LAKE MICHIGAN CRUISE OF TRUANT
by
Leonard P. Matson
All planning, dreams and preparations ended on that Saturday morning in July. “Truant,” a fifty-foot yawl, had been motored from the Columbia Yacht Club basin and moored on the wharf in preparation for loading. The skipper and crew had had many meetings, when all details of responsibilities of each crew member -- navigator, purser, cook and skipper were arranged. Each was to have an assistant except the skipper. This left a bunk for each crewman except the helmsman -- the skipper occupied the stateroom.
This is a good time to explore the ship and get acquainted with the crew. It may be easier to understand their activities.
The navigators’ “desk” is composed of a piece of plywood, hinged on the bulkhead beneath the bookcases, and swinging upward in a vertical position against the bookcase. The portholes and electric lights above provide illumination.
The pursers’ ships’ stores are stowed in drawers beneath the bunks. This includes canned goods and other provisions. The purser also has space aft and either side of the companionway for tools and other equipment.
Continuing from aft on either side are the bunks, with a large table with folding leaves, under a ventilating skylight. Then forward on the port side is the “head.” Across on the starboard side is the galley. Here the cook reigns supreme with his cooking utensils, ice box, butane stove and oven, and stainless steel sink with pump.
The fore-peak includes racks for eight bags of sails on the starboard side. The mooring lines, extra halyards, sheets, and miscellaneous surplus lines are on the port side. The foredeck hatch is between, with the chain locker forward.
“Truant,” with cargo and crew aboard, now goes to the Chicago Yacht Club to fill starboard and port thirty-gallon gas tanks. Also, the thirty-gallon freshwater tank over the galley is supplied.
Now the skipper speaks:
“Let go all sheets -- let go port back-stay. Hoist the jib -- hoist the main. Make fast the starboard running back-stay. Hoist the mizzen. Cast off bow line -- cast off stern line -- trim all sheets.”
This is the signal that we are sailing. All our dreams and anticipations are now being realized.
We can look over the shoulder of Boisterous Bob and his assistant navigator, Indian John, and find that the dead-reckoning chart shows ETD at 2 p.m., Saturday, at a 105-degree course. This means that we are sailing for Michigan City, Indiana, logging approximately six miles per hour. This should make our ETA at about 9:55 p.m.
MICHIGAN CITY, INDIANA…..
We spent the night at Michigan City, leaving Sunday at 9 a.m. Sea Dog Stew, the cook, was laboring in the galley with Jovial Jack, the second cook, who was providing volumes of pleasant odors of appetizing bacon. While the entire crew is anticipating an enticing breakfast, the skipper is studying the sky in the hope of getting a good wind -- or planning a course suitable for the wind. At best, the weather shows a gentle breeze. As it was approaching the ETD, the skipper called two of the crew from their breakfast to work the ship. We usually leave the moorings or the dock under sail, but the light air forced the skipper to motor out around the breakwater.
Skipper speaks to Indian John, the navigator:
“We have a fresh wind about eight miles out, we should be able to fly the “Jenny” (Genoa, large jib) very well. We were getting a wind from the southwest; we will take off at a 10 degree direction until we are west of St. Joe and Benton Harbor.
We find this leg of 35 miles would make us about ten miles west of Benton Harbor, and we will then proceed at 90 degrees, depending on Indian John, navigator, to spot the harbor.
BENTON HARBOR, MICHIGAN…..
We arrived at 7 p.m. Sunday, a slow leisurely trip. Sea Dog Stew had finished the evening meal with Jovial Jack helping. We dock at the tavern. While the crew got to work making ship, some played cards in the cabin while others spent their time in the tavern. Skipper called attention to a wood carving on one of the table tops that had been made on a previous trip to Benton Harbor. The carving spelled out the name TRUANT.
We visited the idle shipyard where many of the LSC’s had been made of sturdy Michigan white oak during World War II.
More about “Truant” -- she has the following characteristics; length: 49’ 11½” on deck with a six-foot bowsprit and four-foot bumpkin, making L.O. (length overall) 60 feet. The mainmast is 72 feet to the keel, the mizzen is 42 feet and is yawl rigged. Working sails are, in area, 1,400 square feet. Power is with Gray Marine. “Truant” was built in 1908 in Sheboygan, Wisconsin.
The next morning, Monday, Stew is taking the day off as the whole crew is sleeping-in or taking in the sights of Benton Harbor and St. Joe. Nothing unusual took place all day as “Truant” lay idly by with patience. At 9 p.m., the motor was started, sail covers were off, mooring lines were let go, and we passed the breakwater as the sails were hoisted. Below, four of the crew had a card game going, while others enjoyed the star-lit deck and cockpit. We found the Little Dipper and we remembered that the edge of the Little Dipper points to the North Star. This agreed with the compass with deviation and variation noted. The helmsman laid the masthead on the star and we sailed quietly and slowly with a five-mile wind. This continued with each three-hour watch.
Tuesday’s dawn was bright and cool. The wind had been freshening slightly, and “Truant” sailed on by herself at three miles per hour with a little trimming of the Genoa and lashing the wheel at the right spoke. She would head a little, then luff the mizzen and fall off again to fill the mizzen. “Truant” was quite a boat and everyone on the lake seemed to know her -- had sailed on her, or owned her. The Genoa jib is about 25 feet on the foot, with the peak at the masthead 65 feet.
The wind changed southwesterly, causing us to come about. The crew had trouble bringing the “Jenny” afore the mast when coming about. At one point, we were in “irons” and had to use the mizzen backwinded in order to come about.
At 10 a.m. the wind shifted 60 degrees farther south and west, and brought the speed of the wind to 15 miles per hour. Indian John gave the skipper a course of 10 degrees in order to lay Muskegon. We sighted South Haven as the wind picked up considerably. The waves rose to eight feet and the whistling in the shrouds told us the wind force was about 30 miles per hour. We had since replaced the “Jenny” with the working jib. The bow waves flooded over the foredeck. As we were sailing almost directly afore the wind on an even keel, torrents flowed on either side of the cabin. The cockpit had a foot of water. The skipper muttered, “Wonder if we moored under any trees where the leaves would clog the otherwise self-bailing cockpit.” Just then, the jib halyard parted. Quickly, the skipper put a little less strain on the main, but it was too late. Because that brought the strain on the mizzen halyard and it parted too. This balanced “Truant” perfectly with only the main. To make matters worse, there came a torrential rain. Even in the pouring rain, we managed to see Muskegon lights. The skipper is muttering audibly, “Wonder if we can make it through the breakwater and then to the docks.” We felt for the motor switch underwater, hoping (but not expecting) that the motor would start. It did! We are free! We’ll circle around to point her out toward the lake. Douse the main and furl it, and we will dry it in the morning. Make fast bow and stern lines. Make fast opposite spring lines to keep her off the dock.
MUSKEGON, MICHIGAN…..
Tuesday at midafternoon everyone got into the cabin and closed the hatch. Some of the crew vowed they would never set a foot on deck ever again!
At suppertime the rain subsided and everyone seemed happier. We persuaded Honest Hal, purser, and his assistant, Fearsome Freddie, to get provisions for Stew to make a good meal for a hungry crew. A vote was taken and all agreed that as “Truant” was in a secure mooring, all would get a good meal at the hotel dining room. After dinner, the four card players took to the tavern and the others listened to the radio and read until “sacktime.”
The next morning, Wednesday, found purser, Honest Hal, and Fearsome Freddie going over the inventory and making a list to replenish the ship’s stores. The skipper, with Indian John, is planning the next leg of the trip -- the next port to be visited. The rest of the crew dried sails and spliced halyards, in addition to inserting them into the jib on the main mast, and also the halyard at the mizzen.
Muskegon was settled in 1837, and as many of the ports, on the mouth of a river (in this case, the Muskegon River). Here, in the Indian burying grounds, is the grave of Jonathan Walker, an early explorer. The towns had been built in Indian Tribes headquarters and Indian burial sites.
We left Muskegon at 7 p.m. Wednesday, leaving behind one of our crew, Fearsome Freddie. He abandoned the cruise to take a bus home. Leaving the harbor, we shall simply cruise offshore for about ten miles or so. We saw lights at White Hall, the entrance to White Lake, and also at Little Point Sable and Pentwater. On a nine-mile wind, we had been sailing until about 4 a.m. Thursday, when the navigator, Boisterous Bob, said we should be sighting the Ludington Lights. The skipper verified this, so all good hands got out of their bunks, preparing to go ashore.
We approached the harbor on 12-degree course. The wind is on our port stern quarter. It is daylight at 5:55 a.m. and we should not have any difficulty finding a mooring.
LUDINGTON, MICHIGAN…..
This town has a population of 12,000 and is the county seat of Mason County. Again, as so many ports in Michigan, the town has grown at the mouth of the Pere Marquette River. It was incorporated in 1873. The early explorer, Marquette Pere Jacques, died here in 1675. The French explorers came down the St. Lawrence River through the lakes. They entered Lake Michigan and many of them settled on either shore.
After furling the sails, we will have breakfast and a few beers. Then we will re-explore the town. Now we must prepare to continue our journey, leaving the breakwater at 10 a.m. Thursday. The skipper instructed the helmsman to steer a course of 320 degrees. He told Bob to measure ten miles on the taffrail log. We reached that point at 12:15 p.m. Now the skipper, Indian John and Bob are having a “conflab” on what port we will visit next. We decided on the town of Manistee.
MANISTEE, MICHIGAN…..
Manistee is on the mouth of the river of the same name. It was settled in 1840, and is the county seat. The population was 9,000 in 1970. It has a good harbor. We shall sail along the shore expecting to sight the harbor. As so often happens along the shore, we ran into a dead calm. At 4 p.m., as we sat at the table and on deck to eat a short lunch, we heard a shout and saw flames from the galley. The butane gas stove had leaked too much liquid gas to start the burner. The flames reached the ceiling as Indian John grabbed a small fire extinguisher from the mizzenmast behind the wheel. He jumped into the companionway as the flames subsided. Luckily, only the paint was badly burned, but lots of scraping and sanding will be necessary before painting tomorrow. The honors for evening dinner will go to the yacht club dining room. “Truant” finally got to rest on the dock at 7:40 p.m.
The crew makes tracks for the food. Stew, equal to his name, was served an over-generous plate of beef stew. Most of the crew had steaks with the exception of the purser, Honest Hal, who preferred the “golden brown” half fried chicken. He assured us that it was not half-fried. Now the crew lounged around, making plans for the next day. We decided to leave at daybreak, hopefully with a good wind, a good crew full of good food, and a good boat. Leaving the Manistee harbor at 6 a.m. Friday, we sailed north, keeping along the shore, in order to spot the hidden entrance of Portage Lake.
ONEKAMA, MICHIGAN…..
We took pictures of the picturesque wharf of the town, which is at the end of the lake. But “picturesque” is all there is to the town. It may have been a busy harbor at one time, but now it is just a “dead” town. At the turn of te century, it was a shipping port for lumber destined for other cities on the west coast of Lake Michigan. There were a couple of fishing boats tied at the wharf. At one time, fishing was a large industry here.
This gave Stew, the cook, a suggestion that we buy some trout and have a fish fry, which we did. Jovial Jack, along with others, started to clean fish. The rest of us found an area with tables and an excuse for a grill. We found that Stew had bought enough fish for a crew of the Queen Mary. However, we ate well -- and well into the morning. Leaving Portage Lake, we sailed into the big lake, while making plans for the next port.
Now we found a stiff wind from the northeast. We left with a beam wind, which increased in velocity. When we got well into the lake, we hardened up, putting us on the starboard tack. Our course was now on straight north and the wind was picking up -- hitting up to about 30 miles an hour in the puffs. The lee rail was under most of the time, and bow waves were making us wet even in the cockpit. Our course took us north at about seven miles an hour. At 5 p.m. we took a port tack for about 15 miles. We decided to tie up where there would be some quiet water. This put us at the entrance of Glen Arbor at 8 p.m.
GLEN ARBOR, MICHIGAN…
There would be nothing for us to do except sleep, which all of us did. We woke up (some of us were awakened) on Saturday morning at 6 a.m.
Stew, with the help of others, fixed us a good breakfast -- bacon, eggs and potatoes. Others made the ship ready to get under way. As we left this pretty little harbor, we marveled on the beauty of the trees and the scenery.
Skipper decided on a course of 335 degrees and Boisterous Bob started the D.R. (dead reckoning track) at 6:20 a.m. ETD. Our course took us between the South Manitou (the smaller) and the North Manitou (the larger). The wind had eased considerably from the east. The navigation crew logged our speed at about three miles an hour.
The leisurely trip put some of the crew to storytelling. Skipper told his about a member of the crew during the blow. He tells it in his pseudo dialect, “Trow de anchor out! Men der iss no shain on de anchor!” “Trow it any vay! I am Captain of dis ship!”
Jovial Jack told of Fearsome Freddie leaving the cruise because of his wife expecting a baby. It reminded him of this story of a young father looking for his baby among the newborn. “Is that my baby, nurse?” “No, that’s a black baby.” “Well, I didn’t know, because my wife burns everything.”
At 7 p.m., Honest Hal poked his head out of the companionway and asked, “Where are we?” The skipper speaks, “You are aboard “Truant” -- that’s all that you need to know.” A short answer, but skipper was concerned about avoiding the islands.
During the night, we passed several wooded islands. Although there was a full moon and the islands were beautiful, the sea was calm and this was the most monotonous part of the cruise, so far as the crew was concerned. We picked up a freshening wind of about five miles an hour. At 2:30 a.m. Point Peninsula was sighted, and this gave us about two hours to reach the northernmost port -- the eighth port of our trip, logging 600 miles.
ESCANABA, MICHIGAN…..
We reached this midway port of the cruise at 4:40 a.m. Sunday. This town is the largest in population of all the ports so far -- 16,000. The industry in years past had been fur-trapping, lumber, mining and fishing. We all ate breakfast and then walked around the town. On the occasion of meeting a man with his face bandaged and his arms and hands bound, Jovial Jack asked him of the apparent accident. It seems that a wood saw pulled him under the circular blade. He was dragged on the ground and deposited in back of the saw. Jovial Jack listened to his story and told him it could have been worse. He told one of his stories of a man who found his wife in bed with another man. He shot his wife, then the man, and then himself. The listener said, “Well, it could have been worse.” “How?” “Well, if it had been the night before, it would have been me.”
The morning was spent putting in order and washing the deck. Everyone had a week’s washing to be done. Stew had to replenish the ship’s stores, at least as best he could, considering that it was Sunday.
On our visit to Escanaba, we found there is much historical information concerning “The Land of the Red Buck.” It had been learned from legend that “Estko” is derived from “Meshowa” -- Indian for “red” and “Alayaba,” meaning “buck.”
French missionaries traveled the St. Lawrence River and the Great Lakes in the 17th century. They encountered many bands of Indians, but there were not any permanent settlements until early in the 19th century. Escanaba was established from a trading post in 1862 by the Chicago and Northern Railroad and then in 1883 as a city.
Escanaba has the distinction of having the first woman lighthouse keeper, according to the encyclopedia.
Everyone seemed to be anxious to start back. We had planned to go to Porte de Morte, and then out in the big lake, but in order to make some time, we decided on Sturgeon Bay and through the Sturgeon Bay Canal. With a wind of 12 miles an hour from the southeast, we chose a course of 210 degrees.
We left Escanaba at 6:30 p.m. The sun was setting and it made a good scene with the tree-lined shore making shadows on the lake. After sailing about ten hours from Escanaba, we took a starboard tack toward the Sturgeon Bay Canal lighthouse. We had sailed near Port de Morte (Door of Death), but later remembered the story that the “death” was due to the massacre of Sac Indians years ago, and not wrecks on the shoals.
STURGEON BAY, WISCONSIN….
This is a busy harbor and the town is quite an industrious spot. Although the town in population is only half as large as Escanaba, there seems to be more business. We will go the route of the canal by motor. There will be no chance to sail here, as we are right on the wind. We shall leave the sails up just for an emergency, such as a motor failure. We were nearing the bridge and skipper blew two blasts. We didn’t expect any action immediately, but as we got closer, we started to get worried. Then we gave two toots again, and they swung open, much to the relief of the whole crew.
We left the Sturgeon Bay Canal and entered the lake at 8 a.m. Monday. After sailing for about two hours, we noticed a shift from the east and at 12 miles an hour. Now we can sail with a beam wind on a course of 210 degrees.
MANITOWAC, WISCONSIN…..
Manitowac is our next port and with the favorable wind we should be there at 6 p.m. This is a town of 28,000. We shall get our supper here, and relax a little from our “many hours at sea.”
We spent Monday night aboard the “Truant” and woke with the smell of bacon cooking in the galley. After breakfast, we spent some time looking over the harbor and find there has been considerable shipping of lumber. Also being near the cherry country, Door County peninsula, this was a famous port. The mean temperature on land being about 80 degrees, the fruit shipped by boat would find it cooler by water. Of course, this was true especially before the refrigerated freight cars were used. There were several fishing boats, indicating there was also an important industry here.
Tuesday at noon, the skipper and crew made ship. We find a brisk breeze from southeast, so the big Genoa jib is hoisted. As our course will be about the same as yesterday, 210, degrees, the skipper wanted to try a staysail between both masts. This is giving us a good speed, and we are off on a 30-mile trip to the next port.
SHEBOYGAN, WISCONSIN…..
The birthplace of “Truant.” We inspected the shipyard briefly where she was built in 1908 -- and she is still afloat. She is now berthed in a harbor north of Miami Beach, Florida. Skipper had heard of her as a sloop rig under another name. Later, after the cruise, the skipper said:
“But I would know her under any name --- any rig.”
Here we admired an 80-foot Gloucester Schooner. One of the crew had known “Truant” at Chicago. We were welcomed aboard and we examined this beautiful ship from stem to stern. Below, we found several staterooms in the forward cabin with a roomy head, boasting a shower and bathtub. The aft cabin included a roomy salon with a piano and beautiful galley. She was a handsome ship, if you could use that word, and we all admired her.
The wind was from the south now and the sea was calm. The two-mile wind was barely enough to move “Truant.” Sea Dog Stew had started supper, as the sea was so glassy that no motion of the boat would bother him from cooking his favorite dish, beef stew.
We started from the harbor of Sheboygan on a starboard tack and at 9 p.m., the wind picked up, permitting us to come about almost 30 miles from the harbor at midnight.
MILWAUKEE, WISCONSIN…..
We docked at the Milwaukee Yacht Club about 11 a.m. Wednesday. We visited with several members -- some of whom had sailed on “Truant,” telling stories about her. One old yachtsman told about the earlier years, when she was a gaff rigged sloop. This was easy to believe, but of all the stories told about “Truant,” no one before this told of how she was named the “Southern Cross.”
We all had a good meal at the yacht club, as Stew was short on provisions.
Milwaukee is the home of Jovial Jack, the second cook, so he decided to “jump ship.” His wife came to meet him at the yacht club, and we all had a happy and friendly farewell party. Fearsome Freddie left at Muskegon and that left us with a crew of four; navigator, Indian John and his assistant, Boisterous Bob, the cook, Sea Dog Stew, the purser, Honest Hal, and the skipper.
We left at 5 p.m., again with barely enough breeze to move -- this decreased to nil. We lolled around the deck and in the bunks until the breeze started to pick up at about 9 p.m. Our next port was the former home of the skipper. With the meager wind, we didn’t expect to get there until just before daylight.
RACINE, WISCONSIN…..
We sighted the four-mile lighthouse at Wind Point at 4 a.m. At that point in time, the skipper spoke:
“As a boy of about 15, my brother of 13 and I were blown on the beach. I had bought a new canoe for $20 in 1910. I made a mast with a gaff rig and boom. My mother sewed the sail at my direction. I made lee boards to swing on a cross member athwart the gunnels. All the woodwork, including the floorboards and the seat on the floor with the back, were varnished with four coats.”
“As I look back at this sailing craft, I modestly marvel on the engineering -- everything was perfect.”
Skipper was surely proud of this canoe, and the sailing experiences he had with it. It was nice to see his face light up as he reminisced of his boyhood.
“The day we were beached, the wind was from the east and the waves were about three or four feet high -- too high for the freeboard of a canoe. We tried to keep the wind right at the stern of the canoe, in order to keep the water over to the side.”
“Truant” reached the dock of the Racine Yacht Club at 5:30 a.m. While waiting for someone to get us gassed up, we had breakfast aboard.
“Truant” reached the dock of the Racine Yacht Club at 5:30 a.m. While waiting for someone to get us gassed up, we had breakfast aboard.
Then it happened -- the only serious accident on the cruise. We found that a 60-foot yacht had to be moved before we could reach the gas pump. Boisterous Bob and Honest Hal helped to move the other yacht, along with the crewman. He handed Bob an endless line at the bow, then he left to help Hal at the stern. The result was that the bow moved out. Bob couldn’t hold the bow-line, or let it go. So the endless line pulled Bob’s hand over the cleat, mashing the third finger of his right hand. Now the skipper speaks:
“Never take or hand a line unless you know the fall (the loose end) is free and running. It is like handing a man a loaded gun -- pointed at him.”
As luck would have it, we found the owner of the other yacht was an insurance agent in Chicago. Skipper phoned him as we went to the doctor, and the doctor said he would send him the bill.
At noon we left on the last leg of the cruise, and we were all anxious to recognize all the landmarks. We noted the harbor at Kenosha and Waukegan. Then further south, and farther from shore, we could just make out the Naval Training Station.
Just as we were nearing the Municipal Pier at Chicago, Hal noticed a dark object in the water. After circling around, we recognized the gruesome sight of a dead man near the Oak Street Beach. We tried to bring him aboard, but after an unpleasant attempt, we gave up. Hal got a line on the “stiff” over his head and one shoulder and arm. Indian John semaphored the Coast Guard “dead body afloat.” We wished the masthead light was hooked up, but as we got near, we noticed the Coast Guard boat approaching. They pulled the body on their boat -- which was O.K. with us.
We docked at the Columbia Yacht Club at 10 a.m. Friday morning -- a day sooner than we had expected. Skipper took Bob to a hospital where the insurance company admitted him by phone. Skipper found that Bob’s finger was smashed to such an extent that it had to be removed at the second joint.
We were surely sorry to get that bad news, especially as we had to confront his wife with it the next morning. We waited for the skipper until 7 p.m., then had supper at the club. When he arrived, we sat around and talked until sacktime aboard “Truant.”
Saturday we moored “Truant” in the yacht basin, after taking our gear and other personal belongings to the Club.
The Cruise of Lake Michigan had ended.
The happy, close association had been abruptly drawn to a close with a sad parting.
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