The Heroes of the Revenue Marine
An officer recounts a decade of daring rescues and high-seas law enforcement along the Pacific and Atlantic coasts.
The story, cleaned up
A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.
At nearly every prominent seaport town, a revenue steamer is seen in the harbor. Those on Puget Sound are especially favored, as these trim vessels are ordered to report for final instructions before proceeding northward to render assistance to the merchant marine and the whaling fleet, and to prevent violations of revenue laws. I spent a number of years as an officer in the revenue marine service. On January 17, 1884, the steamer City of Columbus struck the Devil's bridge, a double ledge of submerged rocks near Gay Head. The revenue steamer Dexter, commanded by Capt. Eric Gabrielsen, reached the wreck at daylight. Lieut. Rhodes and a picked crew lowered a lifeboat. When they could not reach the survivors clinging to the rigging due to heavy seas, Rhodes fastened a line to his waist and boldly jumped into the freezing waters, reaching the wreck to bring the men to safety. Later, while I was serving on the revenue steamer Seward, we were ordered to search for a missing pilot. We fought a gale for days, eventually finding the pilot and his companions clinging to a cotton life preserver, then later rescued a disabled schooner which had been drifting to sea for a week. These vessels are the unsung guardians of the sea, often putting in work when all others are forced to turn back.
“The lieutenant ordered them to jump. Thirteen men trusted their lives to him... two men remained dangling to the rigging, apparently unconscious. The daring lieutenant determined upon saving those two men.”
Long before the modern Coast Guard was consolidated in 1915, 'revenue cutters' were the primary maritime police and rescue force for the United States. This vivid account reminds us that the rugged, life-saving culture of the Pacific Northwest maritime industry is rooted in a tradition of dangerous, small-scale, and often overlooked government service.
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