All on the Randall Saved

A Day and a Night They Had Clung to the Rigging.

Shore Only a Third of a Mile Away, They Watched the Life Savers’ Fruitless Efforts-Captain’s Wife as Brave as the Men-Dropped One by One Into the Tug Merritt-Doing Well In the Presbyterian Hospital.

The crew of the four-masted schooner, Louisa H. Randall, which was driven ashore at Smith’s Point, near Bellport, L.I., on Tuesday, was rescued yesterday morning, and brought to this city. No fatality attended the work of the rescue, but the eleven, limp, trembling wretches who were brought off in the surf boat of the wrecking tug Merritt, looked as if they could not long have much longer withstood the exposure.

The vessel was bound from Philadelphia to Boston, coal-laden. In a furious on-shore gale she struck on a shoal about 600 yards distant from the sand dunes of Smith’s Point. That was Tuesday forenoon. The life-savers were alert and within a few hours six crews had assembled opposite the wreck.

All that the brave fellows could do to rescue the schooner’s people was done, but their efforts failed. The Lyle and Hunt guns were got into position, and in all thirty shots were fired, but only two of the projectiles carried the line over the schooner. The lines in both instances broke, and then as night obscured the outlines of the wreck, all further efforts to reach the crew by that means had to be abandoned.

As long as the day lasted, the forms of ten men and the captain’s wife clinging to the rigging of the vessel, could be plainly seen. The high-swelling waves seemed every moment about to tear the wreck asunder, and the patient watchers who stood on the beach from sunset to down, had little hope of seeing any vestige of the schooner when morning came.

Great bonfires were built along the beach, and all night long the blazes told the watchers in the rigging that the life-savers knew of their plight, and would risk their lives to save theirs as soon as it was possible to make the venture.

“There she is!” was the shout that went up as the first gray streak of dawn disclosed the outlines of the masts. Nothing else was visible, the hull being completely submerged. The surfboat was on its car ready for launching, and high above the breakers’ roar came the order of Capt. PENNY to his sturdy crew to man the boat.

It was a gallant, but fruitless effort. The boat was thrown almost end over end in a perpendicular cliff of water, and when righted again oars had been broken or torn from the locks, and the boat itself rendered almost a wreck. It is a buoyant craft, however, and kept afloat.

Meanwhile an effort that was being made by the wrecking tug Merritt was meeting with better success.

The Merritt’s surfboat was launched about the same time the life savers launched theirs. Guided by skillful hands, the boat ranged near the wreck, and then as it went foaming past the mainmast on the crest of a big seething wave, the two men who were clinging to the rigging on that spar made flying leaps and landed safely in the boat. Again the maneuver was tried, and two men from the foremast rigging were taken off. All hands were finally got on board. The rescue of the Captain’s wife was the most difficult of all.

Those taken from the rigging were CAPT. WILLIAM H. RANDALL, his wife, MRS. LOUISA H. RANDALL, of Vineyard Haven, L.I.; First Mate THOMAS SMITH of the same place, Second Mate CHARLES PHILLIPS, of Chelsea, Mass.; Steward J.S. ADAMS, of this city; Engineer JOHN OTTO of 149 Endicott Street, Boston; GEORGE LEGGETT of Moriches, L.I., who was working his passage from Philadelphia to Boston, and FRED CAULSON, EMILE HAMMQUEST, HENRY THIEL, and JOHN BGALARENDUND.

After the rescued were transferred to the Merritt, the tug went to the aid of the life savers, who were having all they could do to keep their wrecked craft afloat. They were taken on board and landed at Long Island City. The life boat is said to be damaged beyond repair.

The Merritt kept on and reached the foot of Seventieth Street, East River, about 4 o’clock. There two ambulances from the Presbyterian Hospital were waiting, and the rescued persons were quickly transferred to the hospital.

It was found that none had suffered, save from exposure. All were soon in satisfactory condition, and Capt. RANDALL was able to tell the story of suffering.

The schooner departed from Philadelphia Friday at 3p.m. When she reached the Delaware Cape she laid up until Sunday afternoon, when she put to sea in a light south south-east wind. The breeze continued light till 8 p.m. Monday, when it freshened to a gale.

The mainsail and spanker were reefed then and the flying jib taken in. The sea was rough and continued to be so throughout the night. At 2 o’clock Tuesday morning three tremendous seas struck the schooner in succession, causing her to heel over to port.

The cargo shifted, and the port rail was more than a foot underwater. The sea broke over the vessel’s deck, and the spanker and mainsail were taken in. An attempt was made to heave to, for the schooner was running before the wind toward shore, but she refused to answer to the helm. Soundings were taken, and it was found that the vessel was in 23 fathoms of water.

Capt. RANDALL was hopeful that the wind would change and allow him to get off shore, and he endeavored to cast anchor. Mate, SMITH attempted to drop the anchor, but the cable did not run out, and the anchor trailed behind and failed to catch. At 4:30 the man on the lookout sighted breakers, but there was no way to stop the vessel’s progress, and an hour later she struck the spit off the outer bar at Smith’s Point. Capt. RANDALL said she seemed to slide onto the sand, and began immediately to settle. In three-quarters of an hour she had filled with water. The heavy seas broke all of the upper deck, and carried away the deckhouse and galley.

Continued, part 2 below
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Transcribed by June. Thanks June!