Hurricane: North Atlantic

Interview Contact: Edwin Greenlaw

He is a pleasant man who lives in Sunset, Maine. He was a sea captain who has experienced many adventures, and the following is about a hurricane he experienced while at sea.

The date was September 21, 1922 and I will never forget it. I was assigned Second Officer to a ship called the MONOMAC. We had discharged a cargo of tobacco and case goods in Bristol, Liverpool, England and started on our return voyage to Philadelphia. The ship recieved advisory from the weather bureau alerting all ships in the North Atlantic of a dangerous hurricane crossing the Atlantic with increasing intensity. The captain changed course hoping to avoid the fury of the storm.

At midnight, I relieved the Third Officer of his watch. He remarked that it had been blowing and that the sea had been rough, but he thought that the worst was over. I glanced at the barometer and it was pulsating over a space of two inches. I informed the captain [that] the winds velocity had increased. [He] ordered [the engine] to half speed which meant the ship was only proceeding at about five or six miles an hour.

The wind screamed like a thousand banshees. The ship lurched and tipped so far at times I was sure that it would roll over. An American flag passenger ship some hundred miles distance radioed that the wind was blowing in excess of 125 miles per hour.

A four-ton spare anchor had been ripped from [The MONOMAC] deck fastening and was rolling from side to side across the forward deck. It would only be a question of time before the deck plating would be punctured and the forward compartments flooded with water. During a brief lull before the storm increased intensity, I managed to secure it with rope lashings through one of the mooring bits.

For six hours the hurricane continued to increase intensity. The ship labored in the heavy sea mountainous waves. At six a.m. the wind abated; we had survived the storm but not without its damage. Water in the forward holes, water in all the state rooms and in the dining quarters. At seven a.m. we lost the ship's propeller... we were now totally disabled.

The captain had sent out a radio distress call. All the ships in or near the vicinity where asked to come to our aid. The steamship BALLEMINA responded, and two days later had us in tow for Philadelphia. We were towed a distance of 1760 miles. In the meantime, we were out of food during the final days our food was taken from emergency rations in the life boats.

Upon arrival to Philadelphia, provisions were waiting for us on the dock and we had our first good meal in several days. The ship was returned to the government for layout. It's doubtful if it was ever placed back in service.

Our usual voyage from English ports to American ports were 13 or 14 days at [the] most, according to the weather. But this time, from the time we left England to the time we arrived in Philadelphia, our voyage was twenty-six days.

Kimberly Webb