Voyage of the 3070

The CGR 3070 was hove to, riding out a gale, when the hurricane struck her. For a sickening moment she lay down on her side until her masts dipped into the sea. The two men on her deck grabbed lifelines and hung on. The 3070 righted herself, rolled over the other way. Her mizzenmast carried away with a crash. The 3070 floundered on across the whooping Atlantic like a drunk on a merry-go-round.

Below, the cabin had suddenly become a welter of men, clothes, dishes, gear. Water pouring down her hatch had hurled the skipper bodily out of the chartroom and into the galley. Around the cabin, like dice in a box, skittered 50-lb. chunks of lead ballast. A potbellied stove, torn from its moorings, crushed the ribs of Seaman James T. Watson. There were five other men below. They tried to lash things down and ladle the water out. The men on deck tried to clear the wreckage of the mizzenmast. The 3070 lurched wildly on.

Help! Before she became a Coast Guard Reserve boat, the 3070 was the yacht Zaida, property of the famed yacht sailmaker, George E. Ratsey (who died in New Rochelle after a long illness last week). She is a sleek, 58-ft. yawl, built for racing. Since October she had been in the Coast Guard's offshore patrol, hunting subs. Skipper Curtis Arnall in civilian life was a radio actor and well-known yachtsman; his mate, 33-year-old Joseph Choate, left a job at New York's Guaranty Trust Co. to join the Coast Guard; none of the 3070's crew had had more than a few months in the service. The 3070 was not designed for this kind of work. Over the wireless telephone, which was petering out, the 3070 called for help.

That was Dec. 3, off Nantucket. At noon of the next day a British destroyer located her off the tip of Cape Cod. The seas were running too high to take anyone off, but the Britisher took her in tow and headed for Halifax. But the adventures of the 3070 had only begun. Seaman Toivo Koskinen was on deck trying to rig a chafing gear when a wave swept him overboard. Another wave picked him up and swept him back. This time a shipmate grabbed him. In the blackness of night the towline snapped; the destroyer was lost to sight. The 3070 wallowed on, lost and helpless.

The injured Watson was lashed in a bunk, where he chewed aspirin to kill the pain of his broken ribs. The drinking water had salt in it. Food supplies ran short. Cigarets were soaked, so the crew smoked dried tea leaves and fresh coffee rolled in pages torn from the Bluejacket's Manual. The auxiliary engine was useless. It was impossible to sail her. Day after day, a chip in a maelstrom, the 3070 tossed on the heaving Atlantic, battered by soft. waves, driven by the whims of one storm after another.

Hunt. As far as her would-be rescuers knew, the 3070 had vanished. Vice Admiral Adolphus A. Andrews of the Eastern Sea Frontier took personal charge of the hunt for her. British and Canadian planes, PBY planes, Flying Fortresses and patrol boats scoured the grey ocean. At last, on Dec. 9, a faint wireless voice was heard from the 3070. But she could not give her position, and before she could be located another hurricane swept along the New England coast.

A week later a Flying Fortress spotted her off Nags Head, N.C. The Fortress dropped a sack of food on a parachute, but the sack split when it hit the water. Before rescue boats could get to the 3070 another storm billowed along the coast, and she vanished like the Flying Dutchman. For five more days she went unsighted. Then, on Dec. 23, a Coast Guard cutter saw her 25 miles off Ocracoke Inlet, N.C., just before she disappeared into a rain squall.

But the 3070 was nearing the end of her travail. That same afternoon, while the North Carolina coast swarmed with aircraft and boats, a blimp located the 3070 and kept her in sight. Two patrol boats finally got alongside. An exhausted, bruised, unshaven crew was taken off and flown to New York. A relief crew brought the 3070 safely to port. In her erratic course she had covered some 3,100 miles in 21 days, had been the object of one of the biggest hunts in maritime history. At week's end, while her crew recovered, the ships and planes of the Eastern Sea Frontier went back to hunting submarines.

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