Again, Fried

Last week a whole westerly gale with a velocity of 65 miles per hour whipped the North Atlantic into mighty combers. Seven hundred miles off the Virginia Capes wallowed the little Italian freighter Florida, bound for Naples. Its steering gear was broken, it was inundated by ferocious seas. For four days the crew lived on fruit and water. Frantically Capt. Giuseppe Favaloro flashed SOS signals. Several nearby vessels received them. But, not having radio compasses, which indicate the direction from which signals come, these ships could not locate the Florida.

More than 350 miles northward was the America, 21,000-ton steamship of the U. S. Lines, bound for Manhattan. Capt. George Fried, commanding, turned to the rescue. The America's radio compass (a Kolster) contradicted the reports of position sent by Capt. Favaloro, but Capt. Fried followed his compass. All night long he sailed against tumultuous waters. During that night the bridge of the Florida, with all navigating books and instruments, went overboard. Capt. Favaloro managed to keep a sextant. In the morning he took his bearings, radioed them to Capt. Fried. The master of the America calculated them with his own navigating tables. The resulting position tallied with that indicated by the radio compass.

All day long sailed Capt. Fried. At nightfall his searchlights revealed the Florida dead ahead. A miracle had been accomplished by radio science. The Florida, listing sharply, with one rail under water, had been changing its position constantly because its engines were still slowly turning over. But Fried and his Kolster were in time.

Capt. Fried lowered a lifeboat manned by young Chief Officer Harry Manning and eight oarsmen from the crew. The bow oar spoke Italian. In a shrieking wind, a tortured sea, the lifeboat drew near the Florida. The bow oar translated Officer Manning's commands to the derelict crew. The lifeboat stood off 50 feet, imperiled by wash from the listing vessel, and took off 32 men, with Capt. Favaloro last. Some of the men had prepared knives and poison to commit suicide. They were starved, half-naked, half-crazy. Capt. Fried and Officer Manning got them all aboard the America, landed them in Manhattan.

It was the second time Capt. Fried had entered port a hero. Three years ago, when master of the President Roosevelt, he rescued 25 men from the foundering British tramp steamer Antinoee after three and one-half days of labor.

This conquering lover of the loud ocean was born in 1877 near the murmuring mills of Worcester, Mass. He is silver-haired and very shy. After the Antinoee disaster, the wife of the rescued captain tried to thank Rescuer Fried. "It is only one of the little things that happen at sea," he said.