The annals of the service justify the assertion that a considerable number of marine disasters recorded in the annual reports under the caption "Loss of Life" would find other classification did the imperiled mariners but remain aboard ship until the life savers could bring them to safety. The wreck of the
Saxon is a case in point.
The
Saxon was originally a steamer of 1,193 tons. She was built in Philadelphia in 1862. In 1903 she was remodeled into a barge of 555 tons. When she made her last voyage she was owned by the Atlantic Coast Lumber Company, of New York, but her port of registry was Georgetown, South Carolina. On the morning of October 11, 1908, she left her home port in tow of the steamer
Katahdin with a cargo of lumber consigned to Philadelphia. She carried a crew of four--the master Frank Pilong; mate, Fred Lund; one seaman (a negro); and a cook. The names of the seaman and cook could not be ascertained.
On the afternoon of the 12th, when the two vessels were off Cape Hatteras, they ran into rough weather, and after laboring in the seas several hours parted their towline, the barge going ashore 2-1/2 miles south of the Gull Shoal station on the coast of North Carolina. Only one of the four men on board, the mate (Lund), reached shore alive. Lund's story of what transpired after the parting of the hawser is as follows:
When the towline parted we ran up the forestaysail, foresail, and mainsail on the barge, and tried to stand offshore on the port tack, but could do nothing, as we lay in the trough of the sea. The
Katahdin came up and told our captain to try to get into Hatteras on the starboard tack, but we found that we could not do anything with her. The
Katahdin came up again shortly after wards and tried to pass us a 3-inch heaving line, but missed. The second time she tried we got the line and began hauling it in, but the steamer went ahead before we got the hawser on board and the running line parted. The
Katahdin then signaled us to anchor. I sounded and found a little over 3-1/2 fathoms of water. We let go our anchor, running out about 45 fathoms of chair, but it would not hold in the sea and current, and the
Saxon dragged into the breakers and stranded. This was somewhere near midnight. We made no distress signals, as we had only the red and green side lights. We had no anchor light, how had we any chance to put up any. We started to throw over the deck load, but the seas were breaking over the barge and she was pounding so hard that the captain ordered the boat launched--a 14-1/2 foot metal boat--his intention being to try to get aboard the
Katahdin which was lying by some distance seaward of us. We got the boat in the water with all hands in it and shoved off. The captain and I had the oars. The seaman and cook could not row; no one was steering. We had scarcely got away from the side of the vessel, however, when a sea came along and capsized us. I got clear and swam ashore; I do not know what became of the rest. I was washed back several times but finally got ashore breast of the lay a house and crawled up there very much exhausted. I stayed in the lay house until daylight. I saw the lights of the lifesavers on the beach and heard them fire the wreck gun, but was too weak to make my presence known. At daylight I found I was able to walk, and went up abreast of the
Saxon where the lifesavers were. They looked out for me and sent me to the station.
About 9 o'clock on the night of the disaster, when Surf man W.B. Miller, of the Little Kinnakeet lifesaving station, was covering the north patrol, he saw a white light seaward which he took to be the masthead light of a steamer standing in toward the beach, heading about WSE. No other lights were visible. He continued to watch the light as he want along, and when he neared the halfway house, marking the northern limit of his beat, he saw from the light that the vessel had come to and headed about NNE and, as he thought, stood off at slow speed. The surf man says, in his testimony given at the official investigation of the case, that he thought the vessel acted "very queer," but that he did not think she was in any danger of coming ashore, as he had often seen steamers haul up that way in bad weather such as prevailed that night. After finishing his patrol he reported what he had seen to his relief, but neither surf man considered the matter of sufficient importance to mention it to the keeper.
Surfman A.V. Midgett, of the Little Kinnakeet station, who covered the north patrol from midnight to 3 a.m., also saw the masthead light of the steamer offshore standing about northeast as he was starting out along the beach. When he had gone about half a mile on the trip outward he saw the two side lights of another vessel in the same general direction, and from the range he thought this last vessel must be ashore. He was making his patrol mounted, and he urged his horse forward that he might verify or disprove his suspicion. When he reached the halfway house he found that the vessel was some distance farther north. Continuing, he discovered her in the breakers some 250 yards from the beach. This was about 12:30 a.m. As he stood watching the vessel he saw a rocket go up in the direction of Gull Shoal, and knew that the crew of the station at that place had also discovered the wreck. As the scene of the stranding was nearer Gull Shoal than his own station, Surfman Midgett rode on northward with the intention of assisting the Gull Shoal crew in getting out their wreck apparatus and bringing it down the beach, they have no team available for that purpose. Before reaching the Gull Shoal station he met three surf men on their way to the wreck, who informed him that their keeper, Capt. Zera G. Burrus, of Gull Shoal, had telephoned for the team at the Chicamacomico station, several miles above Gull Shoal. Midgett therefore turned back with the surf men, and on coming again to the wreck found Capt. Edward O. Hooper, of Little Kinnakeet, on the scene with his crew, he having been apprised of the disaster by telephone from Gull Shoal. When Captain Hooper reached the vessel he had a fire made to show anyone aboard the wreck that help was at hand, and sent some of the surf men down along the beach to look for anybody who might come ashore. "At this time," says Captain Hooper in his testimony, "the wind was strong from the NNE, the weather was clear and cold, the sea and surf high, and there was a strong southerly current running. The stranded vessel could be seen about 200 yards offshore on the outer bar heading southward, the seas breaking over her, lumber washing overboard, sails lowered, and two side lights burning. A light could also be seen through the cabin window, but there were no signs of life on board."
The south patrol from Gull Shoal reported a light offshore down the beach about 11:30 p.m. Keeper Burrus at once ordered all hands to stand by and be ready, and sent surf man R.A. Grey out to make a closer investigation. The surfman came back a little after midnight and reported a wreck. As already show, upon learning of the wreck, Captain Burrus sent up a rocked and telephoned to Keeper Midgett, at Chicamacomico, for a team to haul his apparatus. He then notified Keeper Hooper, at Little Kinnakeet, and sent three of his surf men on ahead to stand by the vessel while he and the rest of his crew made everything ready to start when the horses should arrive. The team came at one o'clock a.m. and the apparatus cart, loaded with wreck gun, lines, and breeches buoy, was on the beach abreast of the vessel an hour later.
A number 9 line, projected by 6 ounces of powder, was first fired toward the wreck at an elevation of 22 degrees, but missed the mark, falling to leeward. A second line (a number 7), carried by a 5-ounce charge and aimed at 18 degrees elevation, was next sent over the wreck, falling abaft of the mainmast. Captain Burrus then gave the signal to haul off, but could get no answer. He thereupon sent two surf men south along the beach to see if anyone had come ashore or if any bodies had been washed up, but all they found was the little boat in which, as it after wards proved, the sailors had undertaken to leave the ship. Captain Burrus then sent the team back to Gull Shoal for the surf boat, thinking to board the wreck upon its arrival.
While the perplexed lifesavers were grouped on the beach awaiting the coming of the surf boat, Mate Lund put in his appearance and soon cleared up the mysterious features of the night's tragic event.
The service crews returned to their stations about 7:30 a.m. The
Kathahdin, whose lights could be seen offshore while the lifesavers were trying to establish communications with the wreck, came in near the
Saxon after daylight, and, seeing that the vessel was lost, turn about and steamed northward.
Asked by the investigating officer whether or not the crew of the
Saxon could have been saved had they stayed aboard their vessel, Keeper Burrus replied:
Yes, we would have saved them, every one, without any trouble. The second shot put the line across the deck abaft the mainmast, and the gear could have been rigged in a few minutes. The masts stood until about 2 p.m., October 14. If the anchor chair had been slipped, the
Saxon would have come over the reef and on the beach. On the 14th the mate and myself went aboard the wreck, but could find no papers or anything regarding the crew. Everything movable had been washed away.
The barge became a total loss, but a considerable portion of the lumber she carried was saved. The body of the cook was found by members of the Cape Hatteras lifesaving crew on October 16, a dozen miles from the scene of the disaster. The body of the negro seaman was picked up by the Big Kinnakeet Crew on the 18th.
