 267 feet long, 38.5 feet wide, had a gross tonnage of 1917, and was U.S. Official #106306.  Appearance wise the Albany was a stately looking vessel. She was only nine years old, compared to the 25-year old Philadelphia.  Above her iron hull was a fully enclosed wooden deck, on top of which sat the superstructure.  This consisted of forward cabins with a small pilothouse on top.  There was an open area amidships where the lifeboat rested, after which the aft cabins extended to the stern. Surrounding the ship on the upper deck was a decorative railing.  Standing tall above the aft cabins were two smokestacks for the double boilers.  Two air cowls were just ahead of the stacks.  Three tall stepped masts that were gaff-rigged add to her fine look.  These would seem out of place on a steamer, but where not uncommon during her time.  The owners were not convinced that steam power was totally reliable and wanted backup sail power in case of an emergency.  They may have also used the sails when the wind was right to give the ship extra speed.

The picture I have of the Albany shows her all decked out with pennants flying from the steering pole, foremast, and mainmast.  An American flag with 44 stars flies from the mizzenmast. 

Even though she was owned by the Western Transit Co. of Buffalo, NY, the name on her bow reads “New York Central & Hudson River R.R. Line”.  Her name,“Albany”, appears on both sides of the railing above the pilothouse.

To dive the Albany, we will leave from Grindstone Harbor after gassing up our boat and buying munchies at Kerm Filion’s Harbor Marina.  It is a 10.17-mile ride on a 78-degree heading.  After the Philly struck the Albany and its crew boarded the Philly, the Albany was taken under-tow.  The Philly tried to get both vessels to Harbor Beach, but had to cut the Albany loose when she began sinking.  Within a half-hour, the Philly herself sank.  The vessels are now resting on the bottom, separated by a distance of only 2.64 miles.  On the compass rose, the Albany is NNE of the Philly.

The Albany rests in 140 feet of water with only the stern section upright and mostly intact.  For years, it was a hard wreck to find because incorrect numbers were published for its location. Five years ago, Judy and I made our first dive on the Albany.  We grappled in and came down somewhere in the center section of the wreck and had about five foot of visibility.  I could only make out some iron ribs and torn up hull.  We made a short dive of it and were in no hurry to dive it again.

 This past summer the Thumb Area Great Lakes State Bottomland Preserve put mooring lines on both the bow and stern of this wreck.  During August and September I made four dives on this wreck, three on the stern and one on the bow.  The first time I dove the stern alone and had an incredible dive.  Visibility was 30 feet and I could see big areas of the wreck and the bottom surrounding it.  The mooring line was chained to the top of the steam engine and as I came down it, I could see all of the engine and the stern deck.   First, I explored around the huge engine.  There were big round valve handles, long control levers, flywheels and crankshafts.  In addition, something I had never seen before on an engine—yellow paint!  A 12-inch diameter or bigger pipe  extended from the top of the engine thru the floor toward the boilers.  It and many of the steel portions of the engine had been painted yellow.  The engine also had other unique features.  It looked like wooden slates protected most of the hot surfaces and there was a 36-inch square thing that looked like a 9-pane window, but made out of steel.

As I circled the engine, I noticed that the floor surrounding it was open grating with some of it missing.  Looking through the opening, I could see a lower deck made of planking with wide spacing.  Staying on deck, I move along the starboard side toward the stern.   I see steel pockets the attached the wooden superstructure to the steel hull.  I pass wooden debris, pipes, and spot two bright white objects.  They are a dinner plate and serving dish.  I check and find that they both say “Stoneware China” on the back and are made by the same company in England.  Past that are the starboard stern mooring bits.  As I reach the end of the deck, I see that the rudderpost had been pushed up through the deck.  Also, among the smashed timbers, the top of a capstan sticks out.

Continuing around the port side deck toward the engine, I come to a wall that has fallen onto the deck.  I pass the port bitts and see part of the rear port gangway still standing.  Some of the latch mechanism is still there, along with some pulleys.  Coming back to the engine, I come upon what looks like a steam radiator.  I notice a raised sill around the engine, clad in tin, that may have been a wall footing.

Going forward of the engine, I notice the decks have collapsed at the engine room bulkhead.  They are pan caked together with one end higher than the other.  Through a hole in the bulkhead, I peer into the lower engine room.  It is so clear I can see rows of neatly ordered steel ribs and many heavily riveted hull sections.  This engine room looks huge compared to the Philly.  There appear to be three deck levels.  You could easily get lost in there if you kick up silt.  I remain outside looking in with my light and taking pictures. Some areas are clear and others are piled with rubble.  Many shipwrecks have the appearance of being bombed.  They have sections that are twisted piles of debris and other sections that are relatively intact.  The Albany is one of these. 

As I turn from the bulkhead, I am surrounded by wreckage.  Emerging out of the gloom, I recognize a huge boiler.  It is the port side one.  Swimming toward it, I see the starboard one also.  This one lies on it side with a big expansion tank resting on it.  All this heavy metal is lying on the starboard hull, which is pressed into the bottom.  Hanging over this is a part of the broken off mizzenmast.  It has mast bands or shroud hoops around it and supports attached to it for bracing an upper deck.  On the bottom below it I see not one—but four steel-wheeled hand carts.  Lying next to one is a 2-foot long decaying fish.  I check its’ mouth for a salmon lure, but its empty.  No free fishing tackle today.  It is not unusual to find downrigger cannonballs and dodgers on a wreck.

I am in a hurry now, so I kick to the stern to see the rudder.  I remember it’s top was pushed up thru the deck.  It sets at an angle with its lower part pushed away from the hull and buried in the lake bottom.  Where the propeller should be located, I see two what look like prop blades sticking out of the clay bottom.  I cannot be sure about that but I keep moving around the stern and down the port side along the bottom.  More wreckage and as I rise up along the heavily rusted hull I pass a closed porthole.  Back on deck, I race for the mooring line to start my ascent and long decompression.  Although I am not cold, I am glad it is Fall and I did not feel a noticeable thermocline in 140 feet of water.  I hate spending 30 minutes in cold water hanging on the rope for decompression.  Back on the boat with my wife, Judy, I plan the next dive, which will be on the bow of the Albany.

Of the four dives I made on the Albany this past fall, the second  dive was made on the bow section. Around 10 am on August 22, Dale Purchase, Don Cunningham, and I made a 25-mile run from Grindstone Harbor on our boat the Rapture. We were headed 5 miles south of Harbor Beach to dive the Goliath.  It was a sunny day, which should mean good light at depth.  However, there was a 3-foot chop on the water, which resulted in a bouncy ride.  The visibility on the Goliath, in 100 feet of water, was excellent. By the time we each made our dive and motored back to the bow of the Albany, conditions had not improved and there was a strong surface current running.  I entered the water around 6 pm and even though it was getting late, I expected good light and visibility. I was disappointed.  It was darker than expected and the water was dirtier.  However, I had my dive light and camera strobes and I set out to explore the forward section of the Albany.

To try to give everyone a feel for what this wreck looks like on the lake bottom, lets examine the picture of the Albany at the top of this article.  Find the mast by the ships’ smokestacks with the American flag flying (mizzen mast).  From this point rearward, the ship sets upright on the bottom minus the cabins. Forward of this mast (almost to the bow) is a  sometimes flattened, twisted, jumbled upheaval of wreckage. Now find the part of the bow rail where it says “New York Central & Hudson River R.R. Lines”.  The bow section forward of the word “New” is ripped off and lying on its starboard (right) side.  Some of the wooden side of the ship is still attached to the iron hull and this forms the highest part of the shipwrecked bow.  This is where the mooring line is attached and where I will start my exploration.

Before starting, I turn on my dive light and camera strobes. I slowly look around to orientate myself while trying to memorize my starting point.  It is always nice to end a dive at the same place you started—nobody likes getting lost at 140 feet deep.  Letting myself slowy sink  to the bottom, I am overwhelmed by the tangle of wreckage and debris.  It is disorienting to see the horizontal decking turned into a vertical wall.  Reaching out to stabilize my self,  I stop at a huge rusting windlass.  Big links of anchor chain are wrapped around its drum after snaking out of the chain pipes and disappearing thru some chocks. Above my head, sticking out like huge horns, are the port bow mooring bits.  Resting against the forward one is a horseshoe.  These were not uncommon on sailing and steam vessels, as the sailors believed they were a good luck talisman.  I will see several more on this wreck and note that they did not help this ship.

Looking to my left, I see a 3 x 3 foot opening in the deck.  Shining my light into the opening reveals a ladder going down.  It has 4-inch square wood uprights and steel rungs.  Looking further down, I see piles of anchor chain and other debris. This must be the chain locker.   Going forward, back past the windlass, I stop at the pawl post.  It is a big square wooden post with two patches of white paint on it.  A closer look reveals that some kind of rectangular plates where fastened there and later removed.  They had been there long enough to protect the paint underneath them.

As I come to the point of the bow, I see the top of a large steel-stocked anchor.  Looking down, I follow the anchor shank to where the anchor flukes are resting on the lake bottom. With the bow section lying on its side and the curve of the forward section, the peak of the bow is about 8-10 feet of the bottom.  This anchor resembles the Iron Chiefs’ anchor that is on display at the Grice Museum in Harbor Beach, although it has a different attachment method for the fluke arm.  Scattered around the flukes are pieces of coal, a broken brick, and a rope cleat with the spikes still in it that was ripped from the ship.  The lake bottom is hard clay with some stones and covered with a thin layer of silt.

Turning away from the anchor, I see a large geared steel shaft sticking 4-5 feet up from the lake bottom.  On either side of it are what appear to be control levers.  Large sections of wooden wreckage lay on the bottom along with big sheets of metal ripped like paper into irregular shapes resting in awkward positions.  A 24-inch diameter pulley lies on a beam.  It has an 8-inch wide flat face for belt drive and a 2-foot long burbot resting in the pulley spokes. Further along, I see part of the forward mast angling downward.  Its crows nest is resting on the lake bottom.  Also, bolted to some wooden side posts are two strong curved steel pieces.  They look like they could hold a barrel, but it’s hard to tell up from down in this wreckage.   Swimming along, a pump comes into view.  Coming upon big twisted sheets of iron, I rise up and past a long 12-inch diameter steel pipe with a jagged end.  Swimming back over the anchor top, I see a thick curved metal pole extending out from the bow and pointing into the gloom.  This I believe was used to raise the anchors unto and off their resting place on deck.  It is visible in the Albany photo.  I follow the anchor chain around the wooden deck side passing over three strakes.  These wooden bump rails ran horizontally down the side of the ship.  If you examine the photo carefully, you will see them.  Do not confuse them with the poles hanging down along the ships’ sides.  These were also to protect against hull chafing.  Finally, the anchor chain  meets steel hull and disappears in the hawespipe.  I know if I continue up from here  I will find the mooring line.  My time is up and I know I must end the dive, so I start for the line.

Even though the Albany is broken up and was only 31 feet longer and 4 feet wider that the Philly, it gives me an impression of a much bigger ship.  As I think about this while hanging on the mooring line during decompression, I start to plan a dive on another ship that lies less that a mile away from the Albany.  In fact, if you traveled in a straight line back to the Philadelphia you would pass over this wreck.  It started life as a schooner and was converted to a steamer. It was 23 years old when tragedy struck.  Next time we will visit the Iron Chief.