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The Fate of the
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Louise H. Randall

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The Fate of the Schooner
Louise H. Randall.

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BOSTON, 1904.

Copyright, 1903,
By Louise H. Eandai.i..

THE FATE OF THE SCHOONER
LOUISE H. RANDALL.

Zo /IDi? 1C)usban&,

WHOSE COURAGE AND SKILL CARRIED ME THROUGH THIRTY-
EIGHT HOURS OF A TERRIBLE SHIPWRECK, THIS STORY I.S
DEDICATED. LOUISE H. RANDALL.

THE FATE OF THE SCHOONER
LOUISE H. RANDALL.

^' T WED thee to the sea," were the prophetic
1 words uttered when the schooner that was
to bear my name — Louise H. Randall — was
launched upon the briny deep. It was a gray
day in April — a fitful month — and while the
skies did not weep, the sun refused a benedic
tion. The launching was an event that Captain
Randall and I had given much thought to.
We decided to depart from the usual form of
breaking a bottle of champagne, and introduce
an old Venetian custom, that of launching the
schooner with a ring. In response to cards of
invitation, about four hundred guests came to
witness her christening. Among them were
the owners, friends of the builders, and per
sonal friends of Captain Randall and myself.
Capt. Hank HafF, who had won fame in sail
ing the Volunteer, was best man, as he had the
honor of placing the ring on the bowsprit.

THE FATE OF THE
The ring was of solid gold, inscribed with the
name and date of the launching, and the words,
"Wedded to the Sea," engraved upon it. It
was attached to the bowsprit with yards of
pink ribbon that floated in the breeze of the
soft spring day. The vessel was gaily dressed
with flags ; a band on deck discoursed inspiring
music, and as the time arrived, I took my stand
on the bow, holding one end of the ribbon. As
the last of the blocks were knocked away from
under the keel and the vessel shd into the
water, I released the ribbon that held the ring,
at the same time saying: "Here's success to the
Louise H. Randall. I wed thee to the sea."
The ring fell into the water, and amid the
cheers of those on board, the strains of music
and salutes from numberless sister crafts, she
took her maiden dip and was successfully
wedded to the sea.
The Louise H. Randall had everj' reason to
be proud of her ancestral tree, as she was built
from timber grown in the far-famed woods of
New Hampshire, on the estate of ISIr. Luther
A. Roby of Nashua, who was one of the larg-

ws<;

M W111>

THE FATE OF THE
est owners in the vessel. Her keel was laid in
July, 1891, in the yard of John M. Rrooks, in
East Boston, on the blocks where the ship
Great Republic was built. At the date of
launching, April 28, 1892, the Louise H. Ran
dall was the largest schooner ever built in ]Mas-
sachusetts. She ^^'as t\vo hundred feet long,
forty-two feet beam, and had twenty-six-foot
depth of hold. Her tonnage was 1,500,
carrying capacity 2,700. She was fitted
with an engine of t^Aenty-five-horse power
for hoisting anchors and sails, and also
for the discharge of cargo. After launching,
she was towed to Fisk's Wharf, where she was
fitted with her spars and rigging.
In August of 1892 she was ready for her
first trip, and AA'ith what pride and pleasure
Captain Randall and I viewed her, it is impos
sible to describe. For months we had watched
her grow, — with every timber and spar had been
the thought it ^vas to be our home, — and as she
sat so proudly on the Avater, with her sails of
snowy white, her decks of polished wood, and
masts that shone like gold, we felt our greatest

SCHOONER LOUISE H. RANDALL.
anticipations realized. As we intended it for
our home, her cabins had every convenience
and comfort. The after-cabin was our living
room. It was finished in oak with mahogany
trimmings. The piano was made to order to
match the wood finish, and with easy chairs,
books and pictures, the room was attractive and
homelike. The forward cabin was the dining
room, and connected with the after-cabin by
folding doors — the two cabins being thirty-
three feet long. The staterooms were finished
in white wood, with a bathroom adjoining,
fitted with all conveniences.
My stateroom was very large, and daintily
furnished with brass bedstead and other fur
nishings. At that time the schooner had the
finest cabin of any vessel on the coast. As
much time and expense had been spent in the
planning and arranging of her fittings, she was
equal in her appointments to many yachts.
The Louise H. Randall was built for the
coasting trade, and in August of 1892 she
made her first trip to Philadelphia loaded
with ice from Bangor, Maine. To Cap-

THE FATE OF THE
tain Randall and myself it almost seemed
like our wedding journey — a journey taken
under the most pleasant surroundings,
as I had my charming cabin with its
dainty furnishings, and the schooner was much
like an immense yacht with its cleanliness and
comfort. She was looked at with admiration
by all who viewed her either from land or by
sea. We continued our trips and found the
vessel staunch and strong. She was all that
we had anticipated. In the gales that we en
countered, she proved most sea-worthy. When
a day of anxiety had passed, when she had bat
tled with wind and waves, and had come out
victorious, we felt that our pride in her was not
too great, that she deserved unbounded praise.
One who is unaccustomed to foUowing the sea
cannot realize the love and loyalty that will
grow and become an adoration for the inani
mate thing that stands by you in all times of
stress. Tossed and pitched by the tempestu
ous winds, and lashed by the fury of the waves,
she rides like a queen who seems to say : "I will
conquer," and when the skies are smiling, and
10

THE SCHOONER LOUISE H. RANDALL.

TFIE FATE OF THE
all nature quiet, she lazily floats along with
such a quiet demeanor that gives a spirit of
rest, and you feel that in all the universe none
are quite so free, so devoid of anxiety and care,
as those who have the good fortune to be sail
ing "o'er the sea," with the boundless blue sky
for a canopy, the deeper blue waters forapath-
way, and between both, your home, with all
that makes it loved and familiar.
For fifteen months we enjoyed our home on
the Louise H. Randall. The minor details of
those days I pass by. In November of 1893
we loaded at Port Richmond, Philadelphia, for
the Philadelphia and Reading Railroad,
twenty-six hundred tons of hard coal, and
left on the twenty-fourth for Boston. Our
crew consisted of the first mate, Thomas
Smith, Vineyard Haven, ]Mass. ; second mate,
George S. Phillips, Chelsea, ]Mass. ; steward,
John S. Adams, New York City; engineer,
John Otto, Boston, Mass.; sailors. Henry
Thiel of Germany, John Bgalrendund of Fin
land, George Leggett of jNIoriches, L.I.,Emil
Hammqvuist and Frederic Carlsen, both
Swedes. 12

SCHOONER LOUISE H. RANDALL.
We were towed down the Delaware River by
a tug, but owing to the low tide and the heavy
draught of water that the schooner required,
we went ashore ofl" Wilmington, Delaware,
where we laid over night. The next day, which
was the twenty-fifth, we reached Dan Baker
shoal, where we had to wait over night for tide;
from there we were towed to sea. On the
morning of the twenty-sixth, at daylight, we
found we were off" Five Fathom Bank Light
ship, on the New Jersey coast, and about
twenty -miles ofl" shore. The wind was increas
ing, barometer falling fast, with every pros
pect of a southeast storm. Our course was
shaped for Gay Head, as a sou'easter on the
back side of Long Island is dreaded by all sea
men. At noon the topsails, staysails and jibtopsails
were taken in and furled; at 2 P. M. a double
reef was put in the main, mizzen and spanker
sails, as the gale was increasing, and the sea
growing rough. Later it commenced to i-ain
and the weather grew thick. The forward
cabin door was battened, the shutters closed,
13

THE FATE OF THE
and everything made ready for a gale of wind.
As darkness came on, the gale increased, the
rain poured in torrents, but the men were
lashed to the wheel, and despite the storm, the
vessel made good weather. Of course we were
all anxious.
I Avas on deck three times during the even
ing. It A\as hard to remain below in the cabin.
Suspense is more difficult to bear when one is
alone with nothing to do, but my husband in
sisted that I staj' below, that it was not safe for
me on deck, and I threw myself in my berth,
where I could do nothing but listen to the tre
mendous roar of the wind, the mad lashing of
the AvaA'es, the groaning and creaking of our
noble craft as she battled with the tempest. As
I lay there clinging to the sides to keep myself
from rolling out, the hours seemed days. I
made several attempts to walk about the cabin,
but it was useless, as the schooner was rolling
and tossing about in such a way that made it
impossible. About ten o'clock, three seas came in quick
succession — they struck with such force that
14

SCHOONER LOUISE H. RANDALL.
the vessel was thrown on her beams ends, and
the cargo of coal shifted. On this account, the
schooner failed to "right," and the port rail laid
in the water. Everything movable was washed
from the decks. The halyards were washed
overboard, and the sailors had to go into the
rigging, in order to cut the halyards to get the
sails down. The water burst in the cabin win
dows and shutters, putting out the fire and
lights. The noise of the coal shifting, the
breaking of the waves like distant thunder, the
shouting of the men, the lashing of the sails,
the rattling of chains, the tossing and tumbling
about of everything movable in cabins and
galley, was a pandemonium impossible to de
scribe. I could not control myself, and I gave
vent to my feelings in shrieks and screams.
Was I engulfed in some hideous maelstrom?
Where was my husband? My one thought
was, I must get out.
In the darkness I sprang from my berth,
seized a blanket and pinned it around my
shoulders. I had on the rubber boots that I
had put on when I went on deck. Of course I
15

CAPT. WM. M. RANDALL.
Vineyard Haven, Massachusetts.

SCHOONER LOUISE H. RANDALL.
had not thought of undressing; on the con
trary, had put on a heavy jacket the first of the
evening. I tried to cross the abin, but found
everything tossed about excep ae piano, which
was fastened to the floor. The water was
nearly two feet deep. Every door except the
after cabin was closed and barricaded Avith the
wreckage. I finally succeeded in reaching this
door after being thrown down several times.
As the vessel had not righted, owing to the
shifting of the cargo, I had to crawl out. On
reaching the deck I cried out, "Are we lost?"
"No," replied my husband, "if she will mind
the wheel, I hope to run her into shoaler water ;
if she sinks we can get up to the masthead."
The sound of his strong voice with these reas
suring words gave me courage. I knew enough
about the sea, having been mj?^ husband's com
panion for sixteen years, that if we could run
into shoaler water our chances for being saved
would be much greater. I clung to the rail on
the side that was out of water, and there I
waited, every sea breaking over and drenching
me. The schooner was kept before the gale
17

THE FATE OF THE
under double reef foresail, fore-staysail and
jib. About three A. ]M. the lead was cast, and
we found we were in eleven fathoms of water.
From our position on her beams ends and run
ning before the Avind, Captain Randall judged
that unless the gale abated or the vessel sank
we should go ashore on Long Island between
Shinnecock Light and Fire Island. Of this
we had an awful dread, for, although Ave had a
staunch A^essel, aa-c kncAv that she would soon go
to pieces on the bar of the south side of Long
Island. The starboard anchor was let go —
about one hundred fathoms of chain run out —
then the chain parted. That Avas our only
chance to keep her off" the beach, as the port
anchor was under Avater, and Ave could not get
at it. Knowing that the breaking of the chain
left us at the mercy of the gale, I cried out,
"We shall surely be lost." ]My husband, see
ing my terrified condition, endeaAored to calm
me, and said: "I Avill save you if possible," and
threA\' off" his lieaA^y OA'ercoat and mittens, in
order to help me, should Ave go overboard.
This proved unfortunate, as later he needed
them. IS

SCHOONER LOUISE H. RANDALL.
The breakers toward which we were heading
are off" Long Island. There is a long, sandy
stretch of beach that extends from Fire Island
to Shinnecock Bay. It is about thirty-seven
miles long, and about every mile has been
marked by a wreck. It is separated from the
mainland by Great South Bay, Bellport Bay,
Moriches Bay and Shinnecock Bay. At one
point only does it connect with the mainland —
that is near Quogue. Toward this long range
of angry waves lashing on the beach, Ave were
madly rushing; nearer and nearer we ap
proached what would be our fate. Captain
Randall shouted: "To the rigging for your
lives!" I cried: "We shall be drowned!" but
with the instinct of obedience to the strong and
assuring command, I i-ushed Avith the men
towards the rigging.
The captain helped me up on to the shrouds
of the mainmast. In fleeing for a place of
safety from the mad, surging waves, we gave
but little heed of where we went; our only
thought was to get away from the mountainous
seas that would surely carry vis to eternity.
19

THE FATE OF THE
After a short time Captain Randall concluded
that it would be safer in the fore rigging as the
schooner was settling at the stern. He said
to AA'atch our chance and run Avith the sea, and
told me to wait and he would help me, but I
rushed at the first opportunity. I lost my
blanket, and it Avas swept away, leaving me
Avith no covering for my head. All but two
men reached the fore rigging; they AA-ent into
the main rigging.
At last the schooner sank and settled on the
port side, so that there was eight feet of Avater
aboA^e her decks. We found that Ave had sunk
near the outer bar off" shore about a half mile
from the beach at a place called Smith's Point.
As soon as she sunk the seas SAvept over her
decks with tremendous fury. I was then
lashed to the shrouds about fifty feet up from
the deck, but as the Avaves increased, we Avere
driven up higher in the rigging; each wave
seemed to break farther up than the one be
fore. At daylight we could see the life-saving
crews on the land trying to dcAase some means
20

SCHOONER LOUISE H. RANDALL.
to reach us. Harvey Corwin, the patrolman of
Smith's Point Life Saving Station, had been
patrolling the beach all night. His account of
the dreadful storm is of interest, as it shows

CLINGING TO THE SHROUDS.
how hard the crews worked to save us. He re
ported it a fearful night. The gale almost
swept him from his feet, and the rain fell in
torrents. He had reached a point about
21

THE FATE OF THE
three-quarters of a mile to the east of the sta
tion Avhen a large schooner loomed up in the
distance. She Avas hard aground several hun
dred yards off" shore, and the surf, almost
mountain high, threatened to destroy her.
The wreckage of the vessel was fast piling up
on the beach. He ran to the station for assist
ance, and returned Avith the entire force under
command of Capt. John Penny. As dayhght
came, it could be seen that the entire hull of the
vessel except her bowsprit Avas under water.
Her cabins and decks and a twenty-six
hundred-pound boiler had been torn out and
hurled up on the shore. In the rigging several
people were to be seen through the spray,
clinging to the shrouds.
One lif e-saA'ing crcAv after another rushed to
the rescue, coming from Petunk, JNIoriches,
Ford's River, West Blue Point and Bellport,
until seven crews Avere gathered at the Point.
Each crew brought its apparatus along, and
each in turn tried to get a life line OA^er the
wreck, and fast to her, that the Avork of rescue
might begin. They tried three diff"erent kinds
22

SCHOONER LOUISE H. RANDALL.
of projectiles, using the Lyle and the Hunt
guns and the Cunningham rockets. Twice
they succeeded in sending shots over the
schooner, but the cord attached to the shots
broke off". Other shots Avere well directed, but
the lines broke before they reached the vessel.
She was seven hundred yards from the shore,
and the apparatus that is furnished to the life
savers does not enable them to often get a line
fast to a vessel at this distance. Although the
rain had ceased, the wind was blowing a gale
from the southeast. It was impossible for a
boat to reach the ill-fated schooner. The
breakers were rolling in so fiercely that the
boat would have been overturned before going
its length.
All this time we Avere clinging to the
shrouds, and as our strength was fast leaving
us, and Ave knew we could not hold on much
longer, the Captain decided our only refuge
was the crosstrees. There are two crosstrees
to each mast about a hundred feet up, and a
space betAveen them of perhaps two feet. The
crosstrees are merely sticks of timber about
23

THE FATE OF THE
four inches wide, and are fastened trans
versely across the mast to spread the stays and
hold the topmast rigging. Knowing well
what a slight foothold they are for a sailor,
my heart sank at the captain's words: "We
must take to the crosstrees." Of course, my
husband's first thought was for my safety,
and seeing my terrified looks, he ordered one
of the men aloft to make ready one of the
topsail halyards. The cords were cut that had
held me to the shrouds. A rope was passed
under my arms, and Avith the help of the man
above and the assistance of my husband, I
was drawn up to the crosstrees and securely
lashed with ropes around my Avaist. Two of
the sailors were in the main rigging; the re
mainder, seven in number, came up on to the
fore rigging. These AAdth my husband and
myself made nine persons clinging to those
narrow cross strips of wood, four sitting on
one side, and five on the other, all fastened by
ropes lashed about their bodies.
All the morning the men labored with mor
tars and rockets to get a line fast to the wreck,
24

THRO-WING THE PRO/ECTILE

THE FATE OF THE
but only one projectile of those fired reached
the schooner. As this projectile shot through
the rigging, it must have struck a wire stay, as
the line was cut off". Thirty-six projectiles
were fired, the lines breaking twenty-three
times. Although our hearts sank at the fruit
less attempts, it was a merciful Providence
that interfered — if the line had reached us
and been made fast, and the breeches buoy
sent for us, we would have all been lost, as the
foaming bar laid between the A^essel and the
shore. We Avere one hundred feet in the air,
and from such a height the line could not haA e
been drawn sufficiently taut to haA^e carried
us safely; we should have all been drowned.
When the crews found all of their eff"orts
hopeless, they telegraphed to ^'iew York for
aid from the Life SaAdng Benevolent Asso
ciation. In the meantime night was coming on, Avith
no hope of rescue. Drenched to the skin,
wearied and exhausted by more than a Avhole
day's battling with the waves, hunger and
thirst had added to our misery, as none of us
26

SCHOONER LOUISE H. RANDALL.
had eaten anything since the evening
before, nearly twenty-four hours. Another
danger was a possibility — adding a new tor
ture to our suff'erings. When the schooner
buried herself in the sand off" Smith's Point,
the wind was southeast, but it had veered
around to the westward during the day, and
was blowing from the northwest. This being
a colder quarter, we found ourselves slowly
being chilled, and to the pangs of starvation
was added the possibility, if the wind increased,
of being frozen to death. Captain Randall,
knowing full Avell that in a nor'wester there
would be little hope of our surviving until
morning, devised a protection from the wind.
The topsail was the only canvas available, as
the lower sails had been blown away, leaving
the poles bare, and the captain, with the help
of the men, undertook to make sort of a tent
of the topsail to surround the masthead.
They had only knives to work with, and with
these they cut strips which they -fastened to
the masthead and topmost rigging. It proved
of little protection, however, as the Avind pene-
27

THE FATE OF THE
trated beneath it, and our only resource was
to huddle together as closely as possible.
The waves had made cruel work of the
ship's body, each comber carrying with it
shoreward some material evidence of destruc
tion. The stout bulwarks hewn from the
strongest timbers, and scarcely more than a
year old, were torn from their fastenings as
if they had been pieces of tissue paper. Iron
bolts Avere bent and twisted like mere pins in
a giant's fingers. Some of the timbers Avere
swept off" the schooner at a single roll, and
hurled high up on the beach. Others, the
frenzied sea seemed to delight in holding upon
the ill-fated A'essel, pounding upon her deck
until great seams were opened. The cabin,
the cook's galley, and the other deck struc
tures were torn and smashed into tiny splin
ters. The covers of the hatches were torn up
as easily as if they had ne\'er been fastened,
although they had been securely battened
down. Taff"rails were ripped off", and part of
the deck itself was dragged aAvay, exposing
the glistening cargo of coal below, AA^hich had
28

SCHOONER LOUISE H. RANDALL.
been the main cause of the staunch schooner's
destruction. One wave took up the boiler of
the donkey engine, which weighed several
tons, and tossed and pitched it about as a child
would a rubber ball at play. Hither and
thither it was thrown from one wave to an
other, tossing and tumbling about, now on
and now off" the deck, until at last, as if weary
of such mischievous sport, the ocean flung it
far up on the beach, landing it in such a place
that no ordinary high tide will ever be able to
drag it down again. Among the wreckage
that washed ashore was a package of letters
addressed to my husband from one of the
largest owners, who lived in New York City.
This gave them a clew, and by telegraphing
they learned the name of our schooner.
There was no way by which the people on
the beach could find out what vessel it was, as
her name was under the water, and they could
only see the masts. While we were clinging to
the crosstrees we could see the people gather
ing on the beach ; they seemed to come from all
directions. Two of my husband's schoolmates
29

THE FATE OF THE
were there, and when they learned the name of
the vessel, they stayed until we were rescued
the next morning.
It AA-as a wonder that the masts did not go
in the terrible turmoil. Each mighty wave
caused the schooner to tremble from stem to
stern, and each rumble was magnified to the
wearj^ watchers fastened high above to the
great spars. Time and again we felt that our
supports were at last going from under us.
The spankermast — the aftermast of the four
that the schooner carried — commenced to
tAvist in its socket in the afternoon, but it Avas
not until after midnight that it became dread
ful. Each wave that struck it would cause it
to turn and grind with an unearthly, crunch
ing sound that drove awful fear into our
souls. All thought it Avould be but a matter
of only a few hours at the longest when it
would go, and would carry all the other three
masts — foremast, main and mizzen — Avith all
of us clinging to them. Hour after hour Ave
could hear it squirming and grinding, but it
stood the strain, and in the morning Avas al
so

SCHOONER LOUISE H. RANDALL.
most as erect as ever. The fact that below the
schooner's decks there was firmly embedded
twenty-six hundred tons of coal, not less
than twenty feet deep, served as a sub
stantial support, and held the masts erect and
kept the stays from parting.
Oh, the long and dreadful hours of that
night — no Avords can describe them. We did
not give up hope, but tried to cheer each other
by speaking of the vessels that had been
wrecked and the crews had been saved by being
lashed to the masts. Life never looked so
sweet. It seemed to me that if I could once
step foot on the sandy shore that we could see
in the distance, I Avould be willing to live in
one of the huts forever. In our wearied and
exhausted condition sleep came upon us, and
we were obliged to arouse each other by talk
ing. The moon came olit and showed our
white, drawn faces.
Although the sailors suff'ered from the cold
and hunger, they were more warmly clad than
either the captain, mate or myself. The mate,
Mr. Smith, was like one of our family, having
31

LOUISE H. RANDALL.
Vineyard Haven, Massachusetts.

SCHOONER LOUISE H. RANDALL.
known him from childhood, and we had sailed
many years together.
The life-saving crews having given up all
hope of aiding us until the sea should cahn,
built great fires on the beach. This gaA^e us a
little comfort, and we felt if the masts only
held firm, and the cold was not too intense we
should live until morning, and then they might
be able to reach us. Some time before mid
night, Captain Randall saw the lights of a
steamer in the distance, and all strained their
eyes seaward, praying that help had come.
As she came nearer, the captain cried, "Ahoy
there!" but his A^oice was so weakened by ex
haustion that he could hardly have been heard
the ship's length. There was no response, and
again he tried — we alltried — but failed to reach
them. The moon came out from a bank of
clouds, and by its aid the captain discerned a
boat put off" from the steamer, but the tre
mendous seas prevented its reaching us. The
light from the moon shoAved us that nothing
could be done, and hope again died; still we
tried to be brave and encourage each other
,33

THE FATE OF THE
with the assurance that with the coming of day
the sea Avould surely calm and we would be
rescued. It was something to know that
others were trying to help us, and if our fate
was a grave in the dark and angry Avaters, our
friends would know it.
Some idea of the hard struggle of the
steamer I. J. JNIerritt in coming to our rescue
may be had from the account of the cap
tain, F. R. Sharp, A\'hich Avas published in the
annual report of "The Life-Saving BencA^o-
lent Association" of Ncav York.
"The telegram sent by the Life-Saving
Crew on Fire Island stated that 'a four-masted
schooner was ashore near Smith's Point, Long
Island; the creAA' and one Avoman Avere in the
rigging, vessel four feet under water. Life
savers unable to get to her on account of heaAy
surf.' On receipt of this telegram Capt. F.
R. Sharp received orders to go to the assist
ance of the distressed schooner, and the steam
er I. J. Merritt, D. A. Walcott, master, left
Stapleton, Staten Island, NoA^ember 28th.
Arrived off" AAreck at 11 P. M. Wind west,
34

SCHOONER LOUISE H. RANDALL.
blowing hard, and heavy ground swell. An
chored about one and one-half miles off" shore
in seven and one-half fathoms of water.
Sighted crew in rigging Avith night-glass. Got
cargo surf -boat ready, with one coil three-inch
manilla rope, one anchor about one hundred
and twenty pounds, and three lanterns;
also blankets and fresh water. At 12 A. M.
launched surf -boat. On account of heaAy
sea broke port quarter of surf -boat, also
broke galley door of steamer. Patched
surf -boat with canvas and battens and manned
her with nine men, eight of them on eight oars
and one man on steering oar. Left steamer at
12.20 A. M., and finding it impossible to pull
surf -boat to windward the steamer towed it to
the westward and windward of the wreck about
a quarter of a mile. Surf -boat then started
for the wreck, dropped anchor in seven fath
oms of water and worked surf -boat within
three hundred feet of wreck's stern.
Found wreck head on, decks under
water and could make out loose spars
.and break of sea. Started with surf-boat
35

THE RESCUE BY THE STEAMER I. J. MERRITT.

SCHOONER LOUISE H. RANDALL.
to eastward 1.30 A. Mr, November 29th, and
anchored off" wreck in about seven fathoms of
water ; surf -boat made fast to steamer. Placed
a large grapple in boat and set watch for the
night. At 6 A. M., wind west by south,
heavy ground swell, left steamer with surf-
boat, same crew of nine men. Worked
boat inshore to within two hundred feet
of wreck, let go large grapple south
west direction from port quarter of
wreck. Worked in on starboard side and got
fines to mizzen and main rigging to hold boat
in position head to ground swell and break of
sea, and clear of floating spurs. Rescued two
men from main rigging. Worked boat up to
fore rigging. Men on port oars in back mo
tion to keep boat in position. Took eight men
and one woman from fore-rigging, supplied
them with blankets and fresh water.
"Life-saving crew from beach arrived at
wreck, 6.30 A. M., with two men bailing their
boat out.
"Rowed and hauled cargo boat off" to
anchor; picked Up same and arrived on board
37

THE FATE OF THE
steamer 7 A. M. Placed wrecked crew in
steamer's cabin, and made them as comfort
able as possible. They all appeared ex
hausted. Hoisted surf -boat on board."
This is the authentic account of Captain
Sharp, who Avith his brave crew saved us from
a terrible fate. It is impossible for me to
describe the feehng that I have for these noble
men who risked so much to save us. And they
were so kind and gentle. For twenty-six
hours we had clung in our perilous position and
our hands and feet were so swollen that they
were like blocks of wood. This, with the hun
ger and thirst and terrible nervous strain, made
us so exhausted that we could do little to help
ourselves. My husband and the men tried to
help me descend the shrouds, but he was
greatly exhausted, and it was only his love and
care for me that gave him the strength to lend
me any assistance. They loAvered me with a
rope put around under my arms, but when I
nearly reached the boat I jumped, little caring
if I fell, for I was saved at last. But a sailor
caught me in his strong arms and I was placed
38

SCHOONER LOUISE H. RANDALL.
in the boat. We were quickly transferred to
the steamer Merritt, and oh! the luxury of
being in a berth once more. Thirty-eight hours
since anything — food or water — had passed my
lips. Our last meal was Monday at supper,
and it was about seven Wednesday morning
when we were put aboard the Merritt.
A breakfast was prepared but we could not
eat. Captain Randall fainted when he reached
the Merritt, and was in sUch an exhausted
condition that he did not leave his berth until
we reached New York. My feet were so swol
len that my rubber boots had to be cut off".
The crew of the Merritt were so kind to us.
Everything that they could do was done.
I cannot close my story without telling you
of the recognition given these brave men who
rescued us.
Again I quote from the report of "The
Life-Saving Benevolent Association of New
York."
"Capt. Frederic R. Sharp.
Dear Sir: The Live-Saving Benevolent
Association of New York have awarded you
39

THE FATE OF THE
their Gold Medal, which is inscribed as fol
lows: "Presented to Captain Frederic R. Sharp
in recognition of his courage and skill in the
rescue of eleven persons from the stranded
schooner Louise H. RandaU, with the surf-
boat from steamer I. J. Merritt, off" Mas
tic, L. I., at midnight and early morning,
November 29th, 1893.
The sum of twenty-fiA-e dollars has been
awarded to each of the sailors who accompa
nied you in the surf -boat at midnight and also
at daylight the following morning when you
made the rescue. Their names are as foUows :
I. M. Tooker, M. J. PoAvers,
Edward Dennison, George Perry,
Charles Hanson, Jacob WaLz,
Theodore Larsen, A. F. Elyer.
"It appears that Charles E. Rose of Pat-
chogue was instrumental in wiring to New
York the possibility of rescue from a steamer
outside, when the best eff"orts from the shore
seemed hopeless. It was fitting that his tele-
40

SCHOONER LOUISE H. RANDALL.
gram should come to the hands of a manager
Avho is the last sui'Advor of those named in the
Act of Incorporation of this Association, and
that the eminent merchants Avho did so much
forty years ago to aid the United States in
locating the Life-SaAang Stations should have
their Avork continued and supplemented by the
expedition AAliich, at the expense of this Asso
ciation, you so nobly and successfully com
manded. "Very respectfully,
(Signed) ' "W. h" H. MOORE, "President."
"January 3d. 189J<, the medal and money
for Captain Shar]) and his men, as described
aboA'e, Avere foi'Avarded to them through INIer-
ritt's Wrecking Organization.
"The sum of one thousand dollars for the
service of the steamer and crew Avas receiAcd
from this association and duly acknoAvledged."
After being rescued, Ave immediately
started for Ncav York City, where we arrived
about .5.30 P. M. In the meantime one of the
41

I'll

Mil -*i f '.

SCHOONER LOUISE H. RANDALL.
owners of our schooner, who lived in New
York, was doing everything possible to make
us comfortable when we arrived. He char
tered a tug and came down the bay and met
the Merritt, and with what feelings of joy did
we grasp his hand and know that we were
once more with friends. He had made ar
rangements for us to be taken to the Presby
terian Hospital, and Avhen we arrived at the
foot of East Seventieth Street, ambulances
were in Availing to take us all to the hospital.
I wish it were possible for me to tell you
how like Paradise it was when I was undressed
and bathed and put into a warm, comfortable
"bed, and the white-capped nurses fed me, and
I knew I was on land.
It was found that one foot Avas badly in
jured. I bruised it in my attempts to crawl
out of the cabin when the three seas struck.
All the time that I was up on the crosstrees I
was mindful of it, but my other suff"erings
were so intense I did not think it so bad. My
limbs were bruised, my hands torn from cling
ing to the ropes, the ends of my fingers bleed
ing and the nails worn down.
43

THE FATE OF THE
During the Hxe days that Ave were in the
hospital, A\'e had twenty-four visitors. The
love and sympathy of our friends can iieA^er
seem quite the same to us as AA'hen they came
A\ ith hearts overflowing and hands extended
to Avelcome us back to life. As extra editions
of all the Ncav York, Boston and Pennsyl
vania papers Avere issued to the public, our
friends at a distance kncAv of our terrible ex
perience, and eighteen telegrams and letters
came expressing sympathy, and joy at our re
covery. As health and strength came back to me, I
could not help thinking of the wreck of my
beautiful home on the sea. EAcrything had
been sAAept aAAay — my pretty cabin furnish
ings, my clothes, my keepsakes — everything
had gone, except my Avatch, AA-hich I hap
pened to have on. Captain Randall lost his,
and Avas, of course, as destitute as I. Our
clothes that Ave had on A\'hen Ave Avere Avrecked
were not fit to Avear, and Ave had nothing. I
had not even a hairpin. When I arrived in
New York I had on a pair of old slippers
44

SCHOONER LOUISE H. RANDALL.
(men's) giA^en me by the captain of the
steamer I. J. JNIerritt. I was bare-headed
and my dress skirt torn into ribbons by the
washing of the sea.
But friends Avere more than kind — flowers,
fruit and clothing Avere sent to us in abun
dance. One kind friend in New York came to
the hospital, and seeing our destitute condition,
hastened away, and A-ery soon returned, bring
ing clothing and cA-erything necessary for our
comfort and use.
It Avas a strange coincidence that the thirti
eth, the day after aa^c Avere rescued, was
"Thanksgiving Day," and certainly no more
grateful souls in the whole wide world could
be found than we who had suff'ered so much
and come so near to death's door. Although
the schooner was a total Avreck, and we had
lost CA^erything, we were thankful that our
lives had been spared, that Ave found friends
with warm heai'ts eager to do all that was pos
sible for our comfort.
The wreck of the schooner and the loss it
brought to others was a dreadful blow to my
4.T

THE FATE OF THE
husband. The cost of the vessel was $60,000.
As the insurance was less than $10,000, the
owners met Avith a heavy loss. This trouble
added to the horrors of the wreck, and with
this terrible experience, we ended our sea life.

46

YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

From the Library of
ANNIE BURR JENNINGS
the gift of
ANNIE BURR LEWIS