"You just think you're going to Whitefish." First mate Junis Macksey said it plainly, the way a veteran sailor states what he knows. He had ordered the wheelsman to hug the north shore of Lake Superior, where the land would shield the low-riding Arlington from the worst of the building seas. Captain Frederick 'Tatey Bug' Burke countermanded the order. They would take the direct route. Macksey had spent a career reading Lake Superior's moods. Burke was the owners' brother, hired after the company released the Arlington's experienced skipper following the 1939 season. Through the night of April 30, 1940, as gale-force winds turned the lake into a battering ram, the two men fought over the fate of a twenty-seven-year-old freighter carrying 98,000 bushels of wheat with only three and a half feet of freeboard. By dawn, the Arlington was gone. Every crew member survived -- except Captain Burke, who stayed in the pilothouse as the ship slipped beneath the waves.
She was hull number 192 at the Detroit Shipbuilding Company yards in Wyandotte, Michigan, in 1913 -- a steel-hulled, propeller-driven canaller built to fit the dimensions of the Saint Lawrence River locks. Her first name was F.P. Jones. In 1919, she became the Glencadam. The Mathews Steamship Company acquired her in 1936 and rechristened her Arlington, a name that stuck when the Burke Towing and Salvage Company purchased her that same year. Under the Burkes, she hauled grain in the spring and fall shipping seasons and pulpwood during the midsummer lull. She was small by Great Lakes standards, riding low in the water when loaded, but she had passed her pre-season inspection for 1940 and carried something the much larger freighter Collingwood lacked: a direction finder.
The dynamic aboard the Arlington in 1940 was combustible. Junis Macksey was a veteran ship's master in his own right, serving as first mate. Captain Frederick Burke was the brother of the ship's owners, installed in command after the company dismissed the Arlington's previous skipper. The two men disagreed on nearly everything that mattered during the final voyage. When the Arlington steamed out of Port Arthur, Ontario, on the afternoon of April 30 with 98,000 bushels of wheat, she followed the larger Collingwood into Lake Superior. Fog soon descended, and because the Arlington had a direction finder and the Collingwood did not, Captain Carson of the Collingwood slowed down and let the smaller ship take the lead. Macksey ordered a course along the sheltered north shore. Burke overruled him and set a direct course across the open lake.
By 10:00 p.m. on April 30, the wind had escalated to a full gale. Waves boarded the Arlington consistently, washing across her deck and hammering her hatches. The ship had only three and a half feet of freeboard when fully loaded -- every wave that broke over her bow ran the length of the deck. Macksey took the pilothouse watch at 12:15 a.m. on May 1 and immediately grew concerned about the hatches. At 12:30 a.m., both the Arlington and the trailing Collingwood slowed to about 7.5 knots. Macksey turned the Arlington into the wind so second mate Arthur Ferris could venture out and inspect the deck. Burke, awakened from sleep, entered the pilothouse, turned the ship back on its original course, and returned to bed. At 3:30 a.m., Macksey pounded on Burke's door and demanded he take command. By the time Burke reached the pilothouse, the number 5 hatch had burst open and the ship was taking on water.
Burke finally ordered a course for the north shore -- the route Macksey had wanted all along -- hoping to beach the ship and salvage her later. But it was too late. By 4:30 a.m., the fireman reported the number 2 hold flooding, the wheat cargo swelling with moisture, the bulkhead cracking, and rivets popping from the hull. Chief engineer Fred Gilbert declared the ship was sinking. The crew launched one lifeboat successfully and brought it around to the ship's lee side, sheltered from the wind. Every man climbed in -- except Captain Burke, who remained in the pilothouse. The Collingwood stood by just 250 yards away, close enough to log every moment. At 5:15 a.m. on May 1, 1940, the Arlington foundered. By 5:30, the Collingwood had retrieved the lifeboat and all its occupants. Burke went down with the ship.
Why Captain Burke stayed aboard remains one of Lake Superior's enduring mysteries. He was not a seasoned Great Lakes captain; he was the owners' brother, placed in command through family connection rather than merit. Whether he froze, whether pride held him to the pilothouse, or whether he believed the ship could still be saved, no one knows. The Arlington vanished into the depths of Lake Superior and stayed hidden for over eight decades. In 2023, searchers identified the wreck roughly 35 miles offshore of Michigan, her name still readable on the hull. The discovery renewed interest in a story that had been passed down through the Great Lakes maritime community for generations -- a cautionary tale about the consequences of ignoring experienced advice at sea, and about the cold mathematics of Lake Superior, which does not distinguish between courage and stubbornness.
The wreck of SS Arlington lies at approximately 48.46°N, 87.67°W, roughly 35 miles offshore of Michigan's Upper Peninsula in the open waters of Lake Superior. From altitude, this is deep open water with no visible landmarks at the wreck site itself. The north shore of Lake Superior runs to the north and east; Michigan's Upper Peninsula lies to the south. The nearest airports include Thunder Bay International (CYQT) about 100 nm to the north, and Sault Ste. Marie (CYAM/KCIU) approximately 160 nm to the southeast. The open expanse of Lake Superior in this area is striking from the air -- nothing but water in every direction, underscoring how isolated a vessel would be in a storm.