At 11:35 p. m., the Wellington's position was sent to the Warrington (Lieutenant Commander Van der Veer). To aid the destroyer in her search, rockets were sent up at fifteen-minute intervals, and at 2:30 a. m., answering rockets were seen. The men in the lifeboat were gotten aboard the Warrington, but the boat was crushed. Lieutenant Brown found some long, heavy planks; from these three rafts were improvised, which were lowered and lines let down so the men could reach them in the darkness. The lights of the destroyer were now in sight. The Wellington listed rapidly. With a hand flashlight, Lieutenant Brown signaled that he had to abandon ship immediately, and asked the destroyer to work in close and pick up his men. As the collier settled by the head, at the same time turning over, Brown crawled out over the railing and flashed his last appeal, "My men are in the water."
At that moment the boilers exploded, the vessel seemed to rise up, and as she lurched into her final plunge, Brown sprang into the water. This was at 4 a. m., in pitch darkness, a raging gale and tempestuous seas.
After swimming awhile, casting about for something to cling to, and finding nothing, Brown heard a cry for help. Swimming towards the man, he saw that he was clinging to a plank, and told him to hold on and keep his mouth closed, so as not to take in water. Finding two calcium lights burning, he extinguished them so no one should be misled into thinking they marked a raft. As he approached the destroyer, Brown called out repeatedly: "I had eighteen men." His sole thought was that the men committed to his charge should be saved.
Running close to the Wellington, the Warrington floated down three life-rafts and all available buoys, well lighted. It was still very dark, but from a few hundred yards to leeward the men on the Warrington watched the black hull turn turtle, slowly settle in the water, and then disappear. When dawn broke, they began to see men in the water, some on rafts and buoys, some on floating wreckage. Eight men were finally picked up, one of whom died on board. One of the first rescued proved to be Lieutenant Brown. A heaving line was flung to him and he grabbed it, but said he did not remember having been hauled on board. Apparently he lost consciousness, and his identity was not discovered until he awoke.
Three of the Warrington's crew had jumped into the heavy sea, with lines made fast to their waists, in attempting to save life. Seaman James C. Osborne, of the Coast Guard, supporting a shipmate, Coxswain Peterson, swam through the heavy seas and placed Peterson, who was only half conscious, on a raft. Several times both were washed off, but each time Osborne went to his shipmate's assistance and replaced him on the raft. Finally Osborne semaphored, "I am all right, but he is gone unless you come right away." The Warrington rescued them both.
Lieutenant Brown and eight men of the Seneca were saved, Machinist Boyce and ten Coast Guardsmen were lost, besides five belonging to the Wellington's crew. But for the heavy gale and rough sea that developed, Brown and his volunteers would probably have won out and saved ship and cargo. They upheld to the fullest the high traditions of the Navy and Coast Guard.
Another example of readiness to assume responsibility and act as the necessities of the occasion require, is that of Captain William J. Wheeler (U. S. Coast Guard), commanding the Seneca, which rescued the survivors from the British patrol sloop, Cowslip. After dark on April 2, 1918, the danger zone escort from Gibraltar, including the Cowslip, joined the convoy which the Seneca had escorted from England. A loud explosion was heard and the Cowslip displayed distress signals. The Seneca immediately headed for her, although the sloop flashed the signal, "Stay away! Submarine in sight, port quarter." Circling the Cowslip in search of the submarine, the Seneca and the destroyer Dale, which had also come up, began to search for the enemy. The established doctrine then was that, when a vessel was torpedoed, other vessels in the vicinity should not risk their own destruction by endeavoring to go to her relief and that rescue of survivors should be considered as a secondary duty. But American officers could not witness a disabled and sinking ship without making every effort to save her people.
Three times the Seneca approached, stopping to lower her own boats and take off survivors from the British sloop. One enlisted man and all the wardroom officers of the Cowslip, except the officer-of-the-deck, had been killed by the explosion. The Seneca rescued all the survivors, including the commanding officer, another commissioned officer, and 79 enlisted men. For this courageous and meritorious act, Captain Wheeler was commended by Admiral Niblack, Admiral Sims, and the British admiral commanding at Gibraltar.
LOST WITH EVERY MAN ON BOARD