“Rescue ” Randall

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 1047, 11 August 1930, Page 14

“Rescue ” Randall

HUNDREDS SAVED FROM SEA

A Distinguished Commander

“IJESCUE” RAND ALE—that is the name by which is known 11 Captain Albert 13. Randall, commander of the liner George Washington and one of the most distinguished commanders afloat. He has the reputation of having saved more lives at sea than any other man.

But Captain Randall makes light of it. “Rescues at sea are just part of one’s luck,” he explained. “There is many a captain that has sailed the seven seas over and over again and never come across a ship in distress. Yet for a while I would hardly make a trip hut what I would have to stand by and give a helping hand. I used to hate to come back to port with all the flags waving and whistles blowing, and my shipmates calling it ‘Randall’s luck’ because i saved some poor souls at sea. It embarrasses a fellow. “I believe in luck. Nights when I stand alone on the bridge while we’re going through the fog belt—often it’3 48 hours at a stretch —dowii below are lights and music and the passengers are dancing, and 1 think, What’s to prevent a freighter off its coures from suddenly looming up ill front of us in the fog, and crash! Down we all go to Davy Jones,s locker. I say, what’s to prevent it but luck? ‘•I stand up there on the bridge in the fog, all alone. I am captain of the ship. A couple of thousand persons have entrusted their lives to my care. I have the best officers and the best crew that ever walked a deck. I have one of the steadiest and most up-to-date ships that ever crossed the ocean. It is equipped with all the most modern, most foolproof navigating devices. I have been captain of big ships for more than 20 years, Yet skill, experience, training, brains — none of them means a thing if the sea wants to play one of her tricks. “It’s luck that helps the seafaring man. That’s what makes the sea so fascinating. Her ways are mysterious. Sometimes she’s kind to you. Then again she can be cruel. But when she likes you, you’re always lucky.” Zest For k'f e Captain Randall is a broadshouldered, genial-looking man, with a face that is stamped with kindliness and tolerance. His blue eyes have the keen, direct gaze of one who knows how to command. Years of dealing tactfully with the whims of a seagoing public—everyone knows that the modern sea captain must combine the qualities of a diplomat with those of a mariner—have left no mark of cynicism upon him. He is the sort of man who was born with a genuine affection for people and a tremendous zest for life. One of “Rescue” Randall’s most thrilling feats was the occasion on which he snatched six cold, halfstarved, half-dead men from the clutches of the sea. The schooner Rita M. Cluett, laden with salt, had left Oporto, Portugal, headed west. Half-way back to the home port of St. John, N. 8., the little schooner encountered terrific weather which carried away her sails and snapped off her masts. The sea battered her sides in raging fury. Her hull began to leak. Helpless, the Cluett lay wallowing in mid-ocean, struggling for its life. For two weeks the tiny vessel tossed in the sea. For two long, despairing weeks no vessel was sighted Food ran low. The captain and the crew began to suffer frightful privation. Hope of being rescued from a watery grave was virtually exhausted. Finally, one inky-black night Captain Cluett decided to send up .iis last three rockets in a last appeal for help. With his exhausted men huddled hopeless about him to shield the few remaining matches in his watertight purse, the hardy mariner set off the fuse. A flare went soaring off into the blackness of the night, a tiny, glowing appeal for help. Then another was lighted. The waves beat relentlessly over the little schooner. The men strained their eyes through the darkness watching for au answering flare on the horizon. As the angry winds howled and the cruel seas swept hungrily over the ship’s decks, the third and last rocket was lighted. The fuse sputtered and the men waited with bated breath, fearing that the rocket was useless. But the darkness lighted up for a moment as the rocket soared into the sky. Then darkness again—and despair. An Answering Glow Suddenly a cry went up from one o: the men. A reply signal had gone up far off on the horizon. All huddled l* the rail. Soon powerful searchlights began playing over the angry sea through the blackness of the night. Closer and closer they rode, sweeping the ocean for the helpless little craft. Within an hour a great ocean liner was standing by and had lowered a life-

boat. “Rescue” Randall bad robbed the sea of her prey. One of this captain’s most daring bits of seamanship, however, and one which greatly enhanced his reputation, was the time he not only saved the lives of his passengers, but nij ship as well. He was commander of the Powhatan, a ship that was a favourite of former President Roosevelt Hundreds of miles at sea, westboun.l, running into a frightful gale, the ship developed a bad leak. Several hundred passengers were aboard, including many women and children. Every pump was started. A call to stand by was sent out. Several liners responded to the appeal for help, but* the seas were running so high that it would have been suicidal to lower the boats. Captain Randall insisted that lie couM bring his ship into port. His fiery spirit inspired the crew Out from Halifax came a vessel to tow the Powhatan in. It is no easy matter to take a 10-inch line over the bow and tow on it when it comes out of the water a solid bar of ice. But they did it on the Powhatan; they struggled in the cold, driving seas and the wind, ami they made the hawser fast. The hawser snapped. Then it all had to be done over again. Again the crew fought with the gale. Captain Randall was determined to bring her into port. So it went hour after hour, making a little headway, losing a bit to leeward, always above water, always pointing toward Halifax. Captain Randall, when he tells this tale, dwells on the part that every man played—except his own trifling one of directing and being responsible for what every man did. But his warmest words are for those who, for all that anyone sees or hears anything of. might just as well not be aboard at all —the firemen. “Chinks they were,” the captain said. Then he tells how they rigged the “handy billy,” that portable pump and suction hose that gets its name because it answers calls for help in all parts of the ship, and is picked up and set down in any part of the ship where it is needed most. “There they were, the poor beggars, relieving that pump on the stroke for two or three days steady. Only those Chinks and the ‘handy billy’ kept the sea coming up over the engine-room floor-plates. You don’t need to ask what would have happened then!” At 25 years of age Randall, then a first officer in the United States collier service, had a most amusing experience. After the had successfully towed the dry dock Dewey from Baltimore to Manila, he was recommended for a captaincy in the collier service. He proudly presented himself to Admiral Marix, chief of the collier service, with his credentials. The admiral did not doubt his ability, but eaid he looked too young to be a captain. Randall returned to liis ship dejected. Soon he was ordered on a six months’ mission to southern waters with Admiral Evans’s fleet. During this trip he thought out a way to secure master's papers. He grew a very luxuriant beard. Nearly a 3*ear after the young officer had first visited Admiral Marix, ho again called on him and requested that he be given a .captaincy. Admiral Marix looked at the long, flowing beard, and signed the desired papers. The following day Captain Randall appeared clean-shaven. The captain likes to spin a yarn of the men and the ships, and sometimes of the enemies, he has met. He told one dealing with the torpedoing of tho President Lincoln just before the armistice. (The President Lincoln was a sister-ship to the Republic, which Captain Randall once commanded.) It is chiefly because he was a passenger on the Lincoln, and therefore officially an onlooker, that he likes tc talk of that morning. “We were on deck, a couple of colonels and I. One of them, looking fore, said; ‘What’s that, captain—a whale?’ I had a look, and told them that I’d never seen any whale act like that before. “Then in a minute they came through the water —the prettiest pair of torpedoes you ever saw. Anyone could see that they were going to hit the bull’s-eye. And in just a few seconds, sure enough, they got us. “Well, I went below to get my gear together and roll up a new uniform I’d bought a while before. Funny things a man does at a time like that. I shifted into some old slops so I would look like an officer and get picked up for a prisoner. I remem-

ber I spread the uni form I was wearing over a coat-hanger and hung it up in the clothes press. “Going on deck again, I happened to pass a water cooler, so I laid in about six glasses of water against what I might get in the boats and then I shoved along. “Things on the ship were going fine. Not any fuss. The sea was calm and it looked as if 300 life rafts had gone overboard already. The ship’s company just hpve them over the side, singing, “Where Do We Go Prom Here?’ Settling Fast “I went over after a while into a boat that the ensign had charge cf under the after falls. The patent detaching gear on the fall hooks was jammed, I remember. A bunch of soldiers went over with us into that boat; all were stepping out a bit, because the Lincoln was settling fast. “Then the submarine came along and the skipper hailed us. lie had one prisoner, but he wanted the skipper of the Lincoln. Of course we all said we didn’t know anything except that the Old Man had gone down with the ship—which he hadn’t, but the j sub fell for it. After he gave us a : few courses for the beach he shoved i along about his business and we were | picked up later by two of our de- j stroyefs. “But you know it wasn’t the sub that I remember best or the two destroyers showing up. No, sir, it was what happened just before we had pulled clear of the ship in our boat before she went down. “We were lying off but close aboard the Lincoln when three negro messboys came along the deck and the captain’s steward with them. All four had lifebelts on, so. of course, we sang out for them to jump. Wasn't anything to it then, because the Lincoln’s ste/n was just about awash, and anyway, as I say, the whole sea was covered with life rafts. “The three boys jumped and we hauled them aboard, but the captain’3 steward wouldn’t come. “Whar’s the captain?’’ he shouted. “We yelled back that it was all right about the captain, he’d better jump himself. We knew the captain was off, but we couldn’t make the steward believe it. He hadn’t seen him for himself. Half a dozen times, I guess, we ordered him overboard, but he wouldn’t come. Every time he refused. “ ‘No# sur.' I can still hear that fellow say, ‘Ah’m gwine for’d an’ see where the captain’s at. He may need me.’ “The brave fellow started for the captain’s cabin. All the time we kept hollering at him that he was safe. And then, when he was about 10 feet up the deck the sea came over the stern and headed for an after hold that had its cover off. The steward was abreast that hold when the sea caught him. I say he was a man, that steward.”