Deadliest Sea (26 page)

“Do you need anything?” the captain asked.

“We’re good,” Schmitz said. “We’re ready.”

Up on deck, the crew decided to use the already-set-up HIFR rig to refuel the aircraft. It was an unconventional move but would save time. Each time an aircraft fueled from the ship, two crew members were assigned to check the quality of the fuel. They had to test it for contamination both before and after each refueling to be sure it met “clear and bright” standards. Those two crew members were dressed in purple, rather than the standard blue coveralls worn by the tie-downs. During the entire refueling operation, one
Munro
fireman, dressed in a full-body flame-retardant suit, would remain on deck holding a fire extinguisher. The bulky suit is made of a crinkly silver material that from a distance resembles tin foil. Some of the ship’s officers referred to the trio as “two grapes and a baked potato.”

Schmitz headed back out to the flight deck. They’d take off again as soon as they had a full tank. The aircraft commander knew that without a swimmer, it would be near impossible to recover anyone who was severely hypothermic. But he figured that if his crew got back to the scene soon enough, they could recover Heller and keep going. And even if they couldn’t recover Heller, they could still lower the basket. A lucid survivor might be able to climb in on his own. More likely, though, they’d just be marking locations, helping to find people in the water and waiting for someone else to come to pull them out.

S
EVENTY MILES TO THE SOUTHEAST
, the Jacob’s Ladders were still hung over the side of the
Alaska Warrior
. In the moments after Steward Jeremy Freitag’s life raft reached the ship, a couple of guys had flung themselves at one of the ladders and managed to scramble up.

The recovery process had been improved since the first raft was recovered about forty minutes earlier. The
Warrior
’s deck crew sent down a line on a hook, and the raft was tied off to the ship. Then they pulled up the hook and lowered it again, this time with the ship’s life sling attached.

The life-saving device looked like a noose, made of wire coated with plastic. The ship carried it in case of a man overboard accident. In theory, a person in the water would pull the loop down over his upper body and hang his arms over the coated wire. When he was raised, the noose would pull tight, preventing him from falling through.

From inside the raft, Gwen Rains had watched the couple of men struggle up the ladder at the side of the boat. She felt like her range of motion was extremely limited. With her suit on, there was no way she’d be able to do what the men had done, to grab onto the Jacob’s Ladder and pull herself up by brute strength.

Gwen heard one of the Japanese technicians yelling at her from the other side of the raft. She crawled over to him. The Japanese man had the life sling in his hands. He motioned for Gwen to raise her arms.

Gwen would be the first one in her raft to be pulled up in the sling.

Please don’t drop me, she thought, as she flew up over the rail and landed smoothly on deck. She knew she was almost safe—almost home.

After seeing how efficient the life sling was, no one wanted to throw themselves at the side of a moving ship and potentially end up submerged in the water again.

Jeremy watched the people in his raft being pulled up, one after the other. It was quick. He was the second to last to go.

The life sling felt sturdy around him. He positioned himself right by the door. And then, up he went. He was flying. He felt great; it was almost fun. In seconds, Jeremy had two feet planted on the deck of the
Warrior
. It was the happiest moment of his life.

W
ARRIOR
C
HIEF
E
NGINEER
E
D
C
OOK
had been running back and forth between the wheelhouse and the deck of the ship as the
Ranger
crewmen were pulled up one after the other. He kept hoping to see his brother emerge from one of the rafts. But Dan Cook wasn’t in either one.

Ed went into the galley to check on the rescued fishermen.

“Hey, Chief, you made it!” one of the
Ranger
’s crew yelled when he saw the
Warrior
’s engineer walk in.

“No, man, that’s the short one,” someone corrected before Ed could say anything.

Ed was nervous. Then again this was less than half of the crew. There was still another raft, wasn’t there? And the Coast Guard had been out there for hours now. Maybe his brother was with the Coasties. Possibly he was even one of the guys stuffed inside that first helicopter, the one that had been hovering over their ship a couple hours earlier. Danny might be warming up on the Coast Guard cutter right at this moment.

Ed watched as the fisheries observers, Beth and Melissa, worked on the
Ranger
fishermen. They were taking off their suits and clothes. Those two girls were like angels of mercy, Ed
thought. They were drying the guys off and massaging them to try to get the blood flowing again. Just talking to them, trying to help them feel better—adding some calm to the chaos.

Beth stood over one of the rescued men. She had beautiful long hair that fell in auburn waves down toward the man’s chest. He was naked on the tabletop and in good enough shape to still be thinking like a guy who’s been on a ship for a few months.

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to—” he started.

She looked down at him. “What? Make your dreams come true?” Beth smiled. “I’m not gonna do it!”

Everyone laughed. Most of the guys knew that when a man falls overboard, the recommended treatment when he is pulled up is to strip him down and for someone else to get naked too, and lay against him, maybe inside a sleeping bag or under a pile of blankets. Body heat is said to rewarm more efficiently than anything else. Naturally, having a woman in the equation made the whole process seem a lot more appealing.

Up in the wheelhouse, Captain Scott Krey kept scanning the waves. The
Warrior
had saved twenty-two people out of the two rafts, including both of the
Ranger
’s government observers. Between the two helicopters, the Coasties had reportedly rescued another eighteen guys. That left seven men still unaccounted for. Most of the
Ranger
’s crew had abandoned ship around 4:15
A.M
. It was now after 8:00
A.M
. Everyone else out there had been in the water for a long time—and would almost certainly be in worse shape than any of those rescued so far.

B
ACK INSIDE THE
D
OLPHIN HELICOPTER’S
six-man life raft, rescue swimmer Abe Heller was focusing on keeping his survivors awake. The three men he’d gotten into the small raft had most likely been in the water for more than three hours. The last man—
Samasoni Fa’aulu, a big Samoan guy everyone called Sam—had been particularly difficult to get into the shelter. He was weak from cold, just dead weight in the water. It took Heller almost ten minutes to push him up and into the life raft. Processor Julio Morales and Assistant Cook Mark Hagerman were already inside, trying to help haul up Sam. Heller went under and tried pushing up on the bulk of the man’s survival suit with the top of his head. Finally, the three of them wrestled the Samoan into the raft.

After the 65 Dolphin flew away, Heller had pulled out his EPIRB. He turned it on and attached it to a Velcro patch on the top of his helmet. He could hear the Herc above him and glimpsed the plane now and then through the snow squalls.

In the distance, Heller could see the light of a ship. He hopped back out into the water and pulled out his radio. From his seated position inside the raft, it was difficult to access his gear. And though the craft was designed for six, it was crowded with just four.

“
Alaska Warrior
. I’m a Coast Guard rescue swimmer,” Heller said into his waterproof VHF. “I’m in a raft with three hypothermic survivors.”

The reply was broken, but Heller got the gist. The ship was busy hauling people out of the
Ranger
’s life rafts.

They’d get there when they could. It might not be soon.

Heller climbed back inside the shelter. The basket-shaped raft wasn’t inflated that well, and some water had accumulated on its floor. It seemed sturdy enough, though. The biggest challenge was keeping the fishermen from drifting off to sleep. Sam was in the worst shape.

Julio was also trying to talk to Sam and keep him alert. The two men had been together at the Grand Aleutian hotel before boarding the
Ranger
for the first time just three weeks before.
They’d been sleeping in the same bunk room since then, eating meals together.

For a while, Heller made an effort to get the fishermen talking, to keep their spirits up. He offered the men a candy bar he had stuck in a pocket of his dry suit and tried to give them some good news: “I know another helicopter got a lot of you guys. A bunch of people are okay on the Coast Guard ship.”

But the men responded to most of Heller’s questions with one-word answers. Every once in a while he shone his flashlight into Sam’s face; he had to do something to keep the guy awake. The fishermen didn’t want to talk, and Heller wasn’t really in the mood for chatting, either. He was exhausted and also feeling a little sick. He’d been slapped around by the waves in the course of the rescue and had swallowed a lot of seawater.

Still, the fishermen were obviously in much rougher shape. Man, I never want to be on a sinking boat, Heller thought to himself. The swimmer was concerned about preserving the battery power on his handheld radio. He could still hear the C-130 overhead. He knew his helo crew would have taken his position when they left the scene. What was the point of getting out the radio again? He’d just be telling those guys what they already knew—that he was here with some fishermen, and that they needed to be rescued.

The sky was just beginning to brighten when Heller heard the rotors.

He thought again about pulling out his radio. I can’t tell them anything they’re not going to figure out by looking at us, he told himself. He jumped back into the water and told Julio and Mark to help him pull Sam back into the ocean. By the time the 60 Jayhawk was overhead, Heller had swum with Sam away
from the raft. As soon as the helo was in a hover, Heller gave his fellow Coasties the thumbs-up.

They were ready for pickup.

D
AYLIGHT WAS BREAKING, AND THE SEAS
began to calm. From the
Warrior
’s wheelhouse, Captain Scott spotted something in the water. A splotch of red in the waves—a survival suit. As the ship got closer, Scott could tell there was someone inside. The captain aimed for the suit and slowed his speed as the ship drew near.

Ed Cook went down to the rail. It was a man in the water, all right, floating on his back. His face seemed to be several inches beneath the surface. The man’s eyes were open. His mouth, too.

It was Pete Jacobsen. Captain Pete.

Ed knew the captain was a longtimer with the Fishing Company of Alaska. He was close to retirement age now, maybe sixty-five years old. Ed had never heard anyone have a harsh word for the man. Jesus, he thought. Pete, man, just hold on.

It took a dozen men, Ed among them, to pull the
Ranger
’s captain on board the
Warrior
. As the body came up alongside the ship, the men threw a grappling hook to draw it closer to the hull. Even from the wheelhouse, Scott could tell that Pete’s survival suit was full of water. The captain was a tiny man, but even with a bunch of guys hauling, they couldn’t get him up. It was taking forever. Finally, Ed grabbed a knife and slit the legs of Pete’s suit. The water poured out. They got him on board, and then the captain was carried to the
Warrior
’s galley.

Eric Haynes heard a commotion outside. People were arguing about whether to bring the man just recovered from the water down to the factory or into the galley. The crew was getting upset.

“Bring him in here,” Eric ordered. “Bring him into the galley.”

The crew did as Eric said and laid the
Ranger
’s captain out on a galley table in his mutilated survival suit.

Eric turned Pete’s head.

He was gone. There was no doubt in Eric’s mind. He could tell by Pete’s eyes: They were blank, with no clarity. His suit looked way too big. The captain was sopping wet.

They’d move the body down to the factory. It was too upsetting to see Captain Pete there in the galley, where some of the fishermen were still struggling to warm up.

As Pete Jacobsen was being carried downstairs, Ed heard someone yell that there was another person off the starboard bow.

The
Warrior
’s chief engineer approached the bow rail. About thirty yards off the starboard, Ed saw the body.

“God man, this is a big guy,” he said under his breath. “God. Man.”

Ed was breathing hard. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to see what was coming. He left the deck and climbed up to the wheelhouse as the man was pulled aboard. After a few minutes he got up his courage and headed back downstairs to the galley.

He got there just as the men were carrying the large body inside.

“Don’t look, Chief. It’s your brother,” a crewman said.

Ed walked toward the body.

“I have to look,” he told his crewmates.

The man was still in a jumbo-size survival suit. The crew were holding him like pallbearers. Ed moved toward them and pulled back the flap over the man’s face. He looked like he was just asleep, like maybe you could shake him and wake him up.

“Yeah,” Ed said, as a dozen of the crew stood around the body. Ed’s eyes grew wet. His voice cracked as he said aloud what everyone already knew: “That’s my brother. That’s my little brother Danny.”

Q
UICKLY, THE CREW MADE A DECISION
: They’d bring Dan Cook down to the factory, too. The
Ranger
’s engineer was six foot two and close to 280 pounds. In the suit, he was too big to get down through the stairwell. They strapped him to the litter that they kept on board in case a crew member had to be medevaced off the ship. Then they opened a hatch, lowered Dan Cook through it, and laid him on the metal packing table in the factory, near Captain Pete.