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Two of the most daring and dramatic shipwreck rescues in American history occurred off Cape Hatteras, North Carolina, August of 1899. Remarkably, they happened on two consecutive days. The first incident is one of the strangest and most inexplicable shipwreck stories of all time. The second is a nearly unbelievable tale of individual heroism that remains unmatched today. Both were by the unheralded United States Life-Saving Service (1871-1915). In 1915, it merged with the U.S. Revenue Cutter Service to become United States Coast Guard.
The Setting
Regardless of their age, education, travel or worldliness, most Americans have never heard of the United States Life-Saving Service. Who were these forgotten heroes? “They were the greatest heroes of the American coast, routinely risking their lives in grand maritime rescues. Their work was respected and honored by America’s most prestigious leaders, celebrated in the most popular publications of their time, and of deep interest to medical, educational, religious, and political leaders… But somehow America forgot these peaceful heroes,” begins the opening paragraph of an authoritative work. During their 44-year history, using no more than small, open, wooden boats and cork life belts, they responded to over 178,000 lives in peril…of which they saved, OVER 177,000 . . . yet, somehow, America forgot these peaceful heroes.
The date was August 1899. The most violent and destructive hurricane to ever hit the U.S. Atlantic Coast until then was upon us. It gave warning through newspapers and telegrams. It had wreaked havoc in the Caribbean, destroying thousands of homes and other buildings, killing hundreds of people, and sinking an untold number of ships. After leaving the Caribbean, it began leveling the Florida coast and moved slowly and relentlessly north. As it crawled up the Atlantic coast, it took dead aim on Cape Hatteras.
It struck the island on August 16th. When it was over two days later, seven vessels were lost as total wrecks on the beach; six more disappeared in the tumultuous seas without a trace. This story focuses on only two of those unfortunate vessels.
First Wreck & Rescue:
Schooner Aaron Reppard
The first known Hatteras Island victim was the Aaron Reppard, a three-masted, 459-ton schooner, carrying coal from Philadelphia to Savannah. She had a crew of seven and one very unfortunate passenger. Her voyage was a constant series of mistakes from the very beginning. What unfolded next is one of the strangest and most inexplicable shipwreck stories of all time. First, she departed Philadelphia on Saturday, August 12 at 2:00 p.m. by being towed some 50 miles down the Delaware River. At 5:00 a.m. three days later, Aaron Reppard set sail heading south, already into the face of increasing winds. If only she had waited another few days.
By the following morning, the Reppard was fully engulfed by the ferocious hurricane. The now somewhat confused and disoriented Captain Wessel reckoned he was somewhere around Cape Henry, Virginia; his next big mistake. He was actually much farther south, off the Outer Banks. Earlier, he could have sought safety in Chesapeake Bay.
The captain’s next mistake was colossal: he decided to anchor offshore Hatteras Island and “ride out” the hurricane. That is when the Aaron Reppard was spotted by Surfman William Midgett on beach patrol from Gull Shoal Station. Midgett immediately knew the schooner was in big trouble and reported to Keeper Pugh of his Gull Shoal station upon his return. Pugh telephoned stations Chicamacomico (north neighbor) and Little Kinnakeet (south neighbor). All three stations took up positions on the beach opposite the Aaron Reppard with their survival equipment. They watched helplessly.
Although anchored, the violent wind and waves were dragging the Aaron Reppard closer to shore, closer to wrecking, closer to certain doom. There was still time to hoist anchors and be saved from crashing onto the shore. But the captain not only did NOT do that, but he also did the most disastrous thing possible – he ordered the sails raised! This naturally increased the speed at which the ship was being dragged to shore where it hit bottom. Seeing the inevitable, all the crew and Mr. Cummings, the passenger, climbed the rigging to higher ground. Being stationary, the schooner was now taking the full brunt of each horrific wave. Each hit was so violent that the survivors had to literally hold on to some part of the ship for dear life. San Ciriaco wanted to shake them off into the sea. She soon had her way.
The Reppard finally was at the farthest edge of the Lyle gun range. This enabled the lifesavers to eventually establish a “zip line” with a single seat – the breeches buoy – to haul survivors to shore, but it required actions carried out by the shipwrecked crew. They would have to retrieve and haul in a successful Lyle gun shotline. Two shots were fired and failed. The third was perfect but the crewman could not let go of his hold to grab the line; it did no good. Horrifyingly to witness by the assembled life-savers, the mariners began falling from their lofty perches. Mr. Cummings fell from the mizzenmast, caught a foot in a rope, and then became a pendulum repeatedly slamming into the mast. One by one the crew were lost. Now only three remained.
Sworn to oath, yearning to save, but thwarted by the extreme violence of wind and water, their frustration was unbearable. They formed a new plan: Members of each station began an improvisation where one would strap on a cork life belt, tie a shotline around himself, while two other surfmen would be his anchor onshore as he waded into the incessant, raging surf. The high winds and heavy surf carried a lethal arsenal of debris from chunks of the broken ship, even huge spars. Seventy-year-old Keeper Hooper of Station Little Kinnakeet was one of the rescuers entering the surf. Almost immediately, deadly pieces of debris struck his right leg and broke it. He continued on because he could see three sailors still alive, and that is truly what life-savers DO. When the life-savers all finally emerged, they had those three sailors with them, still alive.
A dreadful and exhausting day, some failures but some successes. Yet all these men knew full well, it was not over yet.
Second Wreck & Rescue: Barkentine Priscilla
All the surfmen from those three life-saving stations returned to their stations exhausted. Nevertheless, regulations required two surfmen to walk “beach patrol” in opposite directions every night halfway to their neighboring station. Poor Rasmus Midgett, Surfman Number One at the Gull Shoal Station, drew one of the next beach patrols.
He left his Gull Shoal station at 3:00 a.m. on his personal horse. The tide was washing over the island, so he rode through the swash and rough surf. He passed one shipwreck hulk after the next from his previous experiences the day before. It was dark, loud, unpleasant, and difficult to see due to the blowing sand, rain, sea spray, and lack of light. He soon spotted more flotsam and jetsam that may be new since yesterday. Arriving at the wreck, he heard the terrified screams of survivors. They were huddled in the forward half of the barkentine Priscilla, which San Ciriaco had torn in two and was nearly ashore. Still, it was the middle of the night and the middle of a violent hurricane, and those people aboard had no idea where they were.
Rasmus was faced with an ultimate dilemma: Go back to the station to get the full crew and rescue equipment? Or go in himself now? The first choice would take far too long, he reasoned. The second was extremely dangerous for him. As a trained Surfman, Rasmus observed that the waves were very high. The relationship between the height of a wave and the distance between them is called “wave length.” The higher the waves are, the farther apart they are. So quickly Rasmus devised a bold and daring plan.
He called out to the ship and instructed one person to jump off when he commanded, even though he was already exhausted from the day before and had gotten little sleep. He would then run out between the waves, retrieve that person, and bring them safely to shore. It worked. He did that again. And again. Seven times he risked his life to save another’s. Can you imagine yourself in those dreadful circumstances? But it was not over.
By then, Rasmus had discovered three more on board too badly injured for this plan to work. Nevertheless, he braved the gigantic waves an eighth time. After struggling to climb aboard, he rested on the deck for a few seconds to catch his breath and regain his strength. Then, he picked up a survivor, climbed back down, timed the waves, and rushed the survivor to the beach. Incredibly, he did that all over again – two more times.
By himself, Rasmus Midgett saved all 10 shipwreck survivors in the middle of a hurricane, in the middle of the night, after two days of previous rescues. This is undeniably an amazing story of extraordinary heroism.
But somehow,
America forgot these
peaceful heroes . . .
This story appeared in the
Sep/Oct 2024 edition of Lighthouse Digest Magazine. The print edition contains more stories than our internet edition, and each story generally contains more photographs - often many more - in the print edition. For subscription information about the print edition, click here.
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