By John Carroll Carrothers
At noon on Wednesday, 20 January 1926, the SS PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT of
the United States Lines backed into the Hudson River from her pier in
Hoboken, New Jersey, and set forth on a routine passage to Bremerhaven,
Germany. She was commanded by the late George Fried. En route she was
scheduled to make short passenger and mail stops at English Channel
ports. Besides a large cargo destined for Germany, the PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT
carried about 200 passengers and several thousand bags of U.S. mail.
The PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT dropped her pilot near Ambrose Lightship at
2 o’clock that afternoon. Her course was then set toward Nantucket Lightship,
200 miles to the east.
Even before the pilot had departed, dirty weather set in. The ship’s
barometer was erratic, black clouds were scudding by overhead, a strong
wind was blowing in from the northeast, and a choppy cross-sea was running.
Captain Fried did not realize, of course, that he was heading directly
into one of the worst storms ever to be recorded on the North Atlantic,
as far as violence and duration were concerned.
Conditions grew worse as the voyage progressed. The PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT
was laboring heavily but it had not yet become necessary to slow her
engines. The ship was battened down throughout for heavy weather, passengers
were forbidden on the open decks, lifelines were strung out in the passenger
areas, and meals were served on wet tablecloths. During the afternoon
of the third day, speed was reduced. Throughout the night, circumstances
remained unchanged.
Under Captain Fried’s expert handling, the PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT was
weathering the storm nicely. Only the routine watches were maintained.
In normal manner the watches changed at 4:00 a.m. on Sunday morning
and Kenneth Upton assumed his vigil in the PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT’S radio
room.
One hour and forty minutes later, 5:40 a.m., his sensitive earphones
picked up a pleading distress call. The message was from the disabled
British freighter, ANTINOE. The ANTINOE was able to give only a dead
reckoning position, as for several days they has seen neither sun nor
stars from which to work out an accurate position fix. Captain Fried
was notified immediately. With the aid of his and other radio direction
finders, he obtained an accurate fix on the ANTINOE as she continued
to transmit messages of her plight. Fighting through heavy seas, the
PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT finally reached the ANTINOE’S side six and one half-hours
later.
The freighter had developed a severe starboard list, and the seas had
battered her lifeboats to splinters. She appeared helpless and completely
at the mercy of the elements.
Nevertheless, Captain Fried received a message from Captain Tose of
the ANTINOE stating that he thought that his ship could be saved. He
requested that the PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT attempt to get a line across
to ANTINOE for towing purposes. Captain Fried agreed, and ordered the
two International Code signal flags, "A over I", run up the
signal halyard to the port yardarm indicating that he would stand by
to assist. Several attempts to put a line on the ANTINOE ended in failure.
As darkness set in, the ANTINOE received a staggering blow that eliminated
any chance of saving her. It stove in her decks, flooded her engines
and boilers, and left her without light, power or heat.
Later that evening snow added to the already trying conditions. Increasing
in intensity the snow reached blizzard proportions before midnight.
The PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT’S powerful searchlights lost their focus on
the sinking ship. Now the possibility of a drifting collision added
to Captain Fried’s anxiety. It was not until 18 1/2 hours later that
the searching eyes on the PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT’S bridge caught their
next glimpse of the foundering ship.
The ANTINOE was now on her beam-ends slowly settling by the stern.
It was obvious that she could not last much longer. No time could be
lost in evacuating her crew.
Faced with this critical condition and knowing that the ANTINOE had
no lifeboats, Captain Fried called for volunteers.
From these volunteers, Chief Officer Miller picked his crew of eight
oarsmen. The lifeboat was prepared and swung over the PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT’S
side still in davits. All unnecessary equipment had been removed. The
liner was then maneuvered so that the lifeboat would be on her lee side
in order to afford it as much protection as possible from the towering
hull. Gradually the lifeboat, with the oarsmen at their places and the
Chief Officer at the tillet, was lowered until it was just above the
water. At the precise moment when a wave had reached its crest on the
ship’s side, the rope falls were released in the hope that as the wave
fell away from the ship it would carry the lifeboat safely with it.
Instead, the wave picked up the lifeboat and flattened it against the
PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT’S side. Only by quick the action of the men on deck
were seven of the lifeboat crew hauled back to safety. Two men perished
in the sea. The others changed into dry clothing and returned to await
further orders.
By now night had again set in with no indication of the weather abating.
Captain Fried knew that further attempts to launch a lifeboat at this
time were out of the question. The volunteers were dismissed and the
ship’s searchlights again took up the vigil.
At daylight rescue operations were resumed. The PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT
was maneuvered to a position on the weather side of the ANTINOE. Fuel
oil was dumped over the side in the attempt to smooth the intervening
seas. A line was finally put on the ANTINOE with the Lyle gun. A heavier
line was then run over to the ANTINOE to which an empty lifeboat was
fastened, but the rope parted while the lifeboat was on its way. Two
more attempts to launch lifeboats likewise ended in failure. Darkness
was setting in. In desperation, Captain Fried managed to get an unmanned
lifeboat over the side. He hoped that paying out a line while he circled
the ANTINOE, the rope would reach the ship and the lifeboat could be
hauled alongside. But again, there was failure.
With their stricken ship dead in the water and wallowing on her beam-ends,
the men on the ANTINOE wondered, as each giant green comber rolled over
her, if this would be the death blow. How long could she take an unmerciful
beating? Their only hope an comfort during those long hours were the
two little signal flags, "A over I", whipping in the gale
from the PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT’S yardarm.
As the hours stretched into days, they wondered, too, of the PRESIDENT
ROOSEVELT’S fuel supply would hold out or if she would be compelled
to go on without them. They could also see that she was a large passenger
liner and, no doubt, had mail on board. Obviously she would have a rigid
schedule to maintain.
Yet the mercy ship doggedly hung on.
Meanwhile Captain Fried had radioed his owners in New York that he
intended to stand by until the rescue was completed or the ship sank.
Those on board could not know that his messages had made known the ANTINOE’S
plight and all over the world prayers were being offered for their safety
and rescue.
The weather moderated slightly the next day and it was decided to attempt
another launching. The volunteers were requested to stand by. The PRESIDENT
ROOSEVELT was again maneuvered into position. The lifeboat was lowered.
At the precise moment the rope falls were released and the oars bent
until they were bowed. It was touch and go for a breathtaking moment,
but this time they made it, and while their shipmates cheered, they
inched their way toward the ANTINOE, moving in under the lee bow.
Captain Tose had decided that, with the exception of himself, married
men would be the first evacuated. These men jumped and were pulled to
safety by those in the lifeboat. With half the ANTINOE’S crew aboard,
the lifeboat made her return trip. Expert seamanship and the help of
eager hands on deck helped all to reach safety aboard the PRESIDENT
ROOSEVELT. The battered lifeboat was cast adrift. Further attempts to
reach the stricken ship were impossible at that time.
Shortly after midnight Thursday morning, the wind shifted and the storm
suddenly abated. Under a beautiful full moon another lifeboat left the
PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT, plucked the remaining men off the ANTINOE and returned
without incident.
Captain Fried then radioed the results of the rescue to the world.
His battle with the elements had lasted 85 hours and 40 minutes and
had cost two men’s lives, six lifeboats, and as many tons of fuel.
With three mighty blasts from her whistles, as a farewell salute to
the doomed ANTINOE whose stern had now completely disappeared beneath
the sea, the PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT resumed her voyage to Europe.
