Trawler Anna May ~ 9 December 1931

The Anna May headed out of Hatteras Inlet at 2:30 a.m. the morning of December 9, 1931. She was loaded with fish and headed for Hampton, VA. Captain of the 70-foot trawler was 22 year old Ralph Carmine. His crew consisted of his father, J.E. Carmine, Sr.; a brother, J.E. Carmine, Jr.; his brother-in-law, Rideout Lewis; and a man named M.R. Johnson.

     Long before they passed out of Hatteras Bight the trawler’s gasoline engine stopped and for the next hour and a half the crewmen took turns at trying to remedy the problem, while the Anna May drifted slowly toward Diamond Shoals. Captain Carmine recalled that all 5 men were bent over the engine box when the vessel lurched to a stop and they looked up to find themselves in the midst of towering breakers. Their vessel swamped, filled with water and settled on the shoal, leaving only her single mast above the breakers. All five crewmen—thinly clad and without distress signals and life jackets—clung to the swaying mast in the darkness above the wild surf of Diamond Shoals.

     Soon after dawn the next morning, the Cape Hatteras lookout station sighted the trawler’s mast and the men hanging to it. Repeated attempts were made to launch a surfboat from the beach, but it was thrown back each time. At two o’clock that afternoon a mist settled over the shoals, completely obscuring what remained of the craft. By then the power lifeboat from the Hatteras station had finally managed to pass through the inshore breakers but on reaching the shoals found no trace of the trawler. Newspaper headlines the following day reported: “Fishing Trawler Is Believed Lost In Hatteras Quicksands, Entire Crew Going to Deaths.”

     As the sky brightened the next morning, Coast Guard binoculars were trained on the spot where the wreck had last been seen. A vague shape slowly came into view of a tall thin pole sticking up out of the breakers. The mast still stood and men still clung to it.

     A picked crew under Keeper B.R. Balance of Cape Hatteras launched a surfboat from the beach there at the point. The crew of Hatteras Inlet Station, under Keeper Levene Midgett, boarded their power boat once more and moved out through the inlet. Meanwhile, after 30 hours on the constantly swaying mast, Captain Carmine and his four crewmen had about given up hope. Soaked to the skin, nearly frozen by the December cold, they began that second day with little thought of being saved when suddenly two boats appeared nearby. As they shouted and waved in an attempt to attract attention the mast swayed far over to one side and dipped lower and lower until it toppled into the surf. Without hesitation both Balance and Midgett turned their boats toward the breakers and pressed on into the midst of the tumultuous sea.

     “We came down once between two giant waves, striking the bare sand,” Midgett said. But this did not deter the surfmen: Midgett’s boat, larger and faster, swept in, picked up one man, then a second, finally a third; Balance’s surfboat was right beside, reached the other two, turned about even as they were dragged aboard; and all five crewmen were saved.

Schooner Elizabeth T. Doyle ~ July 30, 1918

The Evening Sun, Baltimore, Aug. 23, 1918

Gasoline Yacht Idler ~ 24 January 1915

Annual Report of the Operations of the United States Life-Saving Service for the fiscal year ending June 20 1915:

A schooner yacht, supposed to be the Idler, struck on Diamond Shoals, off Hatteras, on January 24th. The win revenue cutter could approach the wreck. She broke up rapidly and all on board were lost. Wind was northeast and the seas were so heavy that neither life-savers nor revenue cutter could approach the wreck. She broke up rapidly and all on board were lost.

The Idler was a composite schooner, 85 ft. L.W.L., 117 ft. 6 in. L.O.A., 22 ft. 6 in. beam, and 13 ft. 9 in. draught. She was designed by Tams, Lemoine and Crane and build by Lawley in 1901. She was commanded by Capt. Robert II. Harding of No. 77.

Extract from Report on the Idler

“A small vessel, schooner rigged and having the general appearance of a yacht, was sighted at 9.30 a.m., January 24th, by the surf man on day watch in the lookout tower of the Cape Hatteras Station, in the breakers on the Inner Diamond Shoals, about four or five miles off shore. The vessel was under reduced sail, reefed foresail, mainsail close reefer and one headsail. There was no sign of life on board, nor was any signal of distress discernible. She was rolling deeply and laboring heavily, and the seas breaking completely over her. The vessel was at once reported to the keeper, who immediately went to the lookout and verified the condition mentioned, then had notice given by telephone to the crews of the two adjacent stations, and proceeded with his crew to launch the power surf-boat in the bight of Hatteras cove as the only available means of rendering any possible assistance to the vessel so far off shore. The launching of the boat was found impossible after repeated trials, even with the assistance of the crew from the Creeds Hill station, which had arrived to assist in the attempts.

“This condition, it was found, prevailed for three days following, similar attempts to launch being made each day. The place selected for launching the boat afforded the only lee, though slight, from the northerly sea and wind.

“With the wind during the night before blowing strong from the southeast and shifting during the early morning of the 24th to the northeast, both winds making up a high sea, it is evident that the vessel encountered on Diamond Shoals a turbulent mass of huge, smothering breakers, extending for miles, the heavy, breaking, old sea opposing the new. Also these conditions produced surf too high to permit the slightest chance of launching a boat of any description from the beach on either side of the Cape. There is little wonder that the yacht broke up and sank a few hours after it was sighted.

“Had it been possible to launch a boat from the beach, the great extent of heavy breakers, opposing seas, and well-known treacherous cross currents of great velocity in the vicinity of the shoals would have rendered it quite impossible to have approached within several miles of where the vessel was first seen or foundered.

“In my opinion, a vessel of such small size, of yacht design, swept by such irresistible breakers must have swamped very soon and all hands drowned forthwith. Taking to the rigging would afford little safety, and any person on deck must soon have been swept off and immediately beaten under and drowned. A small boat or life raft would have been of no avail.”

Some days after the vessel broke up, blankets and articles were washed ashore from the wreck identifying the vessel as the Idler. 12 people were killed. Later an unidentified body came ashore.

Schooner Isaac L. Clark ~ 17 December 1884

Annual Report of the Operations of the United States Life-Saving Service for the fiscal year ending June 30, 1885:

At about half-past 4 in the afternoon, during prevalence of a fresh southwesterly breeze, with a rough and dangerous sea, the lookout at the Big Kinnakeet Station (6th District), North Carolina, discovered a vessel’s yawl, with several men in it, about three miles seaward, making for the land. The life saving crew at once launched their surf boat and put off, reaching the yawl at half-past 5. There were 7 men in it, the crew of the three-masted schooner Isaac L. Clark, of Camden, NJ, which had been totally wrecked at noon that day on the outer edge of Diamond Shoal, off Cape Hatteras, about 10 miles to the southward, while on her way from Florida port to Philadelphia, PA with a cargo of lumber. The men were safely landed, with their boat, and taken to the station, where they were sheltered and fed for 5 days, or until transportation could be provided to their homes.

Steamer Kensington ~ 27 January 1871

On January 27, 1871, the bark Templar and the steamer Kensington were involved in a collision 60 miles N.E. of Diamond Shoals. The World Almanac lists this as one of the worst maritime disasters in history and claims 150 lives were lost. But the plain facts are that no one was lost on either vessel, though the Kensington did go to the bottom.

     The Kensington, with a crew of 30 and 18 passengers, left Savannah for Boston on January 25th carrying a full cargo of cotton, rice and lumber. Meanwhile, the Templar sailed from Hampton Roads on the 27th, bound for Rio de Janiero. About 7:30 that evening, while tacking to eastward, Captain Wilson of the Templar made out a steamer on his starboard beam. “Saw her mast head and red light plain,” the Captain said, “and supposing that the steamer would pass under our stern we held our course to eastward. Finding then that the steamer did not alter her course, several of the crew hailed her as loud as they could. No attention was paid to the hail, the steamer holding her course.”

     Realizing the steamer would cut his own craft in two, Captain Wilson ordered his wheel hard over. Slowly the bark turned aside as the steamer passed under her bow taking away the “bowsprit, jibboom, fore and main topgallants, foretopmast, and all attached.” A moment later the Templar crashed into the side of the Kensington.

     A sailor, who at the time of the collision was perched in the forward rigging of the Templar, was thrown to the deck of the Kensington. The two vessels then drifted apart and, since Captain Wilson claimed he “heard no sound or indication from the steamer, of distress,” he quickly sounded his pumps and ordered the debris cleared away from his vessel. Meanwhile, the sailor who had fallen from the bark to the deck of the steamer found all confusion there. The Kensington, with a large hole in her side, was filling with water and the crewmen were in the process of lowering away her boats. The sea being comparatively calm, this was accomplished quickly, and the 30 members of the steamer’s crew, the 18 passengers, and the sailor from the Templar managed to row clear before the vessel sank.

     They were picked up late the next morning—15 hours after the collision—by the steamer Georgia, which transported them to Charleston. Details of the disaster, including a statement that the Templar and her crew were presumed lost, were printed in newspapers there and sent by telegraph to other parts of the country. Two days later, however, the steamer Yazoo, en route from Havana to Philadelphia, sighted the Templar off the Virginia Capes, partly filled with water and moving slowly northward under improvised sails. The Yazoo took the bark in tow, reaching Norfolk the following day. The vessel was subsequently repaired and made ready for sea duty again.

     The above facts were gleaned from interviews with the Captain of the Templar, the passengers and crewmen of the Kensington and the crews of the Georgia and Yazoo, as published in contemporary newspaper accounts. It’s definitely stated in several of those articles that there were 48 persons aboard the Kensington and that all were saved; in none of them is there mention of a single life being lost on the Templar, thus completely refuting the published reports in more recent times that 150 lives were lost in the “one of the worst maritime disaster in history.”

L. & D. Fisk ~ November 24, 1880

"Struck on Diamond Shoals 8:30 of the 23d inst. and went to pieces at 3:30 p.m. on the 24th. Out of a crew of 7 men, 6 were lost. The vessel stranded about 9 miles east of the cape point. Owing to this and the thick weather the vessel was not discovered or its fate known, until the appearance of the one survivor." (Report of the Chief Signal Officer of the Army, Fiscal Year Ending June 1, 1881.)

Chicago Tribune, Nov. 27, 1880

Schooner Lena Breed ~ 4 December 1888

Annual Report of the Operations of the United States Life-Saving Service for the fiscal year ending June 30, 1889:

On the 4th the day watch at the Cape Hatteras Station (6th District), North Carolina, observed schooner standing in for the outer slue. A short time afterward, the sea being smooth on the shoals, the vessel got out of the channel and stranded at half-past 1 o’clock on the Diamond Shoal about 6 miles south-southeast from the station. The surf men made all possible haste in getting out the surfboat, employed a team to draw it to the beach opposite the schooner, launched, and went out to her. She proved to be the Lena Breed, of Philadelphia, PA, with a cargo of yellow pine from Wilmington, NC, bound to her home port. Taking the crew of 7 men into the boat, the life savers set out for the beach. They had not gone far when they were met by the surf boat from the Creed’s Hill Station, (adjacent to the southward) the life saving crew at that point having noted the disaster and set out at once for the place, a pull of more than 7 miles. The Cape Hatteras surf boat being heavily loaded, two of the sailors were transferred to the other. The Creed’s Hill men rendered further aid by taking a line and towing the surf boat of the Hatteras crew inshore as far as the bar. The keeper of the next station north, Big Kinnakeet, having also started to the assistance of the stranded vessel, arrived just in time to help the men ashore. They were conducted to the Cape Hatteras Station. On the next day (5th) the surf men again boarded the craft and saved clothing, ship stores and other articles. They found the vessel in bad condition. Her crew left the station on the 6th, and on the same day, the wind blowing fresh from the westward, she was dislodged and driven to sea, becoming a total loss.

Schooner Maurice R. Thurlow / 13 October 1827

During a storm on October 13 the Maurice R. Thurlow grounded on Diamond Shoals about 10 miles NE of the Ocracoke Island Station. The crew from the Cape Hatteras Station answered the distress signal and saved the crew of 9. The next morning the Thurlow had vanished. Usually when a vessel washes off Diamond Shoals they find a resting place on the Ocracoke Beach. The Coast Guard Cutter Mascoutin from Norfolk searched for the vessel but to no avail. Almost two weeks later a Dutch oil tanker sighted the Thurlow in the North Atlantic. The Coast Guard renewed it's search, but again failed to locate the vessel, which had become known as The Phantom Ship.

The Evening Independent

St. Petersburg, Florida ~ Friday, October 28, 1927

OCEAN DERELICT SAILS ATLANTIC

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LUMBER SCHOONER, THOUGHT LOST SIGHTED

UNDER FULL SAIL, CREWLESS

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Washington, Oct. 28.—(UP)—Crewless and with her sails bellied full, a derelict schooner is playing hide and seek with trans-Atlantic shipping and a full fleet of pursuing coast guard cutters.

     The “Flying Dutchman” of the North Atlantic, the abandoned Maurice Thurlow, with a valuable lumber cargo aboard, has eluded searchers since she went on the Diamond shoals off the (Virginia) coast and then slipped away 10 days ago.

     Yesterday the steamer Slidrecht wirelessed coast guard headquarters that it passed the phantom ship about 100 miles east of Nautucket, fully 600 miles from where it was lost.

     It was sailing along serenely “without a helmsman at the wheel or any sign of life aboard,” the Slidrecht reported. “The sails were full and the schooner was pushing steadily north by east.”

     The Maurice Thurlow is a four master schooner of about 1,200 tons. During the recent Atlantic coast storms she was abandoned by her crew off Diamond shoals. The crew was picked up by a coast guard cutter, which was later forced to the open seas by the storm. Returning 10 hours later the cutter found the schooner gone and the beach strewn with wreckage. It was thought the schooner had been bettered to pieces until it was reported sailing to the northward.

Steamer Northeastern ~ 17 December 1904

Annual Report of the Operations of the United States Life-Saving Service for the fiscal year ending June 30, 1905:

At 11 p.m., during a strong SSW. Wind, with a very high sea and thick fog, the Northeastern, a freight steamer of 2,206 tons, carrying 22 men, struck upon the outer point of Diamond Shoals, about 9 miles from either station, ultimately breaking up and becoming a total loss. Her signals of distress were observed at both stations at about 4 a.m., and rockets were sent up in response, while the keepers held consultation by telephone. Owing to the dangerous surf it was impossible to launch a boat to go to the rescue and, in fact, the weather was so thick that it was not possible for the lifesavers to know that a vessel was upon the shoals. The weather continued thick until the morning of the 28th, when the wreck could be sighted. Keeper Etheridge, of Cape Hatteras station, then called away the surfboat, and the crew endeavored to launch, but at each attempt the boat was hurled back upon the beach by the resistless breakers. On the night of the 28th lights were seen upon the steamer, and were answered at the stations by more rockets. At 4.30 the morning of the 29th the wind had shifted to NW. and the surfboats of both stations were taken to Hatteras Cover, where the crews launched them and put out to the wreck. During the transportation and launching of their boat the Creeds Hill crew were assisted by surfmen from Big Kinnakeet station. The lifesavers reached the scene of the wreck at 9 a.m. They found the vessel lying in the midst of dangerous breakers and submerged, with the exception of a portion of the stern, upon which the crew had gathered. It was decided that one surfboat should approach the wreck at a time, the other standing by in case of accident, and the Cape Hatteras boat first entered he breakers, and by means of lines rescued 10 men; after which the Creeds Hill boat pulled in and saved the remainder, 12 men. The trip to shore was successfully accomplished, and the rescued men were succored at the stations three days, being provided with clothing from the Women’s National Relief Association stores. (See letter of acknowledgment.)

CREEDS HILL LIFE-SAVING STATION, NORTH CAROLINA, December 31, 1904

DEAR SIR: The steamship Northeaster, from Port Arthur, Texas, bound to Philadelphia, on the night of December 27, got upon Diamond Shoals, and was in a very perilous position, in a southerly gale. We had to stay on the wreck thirty-five hours, at the same time burning torches and receiving answers from the Creeds Hill and Cape Hatteras life-saving stations. The sea was running very high and it was impossible for anyone to launch a lifeboat. At the first chance the captains of Creeds Hill and Hatteras life-saving stations launched their boats and came to our rescue, for this we were very glad, as the ship was broken in two and in a sinking condition. We were landed safely by Captain E.H. Peel and Captain P.H. Etheridge, and we, the crew of the steamship Northeaster, think they ran a great risk in doing so. The kindness they showed us at the life-saving station after landing we shall never forget, as all our clothing was lost. We, the undersigned, can not speak too highly of the danger they put themselves to in saving us, for in twelve hours more we should all have been lost. We had no boats to save ourselves; they all got stove in launching them.

     Thanking Captains E.H. Peel and P.H. Etheridge and their crews for their kind hospitality, we remain, Yours, respectfully, W.J. LYNCH, Master Steamer Northeastern ; CHAS. R. MALCOLM, Chief Engineer ; C.H. BLAISDELL, First Assistant Engineer ; FRANK LIND, Second Assistant Engineer ; HENRY T. DANIELS, Third Assistant Engineer ; PAUL R.F. OVERBECK, Second Mate ; J. WATKINS, Steward ; ALFRED BOYD, Oiler ; FRANK JOHNSON, Quartermaster ; FRANK O. CARLSON, Quartermaster ; O.F. JANSON, Seaman ; LOUIS SIERVER, Messman

1907 chart of Cape Hatteras and Diamond Shoals

Schooner Robert H. Stevenson ~ 13 January 1906

San Francisco Call, January 18, 1906
Vol. 99, No. 49

Steamer Tzenny Chandris ~ 13 November 1937

The Tzenny Chandris (previously known as the Eastern Packet) was built at Kobe, Japan in 1920. After serving a period of usefulness during the postwar boom, she was towed up the James River, anchored at the head of a long line of idle ships and left to rust. In the summer of 1937 she was purchased by John Chandris of the Greek company bearing his name. Shipyard workers came aboard, Greek crew appeared—together chipping away rust, painting and putting her machinery in working order. Her engines were overhauled, her wireless was put in working order and her lifeboats were patched up.

     With these hurried repairs complete, the Chandris was put to sea under the command of George Couhopadelis. Of the 28-man crew all except Joseph Corrie, a 46-year-old English coal passer, were of Greek descent. Many had not been to sea for several years and her wireless operator was young and inexperienced.

     Before leaving Norfolk, VA she was loaded with several thousand tons of scrap iron and moved across Hampton Roads to Newport News for more cargo. She left Newport News October 27, 1937 and took on the last of her 9,010 tons of scrap and junk at Morehead City on November 11. When an attempt was made to move her away from its pier it was discovered that the weight of the added scrap caused her to “bump the bottom.” After waiting for a high tide, she floated free and began her voyage to Rotterdam on November 12.

     By time she passed Cape Lookout she was already taking on water. “We begged the Captain to turn back to some port when we found she was leaking,” Joseph Corrie later stated, “but he said the pumps would take care of the water.”

     Between Lookout and Hatteras the first winds of an approaching storm reached the Chandris. “She commenced listing to starboard before we got into the storm,” Corrie said. “When the storm hit us Friday afternoon water came pouring in from somewhere in the coal bins, shooting through a little door that coal fell through. When I went on watch Friday night I didn’t want to go down in that place, but the Captain persuaded me to go. I couldn’t swim and when the water came rushing in that place again, I went on deck. About that time the engine went off fix, and all lights went out.”

     As the sea swept over the boat deck, several of the lifeboats were carried away and cargo began to shift so that the vessel was canted over at a 15-degree angle. Kostas Palaskas, 25-year-old 3^rd engineer, later said that he and others of the crew had been “pleading with the captain for five hours,” to send an S.O.S. When the Captain finally gave the order to send it, the operator became confused and was unable to send it quickly. Palaskas said that he finally had to threaten the operator at the point of a knife before he got the message off. “I told him I would kill him if he didn’t send that S.O.S.,” Palaskas said. The S.O.S. went out at 4:06 a.m. Saturday and, though it was repeated several times and was picked up both by shore stations and ships in the vicinity, at no time was the position of the sinking ship given—one ship passed so close in the darkness that Captain Couhopadelis tried to signal for help with a flashlight.

     In the end the Captain ordered all hands to put on life belts and then sent them over the side into the stormy sea. At the time, the position of the Chandris was approximately 40 miles N.E. of Diamond Shoals Lightship. Corrie was the last man to leave the sinking vessel. “The rain and wind made so much noise you couldn’t hear anybody yell,” he said. “I waited there on deck. I didn’t want to jump because I had seen some of the fellows jump and they looked like they got hurt. Then the ship lurched once and went over on her side. She lurched again and went over flat on her side, level as a floor. Then is when I walked down and jumped. I was caught in the suction but I had to open my mouth to breathe and every time I did I took in sea water. It seemed like a year before I came back up.”

     Twenty-eight men and miscellaneous sheep, hogs and fowl were left foundering in the open sea as the Chandris went down. Six of the men located a battered, water-filled lifeboat and managed to climb into it. Fifteen others were grouped closely together, clinging to pieces of wreckage. The rest were scattered nearby, supported by life belts and debris.

     At 9:30 that morning, about 5 hours after the Chandris sank, the tanker Swiftsure sighted the floating lifeboat and rescued the men who were in it. Before proceeding on her way to Boston, she wired news of the rescue and its position and cruised the area for several hours without sighting other survivors.

     Throughout the day and night the other crewmen drifted in the open sea: Two men drowned during the day; a  third went crazy, lunged at Captain Couhopadelis in a maniacal fury and bit the captain’s nose before being subdued by shipmates. He died that afternoon; during the night three more died from exposure; and one, no longer able to control his thirst, drank salt water, went berserk, tried to choke Palaskas and finally swam off and disappeared. At dawn, Sunday, surrounded by dead and bloated animals and fowl, and with bodies of their deceased crew mates floating in their life belts nearby, the survivors were faced with the threat of sharks.

     Meanwhile, one of the most intensive and methodical rescue attempts in history was being carried out. Four Coast Guard vessels were patrolling the sea in systematic sweeps and 7 Navy planes and one Coast Guard plane were combing an assigned area of 19,200 square miles in search of survivors. At 10:30 a.m., Sunday, Lt. A.C. Keller, piloting a Navy patrol plane, sighted the survivors about 90 miles east of Kitty Hawk. Diving low he dropped a smoke bomb to mark the spot, then flew back to the near-by Coast Guard cutter Mendota, and directed it to the scene. When picked up soon afterward, the Chandris crewmen said the sound of the plane had driven the sharks away.

     Altogether, 19 men had been rescued by the Swiftsure and 13 by the Mendota; the bodies of four others were recovered; and 5 were unaccounted for, including Joseph Corrie. By then the Naval planes had nearly exhausted their fuel and were forced to return to Norfolk, leaving only the Coast Guard patrol plane piloted by Lt. R.L. Burke. Soon afterwards, Burke sighted two more men and the bodies of the other three nearby. His smoke bombs guided the Mendota to the scene and, after more than 30 hours in the sea, Joseph Corrie, last of the 28 crewmen to leave the sinking freighter, was picked up.

Steamer Ventura ~ 20 February 1918

The British steamer Vetura had loaded a cargo of nitrates in Colon, Panama and was bound for Hampton Roads, VA, but she never made the delivery. Lost in a dense early morning fog, the ship stranded upon the Outer Diamond Shoals on February 20, 1918. Her captain, Frank Mills, quickly realized his vessel was in dire trouble as it was aground in shoal water and being heavily pounded by mounting seas.

     A wireless broadcast from the stranded ship was received by the USCG Cutter Onodaga which was steaming nearby. But due to the dense fog, the cutter was not able to make contact with the Vetura until 13 hours later, at around ten o'clock that night. At that time, the cutter couldn’t get close to the Ventura as she was hard aground with breaking seas all about. So as not to meet the same fate as the stranded vessel, the rescue ship stood off in safe water over 200 yards away, lowered their boats and made several dangerous trips through the breaking seas to rescue all 47 crewmen and three cats.

     The crew was taken to safety in Wilmington, NC, but the Vetura remained on the Outer Diamond Shoals where the waves of the Atlantic beat her to pieces, the weight of her steel dragging the ship down into the pure white sands of the Diamond Shoals.

Annual Report of the Operations of the United States Life-Saving Service for the fiscal year ending June 30, 1918:

Around 12:30 p.m. on February 20, 1918 several lifesaving stations on the Outer Banks were notified by the Radio station in Beaufort of a steamship stranded on outer Diamond Shoals, about 12 miles SE of Cape Hatteras.
     Keepers C.R. Hooper of Big Kinnakeet and R.W. Basnett of Creeds Hill joined Keeper Gaskins at the Cape Hatteras Station's boathouse. Keeper Hooper reports:

"... Keeper Gaskins being sick and unable to perform his duty, had given up the boat in charge of Keeper Basnett, of Station #184, we proceeded at once to put the boat to a point of launching, Keeper Basnett selecting his crew from the three crews present ... the sea being rough and tide strong was unable to cross the outer bar and landed at 4:30 p.m. F.G. Gray, Surfman #2 on liberty."

At the Cape Hatteras Station three other crew members were "absent sick"; F.M. Miller #1, W.L. Barnett #2, Edward J. Midgett #6, leaving Janis Midgett #3 ... "temprary in charge".
     Because of the high seas running, none of the lifesaving crews were able to go to their assistance until about 2:00 a.m. the following morning. The crew from Hatteras Inlet Station were the first to arrive on the scene, closely followed by the crews from Big Kinnakeet, Cape Hatteras and Durants. Keeper John C. Gaskill of the Hatteras Inlet Station reports:

"... arrived at sene 8 a.m. proved to be the British steamship Ventura, with no signs of life on board. The crew had evidently left her in her own boats as most of them were gone. She was eqiped with wireless, had one gun aft. Ship is a total loss. Surfman W.H. Austin on anuel leave."

Although the crews from four lifesaving stations were involved, for 24 hours, their efforts were to no avail. By the time the lifesavers arrived at the scene, the crew of the Ventura were probably kissing the ground in Norfolk, VA. Keeper Basnette reports:

"... Have learned since returning from ship, that the crew was rescued by the Coast Guard Cutter ONONDAGO at 9 p.m., 20th."

GALE OF 18 AUGUST 1850

The brutal gale of August 18, 1850 took 5 vessels at Diamond Shoals alone. Miles of beach were strewn with debris and bodies.

• Ocean / Brig
• Belle / Brig
• Racer / Schooner / 3 killed
• Mary Ellen / Brig
• Margaret / Brig