shipwreck – Prince Edward County Moments

Rescued by destiny: A love story anchored in history

watercolour — Tue, 21 Jul 2020 15:06:21 +0000

Our family's journey came together in the summer of 1972, completing a circle that had started almost a century before with a shipwreck on Lake Ontario.

By Anne Bongard VanVlack

Unbeknownst to us, our lives were intricately woven into the fabric of Lake Ontario's currents and the mysterious pull of the Marysburgh Vortex.

The Marysburgh Vortex

The Marysburgh Vortex, found off Prince Edward County's eastern coast, holds stories of unexplained shipwrecks, reminiscent of the Bermuda Triangle, from the age of sail and steam.

A Fleeting First Encounter

My journey into Bill's life, my future husband, began in a fortuitous way. In the summer of 1972, I was on Prince Edward Bay, fishing near our family's cottage at Morrison's Point. Bill was speeding around in a boat near his uncle Jack Lyons' cottages in Waupoos. Our paths briefly crossed in the bay—a fleeting encounter as Bill's boat circled mine. There was a mix of annoyance and curiosity as he glanced at my boat. This casual meeting left a lasting memory and would lead to a deeper connection.

A Second Encounter that Lasted 50+ Years

The next chapter of our story unfolded over fifty years. During my teens, I worked part-time at Vince's Farmers Market in Picton, where Bill would come to deliver apples from his family's orchard. Recognizing him from our earlier encounter, I forgave his earlier cheekiness, setting the stage for our eventual marriage three years later.

Our Family's Mutual Heritage With the Lake

Our shared history with Lake Ontario runs deep through both the Bongard and VanVlack families. Water is integral to my Bongard heritage, with generations of ancestors immersed in maritime activities. My father, once a sailor, turned to land life after my birth. The fishing skiff at our family cottage, crafted by my father and grandfather, carries memories of their dedication. My grandparents, former lighthouse keepers at Main Duck Island, were commercial fisherpeople, etching memories of shorelines and fishnets in my mind.

(Shown above) Anne, second from left with sisters and paternal grandfather Gerald Bongard at Point Traverse lighthouse. My grandparents had been lighthouse keepers at Main Duck Island and they fished commercially — I have faint memories of Grandpa checking fishing lines along the gravelly shorelines of South Bay, and the smell of fish nets drying in the sun. Generations before them had also eked out a living from the lake.

Bill's heritage also centres on Lake Ontario. His family has a strong connection to its waters, with his father and uncles engaging in boating and racing. The legacy of his namesakes, a sailor uncle and a ship captain great-grandfather, underscores his family's deep bond with the lake.

(Shown at left) Bill started boating at an early age. He was 6 years old in this photo.

Bill’s namesakes are his maternal uncle Willis Lyons (a sailor, shown at left), and his paternal great-grandfather William VanVlack (a ship captain, known as Captain Bill, shown at right).

The depth of our shared maritime heritage became evident when we discovered a connection dating back to a shipwreck in 1882.

December 1882 .. SHIP AGROUND!

In December 1882, Capt. William VanVlack, Bill's great-grandfather, was at the helm of the schooner Eliza Quinlan. Laden with coal, the ship ran aground on Poplar Bar near Point Traverse Lighthouse due to high winds, fog, and snow. The Marysburgh Vortex's pull might have contributed to their misdirection.

An account of the shipwreck from the book by Hugh F Cochrane "Gateway To Oblivion 1980"

The first sign that the Quinlan was destined for a bizarre fate occurred shortly after the vessel had cleared the American shore and sailed into a fog bank. Such conditions are not too unusual in these waters during the late fall. But the seamen themselves admitted that this was an unusually thick fog, which shrouded the vessel in a wet gray blanket. With this came a rapid drop in temperature and snow crystals began to form, quickly coating the decks and hatches with a thick layer of white. Waves began to rise around the vessel and their battering became a savage fury few had ever witnessed. Thunderous waves continued to smash her hull and drive her on before the fury of the storm, and there was no telling in which direction the Quinlan was headed, for her compass had suddenly ceased to function, its needle turning lazily in its case. Lashed from all directions, the ship plummeted on, her route totally out of the control of human hands.

Shortly before noon the Quinlan slammed into the Marysburgh shore. Her masts had been snapped off, and her hull was split as violent waves pounded her to pieces on the rocks. Powerless to stop the destruction, the crew hung on to what was left of the ship while witnesses gathered on the shore frantically trying to rescue the exhausted seamen from the wreckage.

A Daring Rescue

The schooner faced peril from pounding waves, isolated for hours until local fishermen from the Point Traverse lifesaving station reached them, braving the elements for a daring rescue. This act saved lives and unknowingly secured future generations.

This account from the British Whig (Kingston) highlighted the courage of my great-great-grandfather, Jackson Bongard (shown at right), who played a crucial role in the rescue.

The British Whig, December 9, 1882, reported that “… before their rescue the crew were in a most perilous position for several hours but were eventually rescued through the gallant efforts of Mr. Jackson Bongard, of Long Point, and a picked crew, who heroically manned a fishing boat and brought them safely to shore. A lake captain expressed the belief that no other men could have accomplished the perilous undertaking. …”

Extract from an article by Willis Metcalfe, local marine historian

Impact of the Rescue on Future Generations

The ripples of this event shaped destinies.

Capt. William VanVlack's life continued, and Bill's existence owes itself to this rescue.

Jackson Bongard's pocket watch remains a Bongard family heirloom, and Bill possesses an engraved crystal shot glass from Capt. Bill.

Jackson Bongard’s pocket watch has been passed down through the generations. It is currently in my possession.

Bill has inherited Capt. Bill’s engraved crystal shot glass.

Did our initial meeting occur by chance, or was it destined to carry forward a legacy? Our bond, woven through the waters of Lake Ontario, unites a shipwreck's past with the present and the days yet to come.

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From helm to harvest: Captain Bill’s risky business

watercolour — Wed, 25 Mar 2020 03:03:27 +0000

Captain Bill stood as a venturesome mariner in the golden era of sail and steam. Known familiarly as Captain Bill or Billy, his full name was William Elias VanVlack. His tenure encompassed the command of various sizable schooners and steamers navigating the waters of Eastern Lake Ontario. While the remuneration was attractive, Captain Bill harboured aspirations beyond the helm.

As he traversed the treacherous waters known as the "graveyard of Lake Ontario," he carried the weight of sailing's perils on his shoulders. This menacing stretch east of Prince Edward County had claimed the lives of countless sailors upon its rocky shoals. Captain Bill remained acutely aware that his fortune might one day wane, thus prompting a resolution to acquire a coal yard and retire from his seafaring career.

To build the financial foundation for this aspiration, Captain Bill ventured into ship investments. However, this path proved to be nearly as precarious as captaining vessels himself. His initial foray led him to become a partner in the schooner Eliza Quinlan. In an early winter gale of 1882, misfortune struck as Eliza Quinlan was thrust onto the rocks near Point Traverse's Poplar Point. Captain Bill and his crew narrowly escaped the clutches of death, thanks to the Point Traverse lifesaving crew. Unfortunately, the ship faced a less fortunate fate, shattered by the relentless fury of the waves.

Yet, this setback only fanned the flames of Captain Bill's determination. Instead of quelling his ambition, it fueled his drive to expedite his retirement from the sailor's life. He proceeded to acquire interests in schooners W.J. Suffel and Cleopatra, as well as the steamer Varuna. Throughout his career, he commanded steamers like Alexandria, the Empress of India, Enterprise, Greyhound, C.H. Merritt, D.R. Van Allen, and the schooners Cleopatra and Eliza Quinlan.

His involvement with the W.J. Suffel brought its own set of challenges. The following tale is based on a story by Alex Taylor of Picton while sailing on the Great Lakes.

This Suffel – there being three of them, and this was the middle one, the W.J. – was getting on in years. She had been a good ship, but had been laid up for a while. Capt. Wm. VanVlack of Toronto – everybody liked Billy and called him that – had taken the plunge and bought her at a bargain, as he thought. Thus, after years of struggle with the lakes, he became an owner. He didn't let it go to his head. He remained master of the steam barge D. R. Van Allen, at a good wage, and got Capt. Steve Taylor to sail his property.

Full of zeal, Steven brought the W.J. Suffel into Fairhaven, N.Y. for her first load. He told the DL & W office to pour 500 tons of anthracite into her, pronto. An hour later he was back, crestfallen. He found that the vessel was not insured, because the inspector found that it needed repairs. Billy knew nothing about it. The load of coal had been assigned to him, so if the load didn't arrive in Toronto he would be "barefoot at fifty." (broke)

So the crew set out for Toronto, hoping for the best. Next morning, in midlake, they found that there was a leak that the pumps could not keep up with. A few inches more and down she would go. "Boys" puffed Steve, under his breath so his daughter Jessie (the cook) wouldn't hear, "I hate to do this, for everything Billy VanVlack has in the world is right under our feet. But, we've got to leave her, if we're going to keep our caps dry".

"What are you doing, dad?" asked Jessie, as they readied the yawl. "We're leaving her, Jessie," Steve almost sobbed. "We're ruining Billy Van Vlack but we can't keep her afloat. We may be in the yawl a long time Jessie, and, you know -- hadn't you better go to the toilet, before you get into the boat?"

The Suffel was a well-found lake schooner, with a toilet for the cabin (most vessels used "outside plumbing".) When Jessie returned, she remarked that it sounded like a city hydrant bursting in the toilet. She had accidentally discovered the leak that was caused by a corroded discharge pipe from the toilet. The crewman Alexander Taylor worked underwater in the dark to stop up the leak with a wad of tarred waste and sailmaker’s fid (rope splicing tool). If the ship had sunk, it would have carried him a hundred fathoms down to the bottom of the lake. The pumpers started gaining on the leak and they limped the Suffel along for twelve hours until the lights from Gibraltar Point were spotted. Everyone was exhausted from the continuous pumping. If the wind had come up, it would have blown the Suffel over, with all that water in her.

Billy VanVlack met them with Joe Goodwin's little tug Nellie Bly. He had sold the coal cargo by telephone, the hour the Suffel was sighted. They towed her to the Burns dock. He paid the crew a bonus and instructed Steve to get all the work done that was needed to re-class her for insurance. "This trip'll pay for it all. No, don't lay the boys off. Keep 'em on full time till she's ready to sail again, and then sign 'em fresh. And double whatever you're paying Jessie."

The painting of the schooner W.J. Suffel, commissioned by Captain Bill, has been passed down through generations, now resting with his great-grandson (my husband, also named Bill VanVlack).

Though a coal yard remained an unrealized dream, Captain Bill shifted his focus closer to his familial roots in Picton, eventually partnering in the Royal Hotel. In 1912, he bade adieu to his sailing days and acquired a lakeside farm in Cressy, sharing it with his son Muir.

Photographs show Bill relaxing on the farm's veranda, overlooking Lake Ontario—a refuge from sailing's perils. His daring maritime journey ultimately yielded the safety of a farmer's life. Thus, Captain Bill transformed into Farmer Bill, a testament to perseverance and a risk-taker's legacy.

This article was featured in County Magazine Spring 2021 issue.