The Wireless Operator—With the U. S. Coast Guard

by Lewis E. Theiss

Of a sudden the Iroquois was jarred from stem to stern. Again and again, as she rolled in the waves, came that pounding, jarring sensation. She had struck bottom. She was on the shoals. The captain signaled for full speed ahead, and shouted an order to the men at the anchor-chain. The propeller began to revolve slowly, then faster, then at full speed. The engine on the forward deck began to heave in the anchor-chain. The Iroquois seemed to pause and gather herself for a leap. Almost imperceptibly at first, then faster, and then with a rush, she moved through the water. An oncoming comber, towering toward the skies, met her bow on, and again the little cutter plunged headlong under water. A warning cry went up. The men on deck grasped rope and rail and clung with all their might. The great wave went sweeping aft like an avenging fury, but not a man was swept away. Instantly the captain signaled to lessen speed. The Iroquois forged ahead more slowly, the leadsman sounding continually and shouting the depth to the commander on the bridge. Soon the cutter rode at a safe depth. The engines were stopped, the anchor-chain was made fast, and once more the Iroquois rode safe at the edge of the breakers.

All the while the resistless tide was sweeping the struggling men in the breakers out toward the Iroquois. One by one they were now borne past the ship, struggling desperately to reach her side. With trembling hands eager comrades flung ropes and buoys. All fell short. One man alone came close, bravely fighting his way to the starboard side of the cutter. A sailor climbed over the rail and down a ladder, leaned down, and snatched his struggling comrade as the latter shot upward on the crest of a wave. At that instant the ship lurched violently to port, the sailor’s grasp was broken, his comrade was torn from his grip, and the poor fellow was sucked away by a wave, and, struggling desperately, was borne out to sea. All about the Iroquois men were fighting with the waves. In desperation their comrades watched them.

To launch a boat seemed not humanly possible. No little craft could live in such a sea. But the captain called for volunteers, and as one man the crew sprang forward.

“Lower away the leeward lifeboat,” roared the captain.

Eager hands unbent the gripes, the falls were loosened, and the lifeboat dropped level with the rail. Into her leaped the chosen crew, with the executive officer in command. Down went the boat. For a moment it rode the waves in safety, and pulled out toward the struggling men in the sea. It had almost reached the nearest when a swirling comber rose beside it, towered a second above it, and then came crashing down on it, burying men and boat under tons of yeasty water.

For a moment, boat and men were completely lost to sight. Far down beneath the swirling seas the ill-fated crew of the lifeboat had been thrust by the towering comber. The moving searchlight showed no human form among the savage seas. Then suddenly the sea was full of struggling men. Some fought their way to the overturned boats and clung to them. Those whose grips had loosened were seized by their comrades and dragged back to the pitiful security of a hold on a floating boat. Some could not gain even this slender assistance.

At this instant the tide turned. Far to seaward the men from that first ill-fated boat had now been swept, out into the blackness of the night, past the possibility of assistance. But the struggling crew of the other boat were now borne slowly shoreward. Now wave and wind combined to wash them toward the distant sands. It did not seem possible that they could safely pass through that seething caldron. With incredible fury the waves beat down upon them. Like chips in a mill race they were tossed helplessly this way and that. But every man of them wore a life belt, and despite the buffeting of the seas all remained afloat and alive. Bravely they continued to fight for their lives.

Two boats had been swamped. Two crews were battling for life in the waves, and one was irrevocably lost. But men still pressed forward and begged to be allowed to try again. No boat could live in such an awful sea, yet the men of the Iroquois pleaded for a chance, a last chance, to save their comrades. The captain ordered one more boat lowered. Like its predecessors, it lived but a few minutes in the awful sea.

Three boats had now been capsized, and three crews were struggling in the sea. Many were clinging to the overturned boats, while others had gained some of the buoys thrown to the crew of the first overturned boat. Numbers were swimming unaided. The sea was full of boats and floating men. Impotent, heartsick, torn with anguish, the men remaining on the Iroquois stood watching the awful sight. They had done their best. They had done all that human beings could possibly do, but it was not enough. There was nothing else they could do but pray, and many an agonized seaman, rough as a barnacle, stood with tears streaming down his rugged face and prayed for his comrades struggling for their lives in that awful sea.

Perhaps those prayers were heard. With every minute the incoming tide ran stronger, washing the struggling men toward shore, where now were burning the welcome beacons of the crews from landward Coast Guard stations. Again and again they tried to launch their surfboats, and as often were beaten back. Now they stood at the edge of the waves, waiting to assist their comrades from the ship.