2…It takes about fifteen minutes for the lock to empty its seven million plus litres of water into Lake Huron.
A few tourists were watching the ships in the locks from the American side.
I watched a man with bright red hair pick up a pair of binoculars and look at our ship through them.
I walked across the deck to pick up my bag.
I was almost there when I was thrown to the ground, the air knocked out of me.
I thought at first that someone had hit me.
But when I tried to stand up, I realized the deck was shaking underneath me.
The head cook was standing at the edge of the ship, trying to hold on to the steel cables.
I watched in horror as she was thrown backwards and fell over the side of the ship.
I didn’t understand why we were rising again when there was no water to push us up.
I felt horribly sick. Bledsoe was standing near me, his face grey.
Sheet of water rushed up between the sides of the ship and the lock.
Thirty metres above us the water rushed, before falling on to the deck, knocking me over again.
I wanted to shut my eyes, to shut out the disaster, but I couldn’t stop staring. A great cry sounded above the noise of the water.
The wood tore and the ship broke in two.
We fell again into the lock, falling down into the forward gates.
Wet grain poured out of the holds, covering everyone with gold mud.
The deck moved sharply down and I held on to the steel cables so that I wasn’t thrown into the centre.
The broken ship lay still.