The Story of the Teeshoe as told by the Sole Survivor Fred

On a storm-tossed night in December 1954, 12-year-old Fred Ilott went for a short ride with his father on the Teeshoe, a Powell River Company tug. George Ilott was the relief skipper on the Teeshoe, which had the mission that night of delivering a pilot to the freighter Giovanni Amendola. After dropping off the pilot, the tug was struck by the freighter's propeller and quickly sank. Of the four people who went into the frigid waters that night, only Fred Ilott survived. This is an edited account of his story about the others' heroic attempts to ensure he made it back to land. The unabridged version, published for the first time in the April 27, 2001 edition of the Powell River Peak can be found at prpeak.com.

It was a weekend and as taking the pilot out was supposed to be a quick trip, Dad took me along with him. The rest of the crew were George Crooks and Gray LeVae.

With great difficulty because of the raging storm, we got alongside the ship to the ladder and waited until the pilot had climbed up and cleared the railing. I later found out that, as he climbed over the railing, he gave the message: full ahead starboard. This, according to the Admiralty Court, was a negligent command.

We were on the ship's portside and just starting to pull away when the freighter started going full ahead. Because they were turning to starboard, their stern was pushing against us. We were trapped because they overpowered us. We were going full speed ahead but slowly we were overcome by the ship's propeller, which was showing about six feet above the water line as the freighter was empty of cargo. It was like a nightmare or a horror show, especially for a 12 year old, looking at that propeller thrashing the water as we were slowly moving towards it.

I could see my dad and Gray LeVae outside holding on to the rails on the side of the wheelhouse door. As soon as we started to go under the stern, the Teeshoe's mast broke off and broke in half just a little bit aft from where they were. Suddenly the propeller started hitting us, ripping parts of the side off. I saw the two-foot-wide steel reinforcement plate along the top of our hull spring outwards. I thought we were going to capsize when we went under the slope of the hull and the propeller was banging at it. All the time this was happening George Crooks was yelling as loud as he could over the banging of the propeller. Even his yell was a calm yell. "We're going to be all right. Just hold on and don't let go. We will be clear in a few seconds." Finally the propeller spit us out on the other side and the freighter kept going. "Are we sinking?" I asked.

I came out on deck just as my dad was trying to free the lifeboat. When they lowered it into the water, it swamped immediately. That is when I started to panic.

I asked, "Is the life boat going to sink?"

Mr. LeVae replied, "Don't worry, we have a raft too."

I calmed down but I got worried again when I saw that the raft was only about four feet by four feet, with ropes around the side. "You can't sit on that." Dad replied: "Nope, you just wrap your arms around the ropes and try and keep yourself as high as you can. It's going to be cold at first but you will land on Harwood over there in no time at all."

I looked and couldn't see a damn thing but I took their word for it. We had two life jackets and two life rings. George Crooks and I wore a life jacket and Gray LeVae and Dad took a life ring.

Before we jumped into the water, Dad said to me, "You are going to reach shore sooner than us because you're younger than us. When daylight comes I don't want you to wait around looking for us. I want you to start walking and look for help for us old guys."

He hugged me and said, "You're going to be all right," and "Let's go." Dad and Mr. Crooks jumped over and floated, holding on to the side of the swamped lifeboat. Gray LeVae and I jumped over and held on to the raft. It was incredibly cold. When you hit the water, you gasp loudly and lose your breath. You have to experience it on a windy December night to really know. After you finish gasping, you tremble and shake for the longest time. It was absolute hell.

Gray LeVae didn't make any noise, just quietly held on to the ropes. I nervously asked him if we were going to make it. He answered quietly, "Don't worry, you'll get used to the water. Just keep holding on; you're going to make it all right. I'm going to have problems. I'm too old and my health isn't good. If anything happens, don't worry about me. Just keep holding on because I know for sure you're going to make it." I was speechless because I knew he was gently warning me that he was going to die.

About half an hour later, Mr. LeVae started moaning and let go of the raft. I managed to get his arm back around the ropes but he was still moaning and his head kept dropping into the water. Finally I noticed he wasn't breathing and I knew he was dead.

I floated from the south end of Harwood Island to Duck Bay on Savary Island and spent all night in the water.

I want these brave men to be recognized as the real heroes they were. Every day of my life since this happened; the thought of these men goes through my mind at least once or twice. They must have known they were facing certain death when they jumped in. Now that I am at their age, I don't know if I could do what they did. It would be a tough act to follow. All three of them acted in unison like coaches, building up my ego and desire to win and they did a hell of a good job doing it.

 

After reading Fred's story in the Peak, Powell River documentary filmmaker Jan Padgett knew she wanted to bring closure to the story. Her documentary included taking the four children of the men who died to the ocean location where the Teeshoe had sunk.

The children were not at their fathers' funerals and nobody talked about what happened. In the 1950s there were no grief counselling teams. Through the documentary, the survivors' children were able for the first time to break that silence and talk about how they felt. At the Powell River Film Festival, they were the guests of honour when the film was shown. Everyone in the theatre was in tears as it ended. More tears flowed when Fred, his brother George, Cathie Crooks and Doug LeVae were invited on stage to speak.

Fred now lives in a care facility and is in the late stages of Alzheimer's disease. Without his brave effort, this story would have been lost.