Schooner Lizzie S. James ~ March 12, 1900

NORTH CAROLINA MARITIME MUSEUM

Beaufort, NC

www.ncmaritimemuseum.org

The 2-masted schooner, Lizzie S. James stranded at Hatteras bar March 12, 1900. Gale force winds were blowing when the vessel broke in two near her main mast. The 173-ton ship had been carrying a load of lumber with a crew of five on board. Commanded by Captain Howard, the ship was bound for New Bern to New York. Due to high seas and the distance the ship was to shore, it made it impossible to reach her with the shot line. Hatteras and Ocracoke Life-Saving crews launched their boats in tumultuous seas. Due to waves breaking over the deck of Lizzie S. James the crew took to the riggings. The lifesavers weren't able to make it to the vessel. A number of Hatteras watermen, including Captain Ira Stowe, set out in a pilot boat to save the stranded sailors. They came within fifty yards of the schooner and signaled for the crew to leap into the sea. The crew jumped into the icy water and were able to grab a life line and were pulled to the pilot boat. They lost everything except the clothes they had on their backs. The survivors were tended to at Durants Hill Life-Saving Station. The ship and its cargo were a total loss. Lizzie S. James home port was in Philadelphia. She was built in 1883 in Milford, Delaware. It took a total of eight hours to save her crew. The photograph is an example of a two-masted schooner.

The Raleigh Times, March 12, 1900

Schooner Hettie J. Dorman ~ 5 May 1900

Annual Report of the Operations of the United States Life-Saving Service for the fiscal year ending June 30, 1900:

Sunk near the Outer Diamond Shoal by striking on a submerged wreck. The 5 men composing her crew manned the yawl and started for shore. They were met a short distance from the wreck by the crew of the Cape Hatteras Station, who took them safely ashore. The wreck drifted off the shoal and went ashore about 2-1/4 miles S. of the Little Kinnakeet Station. The crew of that station boarded her, and finding her deserted, saved some of the gear and kept a lookout over the vessel and cargo until the arrival of the master. The vessel was a total loss and the cargo was sold at public auction. The crew of the wrecked vessel were sheltered a the Hatteras and Little Kinnakeet stations until transportation could be provided to their homes. (See letter of acknowledgment.)

LITTLE KINNAKEET LIFE-SAVING STATION, NORTH CAROLINA, May 28, 1900

GENTLEMEN: Please accept thanks of myself and crew for your kindness in taking care of us and feeding us in our destitute condition, and for taking care of our schooner and cargo, which drifted ashore near your station May 6, 1900, until I arrived at Cape Hatteras Station, where I had been carried by the crew of that station, who rescued us from a small yawl on May 5, our vessel having been sunk off Cape Hatteras. I am glad, as a seaman, to be able from a personal experience to recommend this crew for doing their whole duty. In conclusion, I wish to congratulate the general superintendent for having such good and accommodating men in his service as I have found during my stay here. Very truly yours, J.W. SABISTON, Master of Schooner Hettie J. Dorman

Virginian Pilot, Norfolk, VA

Schooner Jane C. Harris ~ 25 February 1900

Annual Report of the Operations of the United States Life Saving Service for the fiscal year ending June 3, 1900:

Stranded about 2 miles N. of station while trying to enter Oregon Inles for a harbor during a heavy NW. gale. Station crew launched surf boat, but could ot pull to windward owing to the force of the gale and strong tide. The beach apparatus was then taken abreast the wreck and set up, and the first shot laid the line on board, but the crew did not have strength enough to haul off the whip line against the strong current. As a last resort, the surfmen took a large sailboat which lay inside the inlet and, taking the drogue from the surfboat, started out to the wreck. Upon reaching it, the sailboat was anchored 100 yards to windward and dropped down with a drogue line until a heaving stick could be thrown on board; then the sailboat was hauled in near enough for the imperiled crew of three men to jump on board. The sailboat was now lying in a very dangerous position and no time could be lost in hoisting the anchor, so the anchor line was cut and the boat headed for the inlet. A landing was effected safely and the shipwrecked crew were succored at the station for three days. The crew from Pea Island Life-Saving Station rendered valuable assistance to the Oregon Inlet crew in making this rescue. The schooner was a total loss.

OREGON INLET LIFE-SAVING STATION, February 28, 1900

SIR: We desire to compliment Captain M.W. Etheridge and his crew, and also the crew of the Pea Island Life-Saving Station for their heroid efforts in rescuing us from the wreck of the schooner Jane C. Harris, under the most difficult circumstances, while we were trying to make harbor in Oregon Inlet on last Sunday morning during a northwest gale and very cold, freezing weather. We were very kindly treated at the station after being taken off the wreck about nightfall by the life-savers, who worked under the most trying conditions, and we thank them all for their noble work, which saved us from an untimely death. G. De WAAL, Master ; H. PARSONS, Mate ; GEO. T. BISHOP, Steward

Schooner Mary C. Ward ~ 26 January 1900

NORTH CAROLINA MARITIME MUSEUM

Beaufort, NC

www.ncmaritimemuseum.org

1902 Chart

On this day in 1900 the schooner Mary C. Ward sank in the Pamlico Sound. She was carrying a load of oysters from Middleton to Swan Quarter. Of the 8 crew members on board only 3 survived. The ship was a total loss.

Barkentine Priscilla ~ 17 August 1899

Annual Report of the Operations of the United States Life Saving Service for the fiscal year ending June 30, 1900:

Broken into pieces and driven ashore by the tempest, 3 miles S. of station, with the 10 survivors of the crew clinging to the after part. The master’s wife and son, the mate, and a boy were washed overboard and lost before the wreck was driven upon the beach. The station patrolman, Rasmus S. Midgett, rescued the survivors at the risk of his own life by rushing down the bank into the surf and dragging them ashore. They were taken to station, provided with dry clothing from the stores of the Women’s National Relief Association, and, as these gave out, from the keeper’s own supply. The wounds of the injured ones were dressed, and they were all succored until able to leave for their homes. The bodies of the captain’s wife and son were recovered and properly interred N. of the station. (For detailed account see caption “Loss of Life.”) 

Wreck of the Barkentine Priscilla

The hurricane that wrecked the Reppard, as described in the preceding narration of the circumstances, did not attain to the full measure of its terrific power until August 17. The report of the Weather Bureau signal station at Hatteras says that on the morning of the 16th the wind reached a velocity of 50 miles an hour, increasing thereafter until at 4 o’clock on the morning of the 17th it was blowing at the rate of 70 miles. By noon it had increased to between 84 and 93 miles, while at 1 p.m. an occasional extreme of more than 120 miles an hour was recorded. The signal station was disabled at about that time, but the observer states that he believes the regular movement of the wind was not less than 100 miles an hour between 3 and 7 o’clock p.m. of that day. There were not more than four houses on Hatteras Island into which the tide did not rise to a depth ranging from 1 to 4 feet.

     It was near midnight of this day when the barkentine Priscilla, of Baltimore, MD, was blown ashore and broken to pieces, finally fetching up at 4 a.m. of the 18th about three miles south of the Gull Shoal Station and only about half a mile to the southward of the dismal remnants of the Reppard. The Priscilla was an American vessel of 643 ton net register, commanded by Captain Benjamin E. Springsteen, owned in Baltimore, and bound from that port to Rio de Janiero, Brazil, laden with a general cargo. She had on board 14 persons, 12 of whom comprised the officers and crew, the others being the captain’s wife, Virginia, and his young son, Elmer, 12 years of age.

     The Priscilla left Baltimore on Saturday, the 12th of August, and was towed down Chesapeake Bay as far as the James River channel, where she came to anchor and remained until Monday morning, August 14, when she proceeded to sea, passing out of the capes of Virginia at 6 a.m. and standing east under all sail, the wind being moderate from west-northwest and hauling to the northward. At noon Cape Henry bore 30 miles west. At midnight the breeze was very light, the barometer high, registering 30.20 inches, and the weather was clear. By Tuesday morning, the 15th, the wind had shifted to the northeast, and the sky was cloudy, with a light rain falling. These conditions remained unchanged until about midnight, when the breeze hauled east-northeast and increased so much that the skysail and jib topsail were taken in.

     On the morning of Wednesday, the 6th, the wind was blowing so hard that all the light sails were taken in, and by noonday it was found necessary to furl the spanker and upper topsail. The gale soon became more violent and the foresail was hauled up and furled, the lower topsail clewed up but blown away, and two reefs put into the mainsail, which was also lost, as well as the main staysail. Then the captain hove to under bare poles, heading southeast in an east-northeast tempest, and rapidly drifting to the south-southwest. He knew, although able to get no observation for 24 hours, that he must be only a little to the northward of Cape Hatteras, and he was doing his best “to get clear of it.” Of accomplishing that result, however, he must have entertained little, if any, hope.
     Early in the morning of Thursday, the 17th, after a night of distressing anxiety for every soul on board, the captain observed that the water was discolored, a fact which showed that he had drifted out of the Gulf Stream, and on throwing the lead at 5 o’clock the line showed but 25 fathoms and at 8 o’clock only 20. At one-hour intervals during the day the soundings varied from 20 to 17 fathoms until 8 o’clock p.m., when but 10 fathoms were found. “Then,” says the master, “I did not sound anymore. I knew that we were going ashore, and passed the word forward for all hands to prepare to save themselves.”

     This was very near the time when the observer of the Weather Bureau says the hurricane must have had a regular velocity of 100 miles an hour. Captain Springsteen says, “It was blowing a hurricane from the northeast, and the seas were running mountain high.” At 10 minutes past 9 p.m. the fatal moment arrived, and the vessel struck the bottom, lightly at first, and shipped a sea which smashed the cabin skylights, deluging all below. She did not touch again for something like 20 minutes, but then she struck with an awful shock, and thereafter continued to pound so heavily that the master sent the mate and second mate forward with orders to cut away the port rigging. The three masts instantly went by the board, falling to starboard, and the captain then ordered all hands on deck. The seas were not breaking over the hull with irresistible fury, and in a few moments Mrs. Springsteen, William Springsteen, the mate (also the captain’s son) and the ship’s boy, Fitzhugh Lee Goldsborough, were swept overboard, beyond the remotest possibility of aid. The boy Elmer, who was actually torn from his father’s arms, was in some way dashed back into the cabin, which was full of water, where his body was subsequently found.

     Fifteen or twenty minutes later, with a loud crash, the strong hull broke amidships into two parts, Fortunately all hands were congregated on one of these parts, where the stronger might encourage and perhaps assist the weaker or the wounded. This was the after portion, and it held together and continued to pound and drift about through a period of almost inconceivable terror lasting more than 5 hours. At length, about 4 o’clock in the morning of the 18th, Friday, it ceased to rise and fall, and the castaways then knew that they must be close in to shore; but weather was so thick, and the seas still continued to beat upon them with such violence, that they could not discern the land, and having no means of signaling could do no more than cling to their places and occasionally send up a cry of distress. 

     At 3 o’clock surfman Rasmus S. Midgett, of the Gull Shoal Station, set out on horseback to make the regular south patrol, and when he reached a point about three-fourths of a mile from the station he discovered buckets, barrels, boxes, and other articles coming ashore, which satisfied him that there was a wreck somewhere in the neighborhood. The surf was sweeping clear across the narrow strip or bank of sand which separates the ocean from Pamlico Sound, at times reaching to the saddle girths of his horse, and the night was so intensely dark that he could scarcely tell where he was going, but nevertheless he knew that the patrol must be made at all hazards, and besides, the rapidly multiplying evidence of disaster urged him on. When he had traveled a little more than 2 miles father he thought he detected the sound of voices and, pausing to listen, caught the outcries of the shipwrecked men. He could see nothing of them or of the wreck, but dismounting and proceeding toward the edge of the bank he soon made out a part of the vessel, with the forms of several persons crouching upon it, about a hundred yards distant.

     Here was a dilemma which called for the exercise of sound judgment and faultless courage. Midgett had consumed an hour and a half on his patrol before reaching the place, and to return to the station and bring back the life-saving crew was to sacrifice three hours more when every moment was precious. On the other hand, to undertake to save the lives of the shipwrecked men without aid was perhaps to throw away his own life and leave them utterly helpless until another patrol should be attempted, when all might have perished. Short time was spent in deliberation. He determined to do what he could alone and without delay.

     Selecting the first opportunity when a receding wave permitted, he ran down as close to the wreck as he could and shouted instructions for the men to jump overboard, one at a time, as the surf ran back, and that he would take care of them. Then retreating from the inrushing breakers to the higher part of the bank, he watched his chance to approach the wreck again, calling for one man to jump. Obeying his instructions a sailor would leap overboard and Midgett, in each instance, would seize him and drag him from the pursuing waves safe to the bank. In this manner, being compelled to venture closer and closer and more into danger, he rescued 7 men.

Priscilla Crewmen

     During all these laborious exertions he incurred much danger from the likely chance that on each occasion he and his burden might be caught by the breakers and swept out to sea. But now came far greater demands upon his courage and physical powers. There still remained upon the vessel three men so bruised and exhausted that they were unable to do as the others had done. But Midgett was not dismayed. To save these he must go right down into the sea close to the wreck, take them off and carry them bodily to the beach. Down the steep bank into the very jaws of death three times he descended and each time dragged away a helpless man and bore him up out of the angry waters to a place of safety. Ten lives saved were the priceless trophies of his valor. Seven of the men were still able to walk, and these he sent forward toward the station, while the other three he took to a safe place, and after giving his own coat to Captain Springsteen, rode on to summon the aid of his comrades.

Rasmus Midgett On the Wreck

     Keeper Pugh was on the beach when Midgett hove in sight, and upon hearing his amazing story ordered two of the surfmen to harness horses to their carts and proceed to bring up the disabled men. The other surfmen he directed to set up a stove in the sitting room and make a variety of thoughtful preparations for the welcome of the castaways. Imagination could hardly picture a more wretched company. When the vessel first encountered the breakers they were all sound men, well clad, with their clothing securely fastened about them; but the terrible buffeting they had sustained had stripped them almost naked, and their bodies were bruised, bleeding, and swollen, the sorriest cast, perhaps, being that of Captain Springsteen, who had received a ragged wound in the breast, inflicted by the almost deadly thrust of a rough piece of wreckage. As the poor fellows hobbled or were kindly borne with the hospitable walls of the station the surfmen quickly took them in hand, stripped off their fragments of apparel, washed their bodies, gently dressed their wounds, and then clothed them in dry undergarments and placed them quietly in comfortable beds. It was the end of a splendid day’s work, well worthy the admiration of the whole people, whose brave and single-hearted servants of humanity had performed it. Midgett, who bore the noblest part, was subsequently awarded a gold life-saving medal of honor by the Secretary of the Treasury, who transmitted with it a highly commendatory letter reciting the story of the brave man’s heroism.

SHIPWRECK LOG

Life-Saving Station: Gull Shoal; Dist. #6

Date of Disaster - August 17^th 1899
Name of Vessel - PriscillaRig and Tonnage - B.N.N. 600 ^12/100 tons
Hailing Port and Nationality - Baltimore, MD
Age - 13 years
Official Number - 150378
Name of Master - Benjamin E. Springsteen
Names of Owners - C. Morton Stewart & Co.
Where From - Baltimore, MD
Where bound - Rio Brazil
Number of crew, including Captain - Eleven
Number of passengers - three
Nature of cargo - general
Estimated value of vessel - 15,000 dollars
Estimated value of cargo - 45,000 dollars
Exact spot where wrecked - 3 miles South Gull Shoal LSS
Direction and distance from station - 3 miles South
Supposed cause of wreck (specifying particularly) - Blown ashore in harican [hurricane]
Nature of disaster, whether stranded, sunk, collision, etc. - Broken to pieces
Distance of vessel from shore at time of accident - Knot Known
Time of day or night - Between 9 p.m. & 4 a.m.
State of wind and weather - NE harican thick
State of tide and sea - verry high sea verry high tide
Time of discovery of wreck - 4:30 a.m..
By whom discovered - R.S. Midgett Sr.
Time of arrival of station crew at wreck - R.S. Midgett Saved Crew
Time of return of station crew from wreck - Reported about 5 a.m.
Was life-boat used? - No
Was surf-boat used? - No
Was life-raft used? - No
Was mortar, Lyle gun or rocket used? - No
Was heaving stick used? - No
Was life car used? - No
Was breeches-bouy used? - No
Number of lives saved, with names and residence - Capt. Benjamin E. Springsteen Baltimore, Wm. I. Henderson (cook) Baltimore, Frank A. Mason Baltimore, Samuel H. Cer? Baltimore, MD, John Evans Baltimore, MD, Olson van Nestraff? Philadelphia, Andrew Namson? Norway, Philip Hallet London, Eng, Barnard Robinson, Denmark & Karl Copenagen, Denmark
Number of lives lost, with names and residence - 1st Mate Wm. Springsteen Baltimore, Virginia Springsteen Baltimore, Elmer Springsteen Baltimore, Fitsulee Goldsborough VA
State fully the circumstances of the loss of each life - Cap^ts wife & first mate was washed overboard before wreck was seen from shore.
State damage, if any, to boat or apparatus - no
Was vessel saved or lost? - Lost
Estimated value of cargo saved, and its condition - $15,000 Dollars damaged
Estimated value of cargo lost - 30,000 Dollars
Amount of insurance on vessel - not known
Amount of insurance on cargo - not known
Number of persons sheltered at station, and how long - 9 for 3 days, Capt. for 14 days
Number of persons found after death and cared for - two
Remarks:
     R.S. Midgett Surfman No. 1 on South patrol from 3 a.m. to sunrise he found a wreck Broken to pieces 3 miles South of Station and on the stern was ten men he managed to save them all with out coming to Station to report after he got them on the beatch he got on his horse and come to station and reported at about 5 p.m.  I at once sent two of my crew with horses and carts to bring the Capt and two other men that was hurt badly the other seven walked to station they were all naked & badly bruised up after a very short time the men come north.  Capt and other two we gave whisky brandy & hot coffee dry clothes as best we could dressed the wounds and after a while gave them food.  The Capts wife washed up just South of Station about 6 a.m. in good condition.  I had her brought to Station cleaned up nicely & shrouded later in the day a young son of the Capt was found in cabbin of wreck and brought to Station and washed & dressed and laid out beside his mother's ____ ____.  on the next day I had boxes made and burried them.  the crew remained at Station three? day I ____.  I assisted Capt to send them to Elizabeth City, NC.  The Capt remained at Station untill Sept 1^st when he left for home in and improved condition in company with Capt. Rillbury? and Mr. John Stewart of Baltimore who come down to look after wreck & cargo whitch was sold at public Sale by wreck master.
Date of Report: Sept 8^th, 1899
     /s/ D.M. Pugh, Keeper

Fisherman & Farmer, August 25, 1899

Steamer Palestro ~ 9 August 1900

Annual Report of the Operations of the United States Life-Saving Service for the fiscal year ending June 30, 1901:

Stranded on Outer Diamond Shoal during thick weather at about 7 a.m. and was discovered by lookout at Cape Hatteras Station as soon as the weather cleared, about 2 p.m. Keeper sent word to Creeds Hill and Big Kinnakeet to assist, and then started for the wreck. On the way out the crew ran across two of the ship’s boats with 20 men on their way ashore. Keeper signaled the boat from Creeds Hill to take charge of these boats and then proceeded to the wreck to bring off the master, third officer, and three men who had remained by her. The second officer and four men, who had left in a small boat, landed without assistance about a mile from Cape Hatteras Station. The vessel was a hopeless wreck and the keeper brought ashore those who had remained by. The keeper of Creeds Hill Station towed the two boats in his charge to a safe landing place, and the crew from Big Kinnakeet Station arrived in time to transport all baggage to the Cape Hatteras Station. The shipwrecked crew of 30 men were sheltered at this station until the 11th, when they were transported to Norfolk by a schooner.

Newspaper Article:
New York Times, August 10, 1900

Schooner Three Friends ~ 9 February 1900

Annual Report of the Operations of the United States Life-Saving Service for the fiscal year-ending June 30, 1900:

Stranded at 10 p.m. on Royal Shoal, 8 miles NNW. from station. She was observed by station lookout early on the following morning and surfmen immediately pulled off to her in Monomoy surfboat. They took the crew of Three Friends into the surfboat, put their clothing and provisions into the schooner’s yawl, which they made fast to the stern of the surf boat, and then pulled back to station, towing the yawl. On the 11th station crew took the master off to the schooner, pumped her out, and ran out an anchor and hove a strain upon it. The master than went to Newbern to try to procure lighters. On the 15th surfmen tried to heave the schooner afloat, but were unsuccessful. On the 20th they boarded her again and found her full of water. At the request of the master they stripped her, putting the gear saved upon a schooner for transportation to Newbern. The hull was a total loss.

The lifesavers took the crew of three, along with their baggage and provisions, into the ship's yawl, and delivered all to the station: Captain A.T. Hopkins (owner); H.T. Wright of Laurel, Delaware; and Frank Swan of Baltimore, Maryland.

Steamer Virginia ~ 2 May 1900

Annual Report of the Operations of the United States Life-Saving Services for the fiscal year ending June 30, 1900:

Stranded during thick weather on Outer Diamond Shoal. A portion of the crew escaped to sea in the port longboat; 6 others perished by the swamping of their boat alongside the steamer, and the remaining 5 were rescued by the crews of Cape Hatteras and Creeds Hill stations as soon as the weather cleared enough for the wreck to be seen from the shore. (For detailed account see caption “Loss of Life.”)

Wreck of British Steamship Virginia

The fourth disaster of the year in the vicinity of Cape Hatteras, within the scope of the operations of the Life-Saving Service and attended by loss of life, was the wreck of the British steamship Virginia, which stranded and broke up at once on the Outer Diamond Shoals, Wednesday afternoon, May 2, 1900.

     The Virginia was a steel vessel of 2,314 tons burden, bound from Daiquiri, Cuba, to Baltimore, MD, with a cargo of iron ore, and was in charge of Captain Charles Samuels, of London, England. Her crew, all told, comprised 24 men, and there was also on board one stowaway.

     About 2 o’clock p.m. of the day of the wreck the captain, being aware that he was approaching the latitude of Cape Hatteras, caused the lead to be thrown, and finding no bottom at 50 fathoms changed his course to northwest by west and proceeded on his way. The wind was light from the northwest and the sea was rather rough, while the weather was hazy, resembling a fog, and consequently objects were not visible at any considerable distance. For three hours and a half after the lead was cast the steamer held her course, having neither seen nor heard anything to indicate danger, when suddenly the cry of “breakers ahead” came from the lookout on the bow. The wheel was instantly thrown hard a-port, and the ship promptly responded, soon having the broken water on her port beam, but a few moments later she grounded heavily.

     Captain Samuels had just returned to the deck from supper, and believing that the vessel had struck only “a lump,” he countermanded the order which had been given to reverse the engine and rang the bell “go ahead full speed.” The ship had not stopped when this signal was given, and just as the engines started ahead she took the bottom again, more severely than before, and from that moment she could not be moved from her bed in either direction. Her location at this time, as afterwards ascertained, was on the southeast point of the dreaded Outer Diamond Shoal, 9 nautical miles southeast by south from the Cape Hatteras Life-Saving Station and about the same distance east-southeast of the station at Creeds Hill. She immediately began to pound with great violence and to fill with water. The master knew pretty well where he was and, being aware of the slues and gullies between the shoals, feared that the steamer might slip into deep water and sink at once. Therefore he quickly ordered both anchors to be let go, and himself ran forward to superintend the operation, but before he could get back to the bridge he vessel broke in three pieces and sank to the rail, giving him barely time to leap for his life to the midship section. Without further ado he ordered the boats out and all hands to abandon ship. As the sequel proved, it would have been better otherwise, but the situation was alarming to the last degree and speedy action of some sort must have seemed imperative.

     The crew hastily attempted to launch the two starboard boats, but both were smashed to pieces—the large lifeboat in the water alongside, and the longboat at the davits. Then the men rushed to the port lifeboat, which was safely lowered away and manned by 15 persons, Second Mate Moore in charge. Mr. Moore states that it was his purpose to return to the ship and stand by the master, but that it was impossible to do so, and therefore he ordered the oarsmen to pull away straight out for the open sea. The port longboat was now put into the water with 7 men in it, but before it could be cleared from the ship’s side it was rolled over, and 6 of its occupants were quickly drowned. Mate Wyness, who was in charge, was hauled back on board the steamer by means of a bowline thrown to him by one of the four men who still remained on the wreck, but had intended to go in the boat.

     There were now 5 on board, and, as then seemed to them, in far worse plight than the boat’s crew who had pushed out aimlessly and unprovisioned into the ocean—hardly more fortunate than their shipmates who had already perished. The steamer’s hull was awash, and there was no better place of refuge than the main rigging, to which the survivors speedily betook themselves. All about them was the impenetrable haze or fog, while their eyes rested upon a most disheartening scene below. From the forecastle all the way to the stern the hull was submerged, except that the forecastle head stood 8 or 10 feet out of water. The vessel was broken into three pieces, and through the rents in its jagged sides the water hissed and foamed, and at intervals spouted upward in great volumes 15 or 20 feet high. Save the bit of the forecastle head, nothing showed above the sea but the two masts, the bridge and funnel, and a few feet of a flagstaff far aft. All this dreadful havoc had been wrought in little more than 30 minutes.

     The survivors now turned their thoughts to some means of making a signal of distress. Night was close at hand, and they knew that they could not be discovered from the shore before morning, even if the weather should clear up, unless they could burn some sort of a night signal. They were aware that there were inflammable materials away forward in the forecastle head, but the sea was so high that nobody could go to the place even if when there the materials should be accessible. All they could do was hold to their perilous places and almost despairingly hope that in some way relief might come, and thus they passed the tedious hours of the night. When morning broke they cast their eyes forward to the bridge, which was still above water, and believing that if they could reach it their safety would not be less, while they would have space to stretch their cramped limbs and move about, they determined to make the attempt. The plan devised was to rig a sort of boatswain’s hair on the mainstay by which they could slide down and lower themselves to the bridge—a contrivance similar to the  breeches buoy apparatus. This they succeeded in accomplishing with less difficulty than might be imagined, and all passed down without trouble except the captain, who was the last to make the venture, and was for some minutes suspended in mid-air by the fouling of the gear. Finally there proved to be no recourse but to cut the halyards, which was done, letting the “chair” slide down with great velocity some 35 or 40 feet. The captain was considerably bruised in making the passage, but all hands being at last where they could exercise themselves a bit, their spirits were somewhat revived.

     Although it was now broad daylight, they could perceive no signs of land, and therefore knew that unless the hazy condition of the atmosphere should pass away they could not be seen, and would be obliged to endure another night on board the wreck. The master still had it in his mind to make the first possibly feasible effort to reach the oil and turpentine stored in the forecastle head, and as the forenoon wore on and the tide fell he concluded that as favorable an opportunity as they should ever have had arrived. Therefore, at very great personal danger, he jumped from the bridge and swam forward with all his power, beset by a strong current and with sea continually breaking across the forewaist. However, he reached the goal, and encouraged by his success the chief mate followed. By the aid of a line thrown by the master he succeeded also, and together the two men explored the dark repository of the treasure upon which their lives seemed wholly to depend.

     Throughout the entire day the haze continued, but when night came on the two officers eagerly set fire to their signal. In the meantime, however, the tide had risen, as well as the wind and sea, so that only with the greatest difficulty could the blaze be kept up, being often entirely extinguished by the waves that broke over the wreck. Frequent heavy showers also conspired with the sea to thwart the purpose of the careworn men, but nevertheless they kept their pitiful signal burning at every possible favorable interval during the night. Altogether they had used up by the time day dawned 30 gallons of oil and turpentine, although much of it, priceless as it was to them, was wasted by the action of the ruthless sea.

     Two nights and one day had now passed without food, and under such a tension of excitement and apprehension as to seriously impair the resources of the strongest and bravest of men, and it was doubtful whether they could hold out much longer. But fortunately, although they did not know it, their forlorn signal had been seen by some of the crews of both life-saving stations, and also the Hatteras Station had responded with a red rocket, which, however, proved not to have been visible on the wreck. Indeed the light shown on the wreck was so dim at the stations that the keepers were by no means sure of its import. Lights are often seen in the vicinity of the shoals, borne sometimes upon vessels which, during the summer, often pass through the slues between the Inner and Outer Diamonds, and also upon fishing vessels which frequently anchor under the lee of shoals.

     Nevertheless keeper Etheridge was suspicious of trouble, and at daylight turned his telescope toward the point where the signal had been seen. The weather was still a little thick, but at 7 a.m. it lighted up, and the telescope then revealed the funnel and masts of the wreck. Etheridge then knew all. His many years’ experience told him well enough what his eyes could not see. He quickly ordered out the Monomoy surfboat, called up keeper Styron, of Creeds Hill Station, and requested him to start at once for the Outer Diamond, as the Hatteras crew were about to do. The boats of both stations got away at about the same time, and as soon as they cleared the beach made sail. The wind was now blowing a gale from the northward, and the sea was running high, but there was no faint heart among the life-savers, although they knew full well the peril of their undertaking. By 9 o’clock the 5 wretched men on the wreck made out the gleaming sails of the two surfboats, but they could scarcely believe their own eyes, for they had little confidence that any men would venture out to the Diamond Shoals in such weather as then prevailed. But there were the lifeboats—help was coming at last. For forty-two hours the poor fellows had endured hunger and thirst, and contemplated without sign of weakness almost certain death, but now that deliverance was at hand they gave way to tears—the brave man’s last tribute to joy as well as to sorrow.

     The Creeds Hill boat arrived first at a point withon about a quarter of a mile

     The fact that the shipwrecked men were not relieved for a period of 42 hours would seem, in view of the testimony as above narrated, to need n comment in the way of explanation. To have attempted such a feat during the second night, when the uncertain light was seen which raised a bare suspicion of a disaster, would have been, as one of the most competent witnesses declares, simply foolhardy, and without justification of the dangers involved. Until morning, when the telescope revealed the unmistakable evidences of a wreck, no time was lost that would have in any way hastened relief, and after the wreck was made out not a moment was wasted in reaching her and taking off the survivors. It is a clear case of extremely creditable work.

     Had the entire ship’s company remained on board none would have perished. Happily the 15 men who put to sea in the port lifeboat were sighted and picked up 24 hours after they went afloat by the steamer El Paso, bound from New York to New Orleans, where they were landed and properly cared for by the British consul. When taken on board the El Paso they had been without food or water for 24 hours, and were nearly worn out by constant bailing of the leaking boat and their arduous labor at the oars. The 6 men who perished were First Engineer T.S. Wally, Steward S. Peck, Seamen Cook and Olsen, and Fireman Hoolman and Wegan.

     The following letter was handed to the keeper of the Hatteras Station by Captain Samuels.

CAPE HATTERAS LIFE-SAVING STATION, May 5, 1900

We, the survivors of the British steamship Virginia, wish to express our gratitude to the crews of the Cape Hatteras and Creeds Hill Life-Saving Stations for rescuing us under most dangerous circumstances to themselves. The vessel was nearly awash, being broken into three pieces, and her jagged sides made it dangerous for the boats to approach in such a heavy sea as was running at the time of our rescue. We were nearly exhausted, having been exposed for forty-two hours without subsistence, and can not thank the life-saving crews sufficiently for their bravery in boarding the vessel. Since our rescue we have been treated most kindly, and clothed. At the time of the casualty, 6 p.m. of the 2d instant, the state of the weather rendered it impossible for the ship to be sighted. On the 3d instant the haze that settled over the shoals rendered it equally impossible to sight the ship, as I have discovered since being ashore; the night being clear my distress signals, which gave a flame of fully 6 feet, was sighted at 9 p.m. On the 4th the ship was sighted at 7.30 a.m., and we on the wreck saw the lifeboats at 10.30 and were rescued at 11.30 a.m. CHARLES SAMUELS, Master ; THOS. A. WYNESS, First Officer ; ARTHUR SIMMONDS, Second Engineer ; GEO. MICTEBLER, Third Engineer ; MARTIN RASMUSIN, Seaman