The DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware, makers of better things for better living through chemistry, presents the Cavalcade of America. Tonight's play, The Gig of the Saginaw. Let's star Gary Merrill as Cox and Halford. Eighteen hundred miles west of Hawaii, a pinpoint in the vastness of the Pacific, stands Midway Island. It was this far frontier, barely known to most Americans before World War II, that provided our armed forces with their most effective advanced base against the enemy. As early as the year 1870, American naval planners had pinpointed Midway as a strategic asset had dispatched the USS Saginaw to set up a calling station on the tiny island. This is the story of the men of the Saginaw, the men who gave us Midway. It had been a burning hot six months on Midway, but now the calling station was up and we were once again at sea and with luck and a fair wind, we'd have Christmas dinner in San Francisco. On this first night out, Quartermaster Francis was at the wheel as I came up to relieve him. Cox and Halford ready to relieve the wheel, Quartermaster. And welcome you all to it, Pete. Lieutenant Tarbett, sir. Yes, Quartermaster. Four snows by east, both paddles ahead, one third. Helms relieved. Good night, sir. Good night. And where's the justice in that, eh, Pete? Justice in what? Me having to say yes, sir, and no, sir, to a lad that's got a floss where his beard ought to be. The lieutenant's all right. Yeah, he's wet behind the ears. Night. Night. Who has the wheel? Cox and Halford, sir. Well, mind your helm tonight. Steer nothing to the south. Nothing to the south. Aye, aye, sir. Stormy was a fine old man to Midway, oh, storm alone. Oh, Stormy, he is dead and gone to Midway, oh, storm. Evening, Cox and. Oh, evening, Captain. I haven't heard that shanty in many a moon. Oh, storm alone? Well, it's still being sung on the clippers. Die and race, Cox and, the clipper ships and the men who sail them. Lieutenant Talbot, may I see you? Aye, aye, sir. You don't agree, do you, Cox? About the clipper ships? No, sir, I don't agree. I think men will be shipping out under sail long after every one of these steam kettles has blown itself to kingdom come. We'll see, we'll see. Lieutenant, the wind seems to have freshened. It has in the last hour, sir. If the wind picks up any more, we may set in towards Ocean Island. You better watch for it. Aye, aye, sir. Ahoy, the mast heads! Mast heads, ahoy! Sharp watch tonight! Report land or breakers on the starboard bow as soon as sighted! Sharp watch it is, sir! How's that gang of contractors doing, Lieutenant? Well, I've stowed them up forward, sir. They seem content enough. As well, they might be after six months on Midway Island. Yes, and one might ask why the Navy has spent all that time and money on a useless spit of sand like Midway Island. Why, Mr. Talbot? For good and sufficient reason. It may look like a barren waste to you, sir, but to those who can see beyond the tip of their nose, Midway Island is a link and a chain that will bind our trading ship with all the wealth of Asia. Maybe not now, but in time to come, Midway will be a good parcel of land to own. Break out your atlas some evening and you'll see why, Mr. Talbot. Aye, aye, sir. I'll be in my cabin if you raise land. Pleasant to be headed home again, isn't it, Coxsons? A voyage home is always pleasant, sir, even if it is by steamboat with soot to foul the air and smoke to filthy the sky. The USS Saginaw was a wooden paddlewheel bark, a mule of a ship. Neither horse nor donkey, as they say, a half-breed of the sea. She carried her canvas smart enough, but the wooden paddlewheels tucked to her side gave her the look of a barnyard hen waddling through the brine. She was cranky, ill-tempered, and trouble was built into her timbre. A couple of hours later, I was still at the wheel. The wind was much stronger now, and Lieutenant Talbot sent for the captain. What is it, Talbot? You might be in for a gale, sir. You'd better trim some sail. Aye, aye, sir. What's your course? North by east. You'd better stand into the wind. Aye, aye, sir. I think... A whore in the deck! Breakers ahead! Breakers ahead! Breakers! All engines, full back! We're away! Three cables, down ahead! The reefs, port the helm, full over! Full over, she is, sir! The reefs, we're right on them! Hard over the helm! Hard! Hard! We hit! We hit! All hands on deck! All hands on deck! All of you, put it from up there! All hands on deck! We piled on the reef, and within minutes the ship's company was massed on deck. All present, make your reports. Well, Stoban forward, keel smashed, all cargo forward flooded. The ship's working on a reef pretty badly, sir. Engineering? All engineering space flooded, sir. Second division? Rudder's gone, lower gudgeon carried away. Very well. Return to your divisions. Boatswain, all hands to move stores topside. Get everything you can. We're an abandoning ship. It was a night not soon forgotten. The wind howled down from the north, and every blast helped the reef to tube deeper into the timber of the ship's bottom. By some miracle, we salvaged a goodly amount of stores, piled them into the boats, headed over the reef towards Ocean Island. This morning, Captain Saccard called us together. Mr. Talbot, have you inventoried the stores? Just finished, sir. If we go easy, we should have enough food for three months, maybe four. And the water? Not a drop on the island. But we've set the evaporator up, and we can feed it with wood from the wreck. It's to be used for drinking only. That's an order. Captain, sir. What is it? How long do you figure it'll be before they miss us in Honolulu and send out a search party? I'm going to be honest with you, all of you. We weren't due in California until January. They won't miss us until February. And we can't expect a ship here until March. That's six months. Six months? Our stores won't last half that long. No, they won't. We're not going to wait for rescue. Luckily, the Saginaw is fast on the reef. We're going to pull her apart and build another ship. Small, she'll be cramped and crowded, but we'll sail her to Honolulu. And you can take my word for that. Now, that's the plan. I'll tolerate no skylarking. Every man is to do his share, or so help me. When we launch our ship, we'll leave them here to rot. We set up the jib boom on the highest sand dune and nailed a flag of distress to it. From the ship's timber, we built a lookout and manned it around the clock. It was the third day on Ocean Island that Lieutenant Talbot, Quartermaster Francis and myself took the mid-morning watch on the tower. You stand your watch and peer into nothing, knowing that nothing will come this way. Not so much as a lonesome whale. You never can tell. A traitor might pass. It's a fine game of make-believe we're playing, Lieutenant. Make-believe? Aye, sir, make-believe. You saying a traitor might pass, and the captain getting the men to scramble around playing at building a boat. You don't think it can be done? I know it can't be done. Not in six months, not in double that time with the tools we have. We'll all be chewing sand before the ribs are warped. And that's a fact. It's a chance to get off. The only chance. Oh? Well, there's another, and it's right down there on the beach. A bit bashed into the gunnels, but she can be repaired. A gig? She's seaworthy, and with a good hand at the tiller, she could make Hawaii. 1,200 miles in an open boat? It would be suicide. So? Ninety men on a sand dune with little food and no water. What would you call that? It's a mad idea. We could deck the gig over, and I have a sail plan in mind. Have you talked of this to anyone else? No, sir. Then don't. And that goes for you, Francis. Aye, aye, sir. It was Sunday after church service that Captain Sikard sent for me. When I got to his tent, Lieutenant Talbot was with him. Lieutenant Talbot tells me that you have some doubts about our being able to build a ship that'll take us off the island. Aye, sir. I have my doubts. Don't you? The men have got to be kept busy. They've got to work and think they have a chance. Otherwise, well, with hope gone and just waiting for death, they'd be savages in no time. Has the lieutenant mentioned the gig, sir? He has. I told the captain everything, Cotson. Suppose we did fit the gig out. Got her seaworthy. What makes you think you can sail at 1,800 miles to Hawaii? How would you keep your course? I can use a sexton, sir. We've only one, and I've got to keep that here in the hopes that we'll be able to build a ship and sail her off. Well, I'm a fair hand with tools, sir. I've put my hands on a steam gauge quadrant from the boiler room. With that, a little fixing and a bit of the wardroom mirror, I can fix up a sexton. True little be, but good enough. You've got a lot of answers, Cotson. Aye, sir. If you'll pardon me, sir, I've got a question, too. Let's have it. What's there to be lost if we try? Your life and the lives of those that go with you. Risking five to save 90? That's a fair enough gamble. I couldn't see myself giving the order that to put a man aboard. No need for orders, sir. I'm volunteering. With your permission, I'd like to volunteer, too, Captain. I'll get the crew. Each a volunteer. You'll be swamped and under before you're 200 miles out. Well, sir, mean in no disrespect, I don't agree. And even if it turns out that way, I'd rather meet Davy Jones with wet britches than have my bones picked over by sandflies. Will you let us go, sir? Mr. Talbot. Sir? Make ready the gig. We'll sail within the week. You're listening to the DuPont Cavalcade of America, starring Gary Merrill. And now Bill Hamilton, speaking for the DuPont Company. Did you ever get a grease spot on your clothing from brushing against the edge of your car door? Well, something is being done to prevent that. DuPont nylon plastic wedges are now being used in place of the usual metal ones that keep car doors from rattling. Nylon wedges wear as well or better than metal and require no grease. No grease on the door. No grease on your clothes. Once again, a familiar product has been made better with nylon. One of the DuPont Company's better things for better living through chemistry. And now we return to our cavalcade play, the gig of the Saginaw, starring Gary Merrill as Cox and Peter Halford. November the 18th, 1870. I'm reading now from the little log I kept with a stub of pencil and a sheet of paper torn from the back of a seaman's Bible. November 18th, 1870. On this day we left Ocean Island. There are five of us aboard the gig, Lieutenant Talbot, Watermaster Francis, Seaman John Andrews and James Muir, and myself. We have 1800 miles to Hawaii. We'll stand our watches in rotation, four-hour tricks and all hands up in stormy weather. Now we need a cook. Any volunteers? Ah, what's there to cook? Canned mashed potatoes and coffee. Well, with good hot coffee we could sail this gig around the Horn itself. You're in a rare mood. Aye, and why not? Shipping under sail again. It takes me back to 51 it does. You remember, Quartermaster, we shipped together. We did both green as Falmouth Clover. Ah, well I do remember. The flying cloud, the queen of the clippers. Eighty-nine days around the Horn to the Golden Gate. What a ship. It was a day as crystal clear as this that we peaked the anchor. Remember, Quartermaster? I do, and I can still hear the dulcet tones of Captain Jotaiya P. Creasy. On the footsail you are there if you cut that gasket out and fit your skull with an anchor like that. Be passing the drift, you lover. Port up there, over all your front lines. All right now, you chatty-mots, strike a light, make it a fist in your locker. Oh, I wish I was old stormy sun. To me way, oh storm along, I'll build me a ship of a thousand tons. To me way, to me way, to me way. To me way, to me way. To me way, to me way. The first week was pleasant enough. We were crowded, but we managed to stay out of each other's way and keep our spirits high. One week out, November 25th, 1870, and I took a sighting on the hand-made sextant. What do you make it out, Coxon? 21 degrees, 19 minutes north latitude. That should put us on a straight compass line to Honolulu. Quartermaster. Aye, sir. Course due east. Nothing to the north, nothing to the south. Due east it is, sir. If we stay on our course, we'll ride right into the arms of Manalua. What's your guess on a landfall? Well, barren squalls and coms, three weeks. Three weeks? Well, that doesn't sound too long now, does it? No, sir. As a man counts time on the sea, it isn't very long at all. For a week we had fair sailing and we logged a creditable number of miles per day. But the tenth day out, the wind shifted. The sea rose on its haunches, and it rained as I've never seen rain before. Andrews! Muir, lay to it on that bailing! We can't keep up, sir. Water's over the fire bricks now and still rising. Well, keep at it. Quartermaster, can't you keep her steady into the wind we're taking on water? Oh, if I can do the best I'm able, sir, she's stranded. We'd better get a sea anchor out, sir. Can you rig one? Aye, by lashing together the oars. But it's risky if the cable parts and we lose the oars. Well, let's not worry about that now, Cox, and rig it up and get it out. Aye, aye, sir. Here, I'll give you a hand. We ever have to come in through the surf without these oars? Lash them tight. Tight as you can. All right. That's as taut as we can get it. All right. Over with them. Stand aside, Quartermaster. She's turning into the wind. Lieutenant, watch the boom. Down, Lieutenant, the boom. On overboard. Man overboard. All right, bring the kink about. I'm going to net. Bring it about. Muter, throw a line out to him. Aye, sir. Get out of the car. All right, he's got the line. All the way. All right. All right, Linda, get him aboard. Easy. Easy now. I got him. Thank you. I got him. Give a hand at the caution. I'm all right. It's a nasty gash, Lieutenant has. All right. Lash him to the deck and then get below and bail. Bail, do you hear me? We'll all be feeding fishes by the morning. I count among the miracles of all times the fact that our gig kept from being swamped time and time again that devilish night. But somehow it did. And by daybreak, the rain had stopped. The wind died out. The sea was suddenly calm. Morning brought the sun, a hot, blaring stroke of fire on a sea as smooth as a shiny silver doll. While the others slept, I checked the gig for damages. Then I made my way forward to where Lieutenant Talbot was lashed to the deck. Morning, Alfred. Morning, sir. How's the head? I feel as though I've been bashed in by the boom. That sure were. Huh? Doesn't look too bad. Here, I'll wash it clean. How did we come through, Coxon? Well, the gig weathered it fairly well. But we lost the sea anchor. The oars. That's bad. Aye. But I've been below inventorying the supplies. Now, that's even worse, sir. What happened? Well, the cans were all rusty as it was. The banging they took was too much for them. They were all split open and fouled with seawater. All the supplies? All but a couple of cans of beans, two gallons of water. We've got at least two more weeks of sailing. At least. But it's always surprising how far the Navy can sail in a can of beans. We'll manage. Now, lift your head and take a swig of this water. Alfred. Sir? I'm turning over the command to you. I'm not in fit shape. We should be doing fine in a day or two. You take command. Aye, sir, if you say so. Now, lift your head. No, no water for me. But, Lieutenant... That's the last order I give on this craft. And I want it obeyed. No water for me. It would only be wasted. For another week, the second week out, we all managed to keep in fairly good trim. The rain squalls gave us some water, and the quartermaster proved a fair hand with the fishing line. Even Lieutenant Talbot seemed to gain a bit in strength. You handled the gig well, Alfred. We're not in port yet. If we come through this alive, will you ever go back to sea again? Will I go back to sea again? Where else might I go? Where else can a sea ferryman go? Put back to the sea. Life puts prison bars around a man, but it's only the sea that sets him free. No walls, no bars, no signs that read, don't trespass. For men who live by the sea, they die in the sea. Of course I'll come back. The next day, the wind died into nothing. The sail flapped loosely. There was no rain. No fish would take the quartermaster's hook. For 14 long, empty days, we drifted. One by one, the sea took its toll. Andrews and Muir turned their faces to the deck and lay motionless. Lieutenant Talbot barely stirred. I was at the tiller as the first light dawned on the morning of December 7th, 1870. Coxen. Coxen. Yes, Francis? Look there. Land. Land. Yes, I've heard the breakers all night. We're almost in port, quartermaster. Make for the land. No. Make for the land. We can't. There's no way through the reef. We'd wreck ourselves if we tried to get in without oars. Oh, there'll be water there. We can make it to Honolulu, a day or two more. Land here. Do you hear me, Coxen? Land here, I'll skin your life. Put down that knife. Get back. Get back. Give me the tiller. Give me the tiller or I'll kill you, so help me. Quartermaster, stand fast. Keep out of this, lieutenant. Put that knife or I'll shoot. Ay, you young squirt. Put down that gun. Get back. For the last time I warn you, get back. Land. There's land and we're sailing by. We're sailing by. We're sailing by. We inched past the reefs with a beggarly wind and the sight of land clawed at us all that day. Then night fell, a weird, terrible night. The quartermaster said not a word, nor the lieutenant, nor Muir, nor Andrews. I piloted a ship, a dead ship, with a ghastly silent crew. About midnight, out of all that vast emptiness, suddenly there came sound. Quartermaster. Quartermaster, listen. Get up. Listen. Chimmy way, oh star- Listen. Listen, breakers. Breakers. We must be kawaii. We're drifting in. I can't fight the helm. Get to the mast and spread the foot of that sail. Breakers. Do as I say. If the gig broaches, we're done for. Breakers. Get to the mast. We're swinging. We're broaching. We're going over. Jump. Jump. Clear. Some native fishermen picked me up the following morning. They took me to their little hut, dried me out, and nursed a spark of life back into me. By the next day, I'd told my story, and one of the fishermen paddled off to Honolulu. The rescue mission was on its way in jig time to pick up the eighty-six survivors of the Saginaw shipwrecked on Ocean Island. What of the others? Talbot, Francis, Muir, and Andrews? All gone to a finer berth on a better ship that sails some smoother sea. For we've sailed and come to rest, to be way low, some unknown. Of all the sails, he was the best. To be way low, some unknown. Aye, as Captain Saccard said, we're of a dying race. But we die hard, old salts that we are. For we've sailed and come to rest, to be way low, some unknown. The log of the Saginaw, recovered from the wreck on Ocean Island, has one last entry, Mission Accomplished. So ends another story of the valiant who put to sea. The story of the men who gave us Midway Island, America's frontier in the Pacific. All thanks to Gary Merrill and the Cavalcade players for tonight's story, The Gig of the Saginaw. And now Bill Hamilton speaking for the DuPont Company. The days when a housewife sees her cakes ruined because they stick to the pan may someday be ended. The reason will be a plus value and one of DuPont's better things for better living through chemistry. Teflon, polytetrafluoroethylene. When DuPont chemists developed Teflon, its greatest use seemed to be in the electrical field. Teflon can stand higher temperatures than any other plastic, has outstanding electrical insulating ability, and is unaffected by nearly all chemicals. But Teflon has another special advantage, practically nothing will stick to it. This suggested its use in bakeries where dough sticking to machinery and the pans used for making bread is a problem. But it would be too expensive to make the pans and machine parts entirely of the new plastic. So DuPont chemists found a way to use it as a surface finish. And today there are several new businesses in America whose job it is to apply these Teflon finishes to metals. And now not only in bakeries but in other industries where sticking is a problem, machine parts finished with Teflon are being widely used. When Teflon finishes were first developed a few years ago, they sold for about $250 a gallon. Since then the price has been reduced more than 60 percent, but a gallon still sells for almost $100. Yet the many savings these finishes affect in time, money, and effort have more than justified their use by industry. Continuing research, development, and expanded production will probably reduce the cost of Teflon still further. And no one yet knows all the uses that may be found for Teflon finishes. But DuPont who makes them and the manufacturers that use them are busy finding new ways of serving you with Teflon. One of the DuPont company's better things for better living through chemistry. Tonight's DuPont cavalcade was written by Irv Tunick and was based on the script The Gig of the Saginaw by Lieutenant Donald Morris. Original music was composed by Arden Cornwell, conducted by Donald Borez. The program was directed by John Zoller. With our star Gary Merrill tonight you heard Pat O'Malley as Francis, Ted Reed as Talbot, and Ed Begley as Sikard. Gary Merrill appeared through the courtesy of 20th Century Fox Film Corporation, producers of the film Night Without Sleep. This is Cy Harris reminding you to be with us next week when the DuPont cavalcade will present the exciting story of three Marines in Korea and how they found the one way out. Our star will be John Lund. The DuPont cavalcade of America came to you tonight from the Belasco Theater in New York City and is sponsored by the DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware. Makers of better things for better living through chemistry. Tonight it's comedy with Martin and Lewis and Red Skelton on NBC.
