Evening Star Newspaper, June 8, 1930, Page 87

- “T'hrilling Sea Rescues “Just My Good Luck”™ BY EVE GARRETTE. APT. ALBERT B. RANDALL, one of the most distinguished captains of a modern ocean liner—he commands the S. S. George Washington, once President Wilson's peace ship—has the reputation of having saved possibly more lives at sea than any of his fellow seamen. He is known in seafaring circles as “Rescue” Ran- dall. Yet to induce him to talk about himself in the role of a hero is almost impossible. The gnan who saved the Powhatan, the Rita M. Cluett and La Reine de Mer, the man who has snatched hundreds of souls from & watery grave, actually laughs away his own part in daring rescues in midocean. “We just hap- pened along in that latitude,” is the way he puts it. “Rescues at sea are just part of one's luck,” he explained. “There’s many & captain that sailed the seven seas over and over again and never came across a ship in distress. Yet for awhile I'd barely make a trip but what I'd have to stand by and give a helping hand. I used to hate to come back fto port. All the flags waving and whistles blowing. And my ship- mates calling it ‘Randall’s luck’ because I saved some poor souls at sea. It embarrasses a fel- low, this hero stuff. “I believe in luck. What's to be is to be. Nights when I stand alone on the bridge while we're going through the fog belt—often it’s 48 hours at a stretch—down below there are lights and music and the passengers are dancing, and I think, What's to prevent a freighter off its course from suddenly looming up in front of us. in the fog, and crash! Down we all go to Davy Jones’ 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 intrusted 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. all the most modern, most foolproof navigating devices. I have been a 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. Semetimes she's kind to you. Then, again, she can be cruel. But when she likes you, you're always lucky.” The captain smiled cheerfully. I had found him in his cozy quarters aboard the George Washington—we were two days out of New York—engaging in a before-luncheon conversa- tion with his emerald-green South American parrot. Incidentally, it is perhaps the only sailor’s parrot in captivity that does not know how to swear. Nor, according to the captain, will it ever have the opportunity to learn. Capt. Randall is a broad-shouldered, 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—every one 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. NE of “Rescue” Randall's most thrilling feats was the occasion on which he snatched six cold, half-starved, half-dead men from the cluiches of the sea. The schooner Rita M. Cluett, laden with salt, had left Oporto, Portugal, headed west Halfway back to the home port of St. John's, New Brunswick, the little schooner encountered terrific weather, carried away her sails and snapped off her masts. The sea battered her sides in raging fury. Its hull began to leak. Helpless, the Cluett lay wallowing in midocean, struggling for its life. For two weeks the tiny vessel tossed in the sea. For two long, despairing weeks no ves- sel was sighted. Food ran low. The captain and the crew began to suffer frightful privation. Hope of being rescued from a watery grave was vir- tually exhausted. PFinally, one inky-black night Capt. Cluett decided to send up his last three rockets in a last appeal for help. With his ex- It is equipped with ~ THE. SUNDAY STAR,. WASHI (GTON, D. C, JUNE 8 1930. 11 — 29 W hen the seas are running high, the saving of men from a derelict ship is hazardous, calling for supreme courage and skill, despite Capt. Randall's modest statement that fortune smiled on him. Skipper of the Good Ship George Washington, “Rescue” Randall, Attributes His Success in Salvage of Ships and Souls From Briny Deep to Plain Good Luck. hausted men huddled hopeless about him to shield the few remaining matches in his water- tight 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 watch- ing for an 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 sput- tered and the men waited with baited 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. Suddenly a cry went up from one of the men. A reply signal had gone up far off on the horizon. All huddled to the rail. Soon power- ful 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 lifeboat. “Rescue” Randall had rob- bed the sea of her prey. One of this captain's most daring bits of sea- manship, however, and one which greatly en- hanced his reputation, was the time he not only saved the lives of his passengers but his ship as well. He was commander of the Powhatan, a ship that was a favorite of former President Roosevelt. Hundreds of miles at sea, west- bound, running into a frightful gale, the ship developed a bad leak. Several hundred passen- gers were aboard, including many women and children. Every pump was started. A call to The George Washington, once President Wilson’s peace ship, now commanded by “Rescue” Randall, photographed from the rear deck of another vessel. . Capt. Albert B. Randall, whose heroic record for saving life at sea includes the Powhatan, the Rita M. Cluett and La Reine de Mer rescues. stand by was sent out. Several liners responded to the appeal for help, but the seas were run- ning so high that it would have been suicide to lower the boats. Capt. Randall insisted that he could bring his ship into port. His flery 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 ecold driving seas and the wind, and they made the hawser fast. The hawser snapped. Then it all had to be done over again. Again the crew fought with the gale. Capt. 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. Capt. 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 any one sees or hears anything of, migh¢ 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 that ‘handy billy" kept the sea from coming up over the engiie room floor pilates—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 he had suce cessfully towed the drydock Dewey from Baltie more to Manila he was recommended for g captaincy in the collier service. He proudly pre= sented himself to Admiral Marix, chief of the collier service, with his credentials. The ad«_, miral didn't doubt his ability, but said he | looked two young to he a captain. Randall . returned to his ship dejected. Soon he was ordered on a six-month mission to Southesn . Lontinued an Twenty-first -Page svgll ottt e - TR