Schooner Elm City ~ 25 March 1912

On voyage from Norfolk, VA to Charleston, SC with a cargo of coal, the American wooden 3-masted schooner Elm City was abandoned at Little Kinnakeet, north of Cape Hatteras.

The Onandaga on March 27 completed the destruction of the three-masted schooner, of New Haven, was found sunk to the cross-trees. The masts were removed to the heels, the wire rigging was cut and dropped to the bottom, leaving from nine to twelve fathoms over the hull. This vessel had previously been reported by several steamers as well as the life-savers at Little Kinnakeet. The life-savers saw the vessel sink on Monday morning last and were the first to report it to the commanding officer of the Onandaga. When found, all head halyards were taut, fore sail down and sail reefed on main and mizzen. The mastheads were painted white and the doublings yellow, and from appearance of blocks and spars it was an old vessel. Nothing has been heard from the crew.

Schooner Harry Prescott ~ 18 January 1912

Annual Report of the Operations of the United States Life-Saving Service for the fiscall year ending June 30, 1912:

On the night of this date occurred one of the most serious and important wrecks of the year when the 433-ton schooner Harry Prescott, from New York for Wilmington, NC, with a cargo of salt, mistook Hatteras Light for the Diamond Shoals Lightship, got off her course, and stranded in the vicinity of the Inner Diamond Shoals.

     The vessel struck 2 miles south of the Cape Hatteras Life Saving Station and a mile from the shore. Her lights were discovered about 9.30 p.m. by the beach patrol from the station named. As there was a strong southwest wind blowing and a high sea, the crews of three stations—Cape Hatteras, Big Kinnakeet, and Creeds Hill—assembled on the north side of the cape in the hope that a boat might be launched under the protection of the land. After a conference of the station keepers on the beach it was decided that there should be small chance of going alongside the vessel in the darkness, even if a rescuing boat’s crew should succeed in making the trip to her. They therefore concluded to wait for daylight.

     At 5.30 a.m. of the 19th, although dawn brought no improvement in wind and sea, the power surfboat from the Cape Hatteras station, which had been hauled to the beach during the night, put off from the shore.

     The life saving crew found the schooner hard and fast on the windward side of the shoals, her hull practically under water, and the seas breaking high over such portions as were still exposed. Three of her crew of 7 men were in the mizzen rigging and four were astride the flying jib boom. Finding, after several attempts, that it would be impossible to get nearer to the vessel than 50 yards, the boat’s crew dropped anchor to windward and drifted down toward her, using engine and oars to keep in proper position and avoid being swamped. When they had come as close to her as they dared venture a heaving stick, thrown by a surfman, carried a line within reach of the sailors aloft. Each of the three, in turn, as the line was thrown, tied it about his body, cast himself into the sea, and was hauled into the surfboat.

     The life savers next turned their attention to the men on the jib boom, and for fully 6 hours maneuvered to get near enough to repeat the line-throwing performance. Finally, becoming convinced that the rescue could not be concluded until wind and sea should moderate, and their boat, moreover, having been seriously damaged by contact with floating wreckage, the rescuers put back to the shore.

     In the evening the wind shifted to the northeast, cutting down the sea appreciably and checking the current. To have ventured in the darkness near a submerged wreck lying in the broken waters of the shoals would have been little short of madness, however. The life saving crews therefore passed the night on the beach. At dawn of the 20th the Cape Hatteras crew again launched their boat. Arriving at the vessel, they found the crew of the Creeds Hill station standing by watching for a favorable opportunity to take the sailors off, all four of whom were still on the jib-boom. The chance soon came, and the boat from Cape Hatteras, being under power, ran in near the wreck and completed the work undertaken the day before, using heaving stick and line as in the first instance.

     In his official report of this rescue the commanding officer of the revenue cutter Itasca, Capt. John G. Berry, who arrived on the scene on the night of the 19th, says:

     "The rescue was accomplished with thoroughness and as rapidly as the terribly adverse conditions would permit. It is almost incredible that those four men could have remained for 24 hours on that wreck, washed in the breakers and clinging to a spar, but they did it and do not appear to have suffered any material injury."

Newspaper Article:
New York Times, January 21, 1912

Schooner John Maxwell ~ 2 November 1912

Annual Report of the Operations of the United States Life-Saving Service for the fiscal year ending June 30, 1913:

The wreck of the schooner John Maxwell in the early morning of November 2, 1912, three-fourths of a mile southeast of the New Inlet Life Saving Station, coast of North Carolina, furnished the most serious casualty of any that occurred upon our eastern seaboard during the year within the scope of operations of the service.

     When overtaken by disaster the Maxwell, a 532-ton vessel, carrying a crew of 7 men, was on her way from Norfolk, VA, to Savannah, GA, with a cargo of coal. Capt. Fred Godfrey, her master and the only survivor, states in his testimony, given at the official investigation of the wreck, that the weather previous to the time of the stranding had been thick and rainy, and that when the vessel struck the wind was blowing about 20 miles an hour and rapidly increasing, with a rising sea. Asked as to the cause of the disaster, he declared it to have been the fault of the mate in not obeying his orders to get a cast of the lead. As all hands except the master perished his charge of disobedience made against his first officer must stand unsupported and unchallenged.

     According to Capt. Godfrey’s story of events aboard ship the above-mentioned dereliction of the mate was not the only shortcoming on the part of the latter that brought disaster upon his shipmates. The schooner had scarcely grounded before he and four of the crew, in defiance of Capt. Godfrey, abandoned her in the ship’s boat, leaving only the cook to keep the captain company. What befell the 5 men after the boat struck the water and the darkness that swallowed them up will never be known, for none of them was afterwards seen alive. Had the mate obeyed his superior officer in the second instance he might in a measure have made amends for his fatal disregard of instructions given earlier, as the master expresses the belief that, with all ands assisting, the line that was finally laid across the schooner from the beach could have been hauled out and the breeches buoy apparatus set up, thereby making possible the rescue of the entire company.

     Following the desertion of the 5 sailors, Capt. Godfrey and the cook (named Alexander Tillman) climbed into the mizzen rigging. A few moments later, namely at 3.10 a.m., the vessel was discovered by surfman P.L. O’Neal making the patrol south of the New Inlet Life Saving Station. Half an hour later the crew of the New Inlet Station (P.H. Etheridge, keeper) was abreast of the schooner with their beach apparatus. The Chicamacomico and Gull Shoal crews were soon also upon the scene, each with a surfboat, news of the stranding having been communicated to them by telephone from the station first named.

     When the New Inlet crew appeared the Maxwell lay approximately 350 yards off the beach, wind, sea, and current having worked her some distance farther in from the spot where she first struck. Keeper Etheridge at once began operations looking to a rescue by firing a No. 7 line across the forward part of the vessel. The shot proved ineffective, however. The line fouled at the shore end and broke, and the projectile carried it away. The second shot, carrying a No. 9 line, was equally well aimed, but the life savers hauled it back to the shore without feeling any answering pull from the schooner. Still a third line (a No. 9) was sent off with no better result. As it was apparent from the efforts made that nothing could be accomplished with the beach apparatus, owing to the distance to the schooner, the strong set of current southward, and the lack of cooperation aboard ship, the three station keepers decided that it would be best to discontinue operations until daylight, when it was hoped a rescue might be effected by boat.

     The wind, blowing strong when the schooner stranded, had become a full gale by dawn. The sea, also, which had risen during the latter part of the night, had become very rough. Giant waves were leaping clear over the schooner, while between her and the shore the water was a turmoil of furiously racing whitecaps. When it was sufficiently light to get a good view of the vessel, the two men on board were for the first time observed in the mizzen rigging. A shot now fired from the shore put a line within reach of them. They got hold of it and endeavored to haul off the whip, but, exhausted as they were by their long vigil, and their movements being circumscribed, moreover, by their position, their combined strength was not sufficient to overcome the united force of sea and current tugging at the line between the schooner and the shore. When it appeared that they could do nothing with the line, the life savers hauled it taut and bent on two cork lifebelts, it being plainly seen that they were without such protection. The line was cut on the beach and a signal made to the imperiled men to haul away. But the current again defeated their efforts—they could not drag even the belts through the water.

     As the work so far performed held no promise of ultimate success the life savers now turned to their boat. Eight oarsmen, picked from the three crews, were chosen for the venture, with keepers Etheridge and J.A. Midgett (the latter of the Gull Shoal Station) to handle the steering oar. It required the efforts of every keeper and surfman on the beach, supplemented by the assistance of a number of spectators, to get the boat into the water and stated on its way.

     Recourse to the surfboat, however, like the efforts previously made with the line, was doomed to fail. The craft safely passed the inshore breakers with fair speed, but 100 yards from the wreck it encountered the powerful current previously referred to, and its progress was precipitately stopped. So far as getting ahead was concerned the strength of the seasoned men at the oars might as well have been exerted against a stone wall. Referring to the efforts of the boat’s crew to proceed, keeper Etheridge testifies that in all his experience as a life saver, covering a period of 26 years, he never saw the tide running stronger. Perceiving, after a determined attempt to get on, the utter impossibility of reaching the ship, keeper Etheridge, who was in command of the crew, passed the word to the oarsman to run for the shore. A landing was made 500 yards leeward of the place where they had launched.

     On getting back to the beach keeper Etheridge shot another line over the wreck. The sailors secured it and fastened it to the mast. In a few moments Tillman grasped it and swung from his position with the evident intention of trying to make shore. He succeeded in working his way along the line a distance of perhaps 20 feet when he lost his hold and fell into the water. After making a desperate effort to regain the vessel he sank.

     During the forenoon of the 2d, with the force of the gale rapidly increasing and the sea steadily growing rougher, the schooner began to break up. The service crews had reached the end of their resources, however, ad could do nothing but look helplessly on in momentary expectation of seeing the single remaining survivor go down with the swaying mast. They stood thus impotently by watching the closing scenes of the tragedy throughout the afternoon of the 2d and a part of the night. The end came shortly after midnight. By the aid of two searchlights that played upon the wreck from a revenue cutter and a warship standing by offshore they saw the schooner riven apart and were able to follow the movements of the man up aloft as he lowered himself to the deck and made his last stand at the vessel’s stern. They were soon to learn, however, that the good fortune which had permitted the master to live long enough to witness the death throes of his ship was destined to attend him throughout the still darker moments to come, in the fight for his life amidst wreckage and overwhelming seas, and finally to see him safely ashore.

     When the dismemberment of the vessel took place the master found himself on a fragment of the schooner’s stern. He still had enough strength left to cling to his unstable support and enough voice to halloo. His shouts, faintly carrying to the wearied men on the beach, gave them renewed energy and put them on the alert. The part of the broken hull that supported him was providentially borne by the swift tidal current in toward the land. When it came within throwing distance one of the watchers waded down into the surf and cast a line to the man, shouting to him to tie it around his body. He did as directed and was soon hauled ashore.

     Capt. Godfrey was cared for at the New Inlet Station, until fully recovered from his terrible experience. A letter from him expressing his appreciation of the services of his rescuers may be found under “Letters of acknowledgment.” In said letter he expresses the opinion that his crew also would have been saved had they remained by the ship and assisted in the work of hauling off the lines dent out by the life saving crews.

     As previously indicated, a revenue cutter (the Onandaga) and a naval vessel, standing by the wreck outside during the night of November 2, threw their searchlights on the schooner. Capt. Godfrey was of the opinion that the illumination thus afforded actually saved his life, as it enabled him to change position in time to keep him from going overboard with the mast.

NEW INLET LIFE-SAVING STATION, N.C., November 4, 1912

MY DEAR SIR: I wish to express my appreciation of the efforts of the crews of the New Inlet, Chicamacomico and Gull Shoal Life-Saving Stations in saving me from the wreck of the schooner John Maxwell on the 2d instant. If my crew had not deserted me in the yawl boat, I think we would all have been saved. I got the line the life-savers shot out to me, but on account of the strong current I could not haul it off alone. I wish also to express my thanks for the kind treatment I received from the captain of the New Inlet Station during the time I remained. J.D. LLOYD, Captain, Schooner John Maxwell

HOTEL ST. GEORGE, Brooklyn, N.Y., November 8,1912

DEAR SIR: Although I was not present while the John Maxwell, wrecked on he 2d instant, was breaking up and while Capt. Godfrey was on the wreck, I arrived there so soon afterward that I am very well acquainted with the conditions you faced and overcame. I have seen quite a number of wrecks on the Cape Cod coast, and I could see that you faced practically the same difficulties and dangers that are so often encountered there. It is true that you and Captains L.B. and John A. Midgett, of the Chicamacomico and Gull Shoal Stations, were able to save but one an from the wreck, but I know that no set of men without powerful power boats could have done more than you and your associates did. Please give my compliments to the two other captains and their men. If any of you are ever in New York I would be glad to have you look me up so that I may tell you in person how much I admire your conduct. Sincerely yours, J.D. LLOYD

Newspaper Article:
New York Times, November 3, 1912

Steamer Madeleine & Tug Margaret ~ 12 January 1912

NORTH CAROLINA MARITIME MUSEUM

Beaufort, NC

www.ncmaritimemuseum.org

On this day in 1912 the Raleigh Daily Times reported that the steamer Madeleine and tug Margaret were lost SE Of Cape Lookout Shoals. The crew of the steamer was rescued but the tug captain and crew from one of the barges being towed were lost.

Schooner Savannah ~ 27 December 1912

Annual Report of the Operations of the United States Life-Saving Service for the fiscal year ending June 30, 1913:

The 584-ton, 4-masted schooner Savannah, bound from Jacksonville, FL, to Portland, ME, with a cargo of pine lumber, and carrying a crew of 9 men all told, stranded about noon of this date on the western edge of Frying Pan Shoals, coast of North Carolina, in a westerly gale and thick weather. Vessel and cargo, valued, together, at almost $40,000, were totally lost. The ship’s crew, however, were saved by the crew of the Cape Fear and Oak Island Stations.

     As the schooner lay on the shoals, with the mountainous seas smashing against and over her, she was discovered by keeper Brinkman of the station first named. To make sure that she was aground the keeper climbed the Cape Fear light tower to get a look at her through a spyglass. On leaving the tower he asked the light keeper to set a signal, which, according to a previous understanding, would convey to the station crew at Oak Island and to the revenue cutter Seminole the information that a vessel was in trouble offshore.

     The Cape Fear crew put off the beach in their surfboat without loss of time, and covered the 8 miles to the schooner in two and a half hours. The Oak Island crew also appeared about the same time in their power lifeboat. It was agreed that keeper Brinkman should undertake the work of the rescue, a boat under oars being more readily and safely handled than a power boat in broken water about a wreck. This arrangement was duly carried out, the Oak Island crew standing by, ready to assist their comrades should the surfboat meet with misfortune while alongside. “After a hard battle with wind and sea,” says keeper Brinkman in his report, “we took the captain and eight men off.”

     The ship’s crew were cared for at the Oak Island Station until the following morning, when they were placed aboard the Seminole, which had appeared off the station during the night. The cutter and two tugs attempted to float the schooner, but without success.

Schooner Savannah (Inset: Capt. W. N. Gould)