The Daring Coast Guard Rescue of the Pendleton Crew
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About this ebook
Theresa Mitchell Barbo
Theresa M. Barbo is the founding director of the annual Cape Cod Maritime History Symposium, partnered with the Cape Cod Museum of Natural History, now in its fifteenth year. She presents illustrated lectures on maritime history and contemporary marine public policy before civic groups and educational audiences. Her area of expertise in merchant marine research is on nineteenth-century Cape Cod sea captains when American deep water skippers ruled global maritime commerce. She holds bachelor of arts and master of arts degrees from the University of Massachusetts Dartmouth and has studied executive integral leadership at the University of Notre Dame. Captain Webster is a maritime historian who specializes in Cape Cod, area rescues. Webster retired from the U.S. Coast Guard in 2003 after serving twenty-six years' military service. While in the Coast Guard, Webster was Group Woods Hole rescue commander from 1998 to 2001 and led his service's operational response to the John F. Kennedy Jr. and Egypt Air 990 crashes. He is a graduate of the U.S. Coast Guard Academy, Naval Postgraduate School in Monterey, California, and the Naval War College in Newport, Rhode Island, and holds a master of science in systems technology and a master of arts in national strategic studies. Webster is New England's first Preparedness Coordinator for FEMA in Boston, where he coordinates with states, communities and individuals to better prepare for both man-made and natural disasters.
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The Daring Coast Guard Rescue of the Pendleton Crew - Theresa Mitchell Barbo
Authors
CHAPTER 1
JACK’S SNOWY MORNING
On February 18, 1952, ten-year-old Jack Nickerson of Chatham awoke to a flurry of white snow outside his bedroom window.
He sat up and peeked outside the frosty window, his hand holding the blue checked curtain to the side for a better view. Fresh snow the color of flour clung to the sides of his house. Bits of snow had crept beneath many of the gray-brown shingles. The scene reminded Jack of his father using a hammer and nails to hang a large picture on the wall for his mother. That’s the way the snow looked—like a pretty picture on the side of their clapboard and shingle house.
Even the other windows were dotted with a fresh thin layer of white. The heat from inside the home melted a neat circle in each windowpane. No dirt in the yard was visible because every inch was covered. From the tops of bushes next to the pantry window, the snowfall measured at least a foot.
Jack thought his house looked like a penny postcard, like the ones sold at the Ben Franklin General Store on Main Street that the tourists from Boston buy every summer.
And to Jack’s delight, the storm was hardly over. Snow continued to fall and snowflakes hung in the air, silent and beautiful.
Jack wiped the sleep from his hazel eyes. He shifted his attention from the window next to his bed to the floor. In the doggie bed was Sinbad, a big yellow dog. Sinbad lazily opened one eye and wagged his tail twice at Jack. Sinbad had been Jack’s companion since he was five years old. They went everywhere together, except, of course, to Jack’s school.
Sinbad was named for the famous Coast Guard mascot of the same name that a ship’s crew adopted in 1938. There was even a book about the first Sinbad published a few years ago. Jack had a copy in his bookcase.
Morning, Sinbad,
Jack said cheerily. How are ya, boy?
Jack stretched his arms and yawned. He brushed aside the brown hair that had fallen onto his forehead as Sinbad yawned and fell back asleep, his large head snuggled against a plaid cushion.
Jack lay back down and pulled his bed sheet, a red wool blanket and three homemade quilts up to his chin. Jack especially loved the red blanket because his granny had sewn his initials into the border: JEN, for John Eldredge Nickerson.
Last night, Jack had complained there were too many blankets on his bed. But when she tucked him in, Granny Lucille Eldredge, his mother’s mother, suggested that by morning he would be grateful for the extra warmth.
You weren’t born when the ‘five-quilt’ winter of 1905 nearly froze us to death on Cape Cod,
she said.
Granny was right. Jack was glad for the extra layers. The temperature was far below freezing, and the extra blankets had kept him toasty. Granny had even brought in an extra blanket from the work shed for Sinbad’s bed. In fact, it was Granny who had given Sinbad to Jack five years before. Jack and Sinbad had grown up together. They were bonded like two peas in a pod. At least that’s what everyone said.
Jack tried to sleep for a few more minutes. He burrowed into the covers to keep warm. But Jack couldn’t close his eyes again.
He had too much on his mind.
Jack figured school was cancelled because his mother, Mary, had not awoken him earlier either to eat or do chores. That meant he had the day to himself!
His young mind suddenly raced with possibility, as fast as the Old Colony Railroad on its way from Chatham to Orleans. Maybe he would tag along with his dad on errands to town. Or hang out with his best friend, George Sears, a neighbor. George had the coolest train set. It was made by Lionel. Together the boys had spent many hours together playing with the set. George had received it from Santa last year.
If they didn’t play with trains, he and George might take Sinbad sledding at Chatham Bars Inn. That is, if he could avoid shoveling the front and back walks at the house.
George’s and Jack’s mothers were cousins. And the women were close friends—best friends, in fact. They spent a lot of time together, which meant that Jack and George grew up like brothers. Their mothers, Mary Nickerson and Kathleen Sears, were together often. Sometimes it was just for tea or coffee at the kitchen table. Jack and George would come home from school and find their mothers together, visiting,
as they called it.
In the spring, Mrs. Sears and Mrs. Nickerson helped each other with