On September 20, 1906, the U. S. S. Minneapolis was off the coast of North Carolina, proceeding from Philadelphia to Havana at sixteen knots speed. We had left the Philadelphia Navy Yard two days before, with two battalions of marines and their camp equipage, because a revolt was imminent in Cuba, and the United States intended to prevent it. Marines and soldiers of the regular army were ordered to Cuba in large numbers and with great dispatch. The marines, of course, got off first; and those on board the Minneapolis were the first detachment of the marines. We had four hundred of them; and these, in addition to the regular crew of the ship, made somewhat over eight hundred souls on board.
Shortly before we left Philadelphia, there had been a cyclone to the southward; but this had subsided, and the weather on September the twentieth was clear and pleasant, the only reminder of the cyclone being a smooth and heavy swell.
I turned in about half-past ten that evening. About eleven o'clock, I was wakened from a sound sleep by a vigorous rapping at my door and a voice calling:
"Captain, captain."
"Well?"
"Man overboard, sir."
"Man overboard?" I inquired drowsily.
"Yes, sir."
"Very well, I'll go on deck."
By this time I was sufficiently roused to realize that the night was so warm that I need not put on any warm clothing, and that the gold braid on my cap visor would be sufficient identification on deck. So I simply put on my cap, and went up on the quarterdeck with no other clothing than my pajamas.
When I got on the quarterdeck, the great darkness prevented my seeing anything at first: But, in a few moments, my eyes became sufficiently accustomed to the darkness to enable me to see that the two life-boats, which hung on each side of the quarterdeck, were already manned; and that what remained of the quarterdeck, where lumber was not stowed, was covered with officers of the ship and marine officers, who, though perfectly quiet, had the air of being astonished at something.
Just then the executive officer, Lieutenant-Commander Stanworth, came up and said:
"Sir, we do not yet know exactly what has happened. I don't think any man has fallen overboard from the ship.; but the sergeant of the guard says he heard a man calling for help from the water."
"But the ship has not been stopped," I said; "I hear the engines going now."
"No, sir," he answered, "the officer-of-the-deck put his helm hard-a-port and headed back."
I sent an order to the officer-of-the-deck to stop the ship, and head her in the direction we had come from, and to turn on both searchlights, and search in every direction. I interrogated Mr. Stanworth further, but found that he knew no more of the situation than he had already told me.
There were a great number of officers congregated near, and I gathered from their remarks that they were thoroughly mystified. I asked some of them if they could give me any information as to what had happened, and none of them could; but they all thought that whoever heard the cry for help was suffering from delusion, because, as one of them said, how could there be anybody out here on the ocean at night, more than fifty miles from shore? I then told Mr. Stan worth that I would go on the bridge, and that I wished him to accompany me. I directed Ensign Howe to take charge of one life-boat and Ensign McCommon of the other, and to be ready to go in search of the man, but not to lower the boats until ordered.
On my way forward to the bridge, which, in a ship four hundred and ten feet long took some time, I found the deck full of people conversing in subdued tones. They all stopped talking as I went by; but I could gather from stray remarks that they were more than incredulous as to there having been any cry for help; and I heard such expressions as, "Oh, the sergeant's got rats;" "He's a --, --," etc., all along the decks.
On my way forward, the sudden realization came to me that I was in command of a ship, sent on urgent duty at a critical time, and that I was headed in the wrong direction.
When I got on the bridge the officer-of-the-deck saluted and said, "Good evening, Captain."
"Good evening, Mr. Cooper, what has happened?"
"I don't know exactly, sir; but a few minutes ago the sergeant of the guard, who is a very reliable man, ran up here and reported that he heard a man overboard in the water. So I put the helm hard-a-port and headed back, and now I've got the ship stopped, according to your orders. I've got both searchlights turned on, also, sir. "
"So the ship's stopped, and you are headed back in the direction you came from?"
"Yes, sir."
"Where's the sergeant of the guard who made this report?"
"Here, sir;" and the sergeant stepped forward out of the darkness, saluted, and stood at attention.
"Now sergeant, tell me the whole story."
"Well, sir, it had just gone six bells, and I was standing by the port rail of the superstructure deck, about half-way forward, talking to the chief carpenter's mate. All on a sudden, I heard a man right under me, like he was right close to the ship, call out 'help.' I heard him as plain as I ever heard anything in my life, sir. So I said to the carpenter's mate, 'Did you hear that man call "help?"' 'No,' he said. Just then I heard him call again just the same as before, only not so loud, as if the ship had gone by him a little. 'God Almighty,' said the carpenter's mate, those are the words he used, sir, 'I heard him that time.' Then I ran up to the officer-of-the-deck as fast I could, sir, and told him just what I told you, sir; that is all I know about it, sir; but here's the carpenter's mate, sir, and he'll tell you the same as I do."
"Carpenter's mate."
"Yes, sir;" and another man came forward and saluted.
"Did you hear any man call 'help' from the water?"
"Yes, sir."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive, sir."
The sergeant and the carpenter's mate were evidently sober, and they were perfectly calm. I endeavored to impress them with the seriousness of turning back a ship bound on urgent duty; but they both assured me, with the utmost earnestness, that they had heard the cry; and I became convinced that they were at least- sincere.
Then I figured out on a piece of paper the most probable direction of the man at the present time, and ordered the officer-of-the-deck to head in that direction, and go at a very slow speed, also to train one searchlight in a direction which I indicated and the other in another given direction; but first to lower the lifeboats, and order Howe and McCommon to pull just outside of the searchlight beams.
Then Mr. Stanworth and I stood together on the port side of the bridge, with our night glasses, looking in what we considered the most probable direction in which to pick up the man; supposing there was one.
Before this time the men had been mustered at quarters, and it had been definitely ascertained that no one had fallen overboard.
"What do you think of this, Stanworth?"
"I don't know quite what to think of it, captain. I don't see how a man could be overboard out here. My father was a pilot, and I have been among seafaring people all my life, and I think I've read nearly all the sea stories there are. I never heard of such a thing, but the men seem to be absolutely sure they heard a cry for help."
"I know, but it seems more probable to me that there should be a ventriloquist on board than that there should be a man alone out here on the ocean."
"By George," said Stanworth, "I never thought of that."
When Stanworth said "By George," which was the closest approximation to profanity that he allowed himself, I knew that he was roused from the condition of imperturbability in which he habitually lived; and I enjoyed the occasion accordingly.
The events thus far narrated occupied about half an hour; that is until about seven bells, or half-past eleven. Up to this time, the rapid succession of impressions kept me interested, and kept my faith alive; but as the moments wore on, and the searchlights brought out nothing but the water, which they illuminated in greenish-white streaks, I began to doubt more and more the wisdom of my action.
About fifteen minutes before twelve, Stanworth said, in his quiet voice:
"I think I see something, sir."
"Where?"
"Near the left side of the beam of the forward searchlight."
I trained my glass in that direction, but could see nothing. Just then the searchlight moved a little to the left, and through my night glass, I thought I saw a little white projection sticking above water, about two points on the port bow.
"I think I see something too."
In a few minutes everybody on deck saw it. "What is it?" came from men scattered all about the decks.
For some time, perhaps five minutes, but it seemed much longer, nothing could be made out of this curious little white elevation.
"I think it's moving, whatever it is," said Stanworth.
"It seems to me," continued Stanworth, speaking very slowly, "that it moves from right to left and back again, like a pendulum upside down."
"Yes, I think you're right," and I directed the officer-of-the-deck to head the ship towards the object at very slow speed.
The object seemed to be quite small, and it evidently did not move with the undulation of the sea: its movement had not the same period; it was quicker. It seemed to me as if it must be either a man who was moving from side to side, or else something that was moved by some kind of engine. The movement was perfectly regular.
"By George, sir," exclaimed Stanworth, "I believe it's a man using a paddle! Now watch, and see if you don't see the paddle pretty soon. You see, if a man was in a little boat paddling, that is exactly the way his body would swing, from right to left."
"Yes, Stanworth, I think you're right, except that there isn't any boat. The searchlight's on the thing full tilt; and if there were a boat we'd see it."
"Yes," assented Stanworth, "that is what perplexes me; but I think we shall have a solution of the mystery pretty soon. I see our boats are pulling for the thing, whatever it is."
I looked, and there were our two life-boats racing, with all the vim and precision that was in them, for the prize. One boat got a little ahead of the other, and soon we saw the white object lifted into one of the boats. Then both boats pulled for the ship.
The men were sent aft to man the life-boats' falls, and I sent word to Surgeon Lumsden that I thought we had picked up a man, and for him to be prepared to receive him in the sick-bay. Then I went aft on the quarterdeck. Both boats soon neared the ship; and in one of them was a man, in dark clothes, sitting in the stern sheets. I hailed the boat and asked if the man were badly hurt, and the man himself replied, "No sir, I'm all right."
By this time the surgeon had joined me on the quarterdeck and said:
"Before receiving the man in the sick-bay, sir, I should like to examine him, and see if he has any contagious or infectious disease."
"Very well, doctor, I'll have the man brought here, and you may examine him as you think best. I'll not interfere."
The boat was hoisted level with the deck, and the man was passed out, and carried forward by two stout sailors, and brought before the surgeon.
"Can you stand up?" said the surgeon.
"Yes, sir," said the man; and at a sign from me, the two men put him on his feet and let him stand up. He was a man of middle size, with a short brown beard; apparently about thirty-five years old. He had on a shirt and a pair of trousers.
"Have you any contagious or infectious disease?" said the surgeon.
"No, sir."
The doctor put his hand on his pulse and said, "Open your mouth." The man opened his mouth and it looked healthy, except that his tongue was swollen.
"How long have you been in the water?" said the surgeon.
"Nearly three days, sir."
"How long since you've had any food?"
"Just three days ago to-night, sir."
"How long since you've had any water?"
"Same time, sir."
"Do you feel any special pain or distress in any part of your body?"
"Well, I feel pretty tired, but I'm all right," was the sturdy reply.
He was carried below, and I will never forget the feeling of admiration with which I looked at this man, so calm and self-possessed after passing through such an ordeal. In my experience, I have never known his nerve to be equalled.
About an hour later the surgeon reported that the rescued man was now asleep, and that he thought that there was nothing the matter with him, except that the flesh of his arms and thighs was greatly lacerated.
The next day I went down to the sick-bay and found him lying in a cot. He put out his hand and said to me, in a cordial but matter-of-fact tone:
"I'm very much obliged to you for saving me, captain."
"I'm very glad to have saved you; we sailors have to do these things for each other, now and then."
Then, in reply to a question, he told me that his name was George Olsen, and that he had been first mate of the schooner Twilight, bound from Charleston to some northern port. On Monday they had been caught in the cyclone, but had managed to get some supper Monday night. About six o'clock Tuesday morning, the schooner had been thrown on her beam ends, so that her masts rested on the water. The masts almost immediately broke in two, and the schooner went bottom up. He, himself, was thrown out violently into the water, with a great deal of lumber with which the schooner was laden. This lumber was hurled about by the waves, and he thought that the other men were probably killed by the lumber at that time. He, however, managed to get clear of the wreckage. He then got hold of two boards, and supported himself by putting his arms over them. He had on a pair of thick rubber boots, a heavy oilskin coat and a souwester.
He remained in this position twenty-four hours. At the end of that time the violence of the sea had diminished. He then took the two boards and placed them in the form of a cross, and lashed them together at the cross with a sort of rope, made by tearing his oilskin coat into strips and tying them together. He then sat astride of this cross, and found a small piece of wood, which he used as a paddle. While in this position, he saw the smoke of several steamers, but could not make the people on board see him. Finally, on Thursday night, he saw the white, green and red lights of a steamer coming towards him very fast. He paddled as hard as he could until he got directly in front of her; then, as she got very near., he paddled out just clear of her course, and yelled for help with all his might.
"And pretty soon," he said simply, "I saw the ship turn around, and then I knew I was all right."
I kept Olsen on board a month, until his flesh had healed. Then we got up a subscription in the ship, and he went home to his wife and family in Sweden.