The Finest Hours (8 page)

As the motor kicked back to life, Bernie Webber noticed a change in the seas. The waves were more monstrous now, but they were also spread farther apart. This told him that he and his crew had defied the odds. They had made it over Chatham Bar.

In many ways, however, their nightmare had only just begun. They were outside the bar, but Bernie had no idea of their exact location. He pushed the throttle down and headed deeper into the teeth of the storm.
If only I can make it to the Pollock Rip Lightship, I think we'll be okay
, he told himself. He had no compass, and the radio was so tied up with traffic that it was utterly useless to him now.

It was a dance of giants as the 60- to 70-foot waves rose and fell. The men's senses were heightened; they were assaulted by roaring wind when their boat rode up to the top of waves, then enveloped in an eerie quiet as they plunged down into the valleys. All were soaked from the bone-chilling ocean, but so much adrenaline was coursing through them that they hardly noticed. Each time the boat plunged into a trough, icy spray and foam slapped them in the face, and Webber fought the wheel to prevent the boat from broaching. They kept their knees bent, trying to anticipate the impact of each oncoming wave. While Webber clung to the wheel, Livesey, Fitz, and Maske kept a vise-like grip on the rails, believing if they were hurled out of the boat, they would likely never be found.

The storm grew stronger as they ventured farther out to sea, where the cauldron of wind and snow intensified even more. Webber's only option was to ride the waves like a thunderous roller coaster. He let the
CG 36500
's engine idle as they climbed slowly and steadily up toward the wave's curled, frothing peak. Bernie gunned the engine to get them over the top of the wave, and they all held on as the lifeboat raced down the other side.

Like the men aboard the stern section of the
Pendleton
, the crew of the
CG 36500
also prayed this would not be their last night on earth. Although Webber wouldn't admit it to his men, his hope was fading. Again, he thought of Miriam sick in bed at home. Who would be the one to tell her that her husband was not ever to return? Bernie tried to shake the image and refocused his attention on the angry seas ahead. He peered through the broken glass of the windshield and felt his heart jump. Webber could see a mysterious dark shape rising menacingly out of the surf. He slowed the lifeboat almost to a stop.
There's something there
, he told himself.

“Andy! Go to the bow and turn on the searchlight!” Webber hollered. Fitzgerald moved carefully toward the forward cabin and flicked on the searchlight switch. A small beam of light was cast, illuminating the huge object that was now less than 50 feet away. Had Webber gone any farther, he would have collided with it. The steel hulk was dark and ominous, with no apparent signs of life.

My God, we're too late
, Bernie thought.
It's a ghost ship.

*   *   *

Raymond Sybert fought back his darkest thoughts as he and 32 other men sat helplessly inside the stern section of the
Pendleton.
There was nothing left for the men to do but ride out the storm and wait for help to arrive.
If it arrived.
Just then, the man on watch noticed something—a small light, headed their way.

Frank Fauteux and Charles Bridges also saw the light. “It was the most glorious sight,” said Fauteux, “this single light bobbing up and down in the rolling seas. No one cheered. We just watched, spellbound.” Bridges recalled that the light looked no bigger than a pinprick in the inky blackness, mesmerizing as it went up and over the huge seas, slowly inching closer.

*   *   *

Bernie Webber motored the
CG 36500
in for a better look as Andy Fitzgerald continued to run the searchlight up and across the wide girth of the tanker. The beam of light flashed on the name
Pendleton
painted high up along the side of the hulk. The giant ship looked enormous and indestructible.
How could it have split in two?
Webber thought as he maneuvered his tiny lifeboat down the portside of the stern.

A sense of guilt came over Bernie Webber as he came to realize that he had jeopardized the lives of his men for a lost cause.
This is a useless trip. The seamen aboard the
Pendleton
didn't have a chance
, Bernie thought.
And now my men have little chance of returning home alive.

An eerie silence hung over the ship as the wide-eyed lifeboat crew inspected the wreckage. The silence was broken by eerie groaning sounds as they arrived at the gaping hole that was once connected to the bow. The men looked inside the intestines of the ship with its shredded compartments and its loose steel beams and plates swaying back and forth in the frothing surf. Webber steered away from the giant tunnel leading to the bowels of the ship and guided the lifeboat around the stern, where the crew was startled by something else now. A string of lights glowed high up on the ship's decks—the fractured stern had not lost power after all. In the twinkle of the lights, they could also see a small figure! A man was waving his arms wildly!

They had not come for nothing.

But how would they get this man off the high deck? The survivor would have to jump, and there was a strong possibility he would be engulfed by the waves. As the
CG 36500
crew contemplated the next course of action, the man on the high decks disappeared.
Where did he go?
Bernie asked himself.

Suddenly, the figure returned, and this time he was not alone. Three additional men were with him, then four or five more appeared, and new figures kept coming. Within a minute's time, more than two dozen survivors in orange life jackets lined the rails! All of them looked directly down at the diminutive lifeboat trying to maintain position in the tumultuous seas.

Fred Brown and Tiny Myers were standing side by side on the rail. Tiny turned to Fred and, pulling his wallet out of his trousers, said, “Take my wallet. I don't think I'll get through this one.” Fred was taken aback by the comment but retorted, “You've got just as good a chance as I have.” Brown took the wallet and stuck it right back in Tiny's hip pocket.

Bernie, looking at the shadowy figures above, was first overjoyed at seeing so many sailors alive, but he quickly came to a frightening realization. It might be impossible to fit all those men on the 36-foot lifeboat. The responsibility hit Webber like a tidal wave.
How are we going to save all these men? If I fail, what a tragedy this will be.

Still gazing up at the deck, Bernie saw a rope ladder with wooden steps, called a Jacob's ladder, drop over the side of the
Pendleton.
And in the next instant, the stranded seamen started coming down the ladder as fast as they could.

The first man down the ladder jumped and landed with a loud crash on the bow of the lifeboat. The others clung tightly to the rope as it swayed dangerously outward while the
Pendleton
rocked in the seas. Their screams echoed over the swirling winds as they slammed back against the hull when the ship rolled in the opposite direction.

Bernie drove the lifeboat in toward the hull, trying to time the maneuver just right so each survivor would land on the boat and not in the icy water. With the rolling seas, this proved to be an impossible task. Some of the survivors leaped toward the lifeboat only to find themselves plunging into the frigid swells below. The
CG 36500
was fitted with a safety line wrapped around the shell of the boat, and the soaked seamen eventually found their way to the surface and held on to the rope for dear life.

Fitzgerald, Maske, and Livesey took hold of the waterlogged men and hoisted them aboard. The crew scrambled quickly for fear the survivors would be swept under the bow of the lifeboat. All the while, Webber kept a steady hand on the wheel, making passes each time a desperate man jumped from the Jacob's ladder. Once the survivors were safely on board, Andy, Ervin, and Richard led them down to the forward cabin and herded them inside, but that small space was filling up quickly. With the added weight, the
CG 36500
was now taking on a lot of water, and as captain of the boat, Bernie had to make a life-and-death decision.
Do we stop now and try to get the men we have safely back to shore? Or do we go for broke?
Webber decided that no man would be left behind. “We would all live, or we would all die,” he said later.

While the rescue was unfolding, the stern section of the
Pendleton
rolled deeply and increased its list to port, scraping mightily against the ocean floor. The lifeboat crew continued to take survivors aboard, squeezing them in anywhere they could. The engine compartment was now overflowing with human cargo, as was the area around the wheelman's shelter. Bernie fought for elbow room as he continued to make passes along the stricken tanker. He had to time his maneuvers perfectly, or the waves would send the lifeboat surging into the tanker hull and they'd all be swallowed by the sea.

*   *   *

Thirty-one survivors were now on board a vessel designed to carry only 12 men. Two men were still on the tanker's deck: Raymond Sybert, who as de facto captain of the stern would be the last man off, and Tiny Myers. Fitzgerald kept the searchlight on the beefy man as he made his way slowly down the Jacob's ladder. Myers was shirtless now, having given much of his own clothing to warm up other members of the
Pendleton
crew. The swells surrounding the ship had become even more violent at this point, making it a greater challenge for Bernie to steer the lifeboat.
Just a couple more, and we can get the hell outta here
, he thought.

Myers had made it halfway down the ladder when he suddenly slipped and fell into the ocean. He resurfaced seconds later, and the lifeboat crew tried frantically to pull him on board. “Come this way!” Andy yelled. Myers drifted over to the inboard side of the lifeboat and grabbed hold of the line. Richard Livesey then leaned far over the side of the vessel and reached for Myers's hand. The move nearly cost Livesey his life. Myers was so heavy and strong that he began to pull Richard down into the water. Ervin and Andy rushed over to help, grabbing hold of Livesey by the legs and waist to prevent him from being pulled overboard.

As they tried in vain to hoist Myers into the boat, the large man was swallowed by an even larger wave and disappeared from sight. A collective gasp of horror could be heard on the lifeboat as the survivors watched their friend be consumed by the sea. Bernie put the lifeboat in reverse and maneuvered away from the side of the ship. The
CG 36500
came around in a circle as Andy kept the spotlight shining on the cresting waves. They finally caught sight of Myers in the darkness.

Due to the angle of the stern, the three propeller blades were now sticking out of the water. The seas were picking up, and Webber knew that he'd have only one chance to save this man. He steered the bow of the lifeboat toward Myers and then eased slowly ahead. At that moment, Webber and crew felt the back of the boat rise up as a huge wave lifted the
CG 36500
and threw it against the ship. The lifeboat was now out of control and rushing toward Myers. Webber could see the panicked look in the man's eyes. Ervin Maske reached out and managed to grab hold of the man once more, but the lifeboat was careering toward the ship. A second later, they felt the sudden impact of a collision as the lifeboat slammed into the tanker, trapping Tiny Myers between them.

 

11

THIRTY-SIX MEN IN A 36-FOOT BOAT

Webber had tried desperately to avoid Tiny Myers as the lifeboat lurched forward. He even tried throwing the
CG 36500
in reverse, but that only stalled the engine once more. Ervin Maske was the last man to get ahold of Myers, and he paid a price for it. Maske's hands had been crushed in the collision, and he could feel the blood pumping in his fingertips, which were now beginning to swell. There would be no way to recover the body now. Webber tried to put the thought out of his mind. He successfully maneuvered the boat back to the ladder, rescuing the last man down, Raymond Sybert.

Andy Fitzgerald crawled back into the engine compartment in hopes of getting the motor going again. The lifeboat took another violent punch from a wave, throwing Andy back on top of the engine at the moment it restarted. Webber heard his comrade scream as the spark plugs burned his back. Bernie was about to send another crewmember into the compartment when Fitzgerald suddenly dragged himself out. Andy could feel the welts growing on his back, but otherwise he was okay. Webber and crew had conquered Chatham Bar, and getting the survivors off the
Pendleton
's stern was a huge accomplishment, but making it safely back to shore would have its own set of perils.

Drifting in the darkness and with no compass to guide them, Webber still had no idea exactly where they were. Also, he didn't know where the other coast guard boats were, but he understood that his vessel must have remained somewhere off Chatham or maybe somewhere to the south of Monomoy Island.
If I can just put the sea behind me and jog along, we'll end up in Nantucket Sound and eventually on the shallow water somewhere on Cape Cod
, he tried to convince himself. Bernie then relayed his plans to the rest of the men on board.

“If the boat all of a sudden stops, hit the beach,” he commanded. “Don't waste any time asking questions. Get off and help those who are hurt. Just get off as fast as you can!”

Webber felt that if he could get the boat's bow as close as possible to the storm-tossed beach and keep the engine going, the men would have the precious few moments they would need to get safely ashore. The survivors understood the plan perfectly. “We're with you, coxswain!” a shout came out. It was followed by a loud cheer from the
Pendleton
crew.