 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, tonight's star, Gary Merrill as Cox and Halford. Eighteen hundred miles west of Hawaii, a pin point 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 cooling 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 cooling 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 are to it, Pete. Lieutenant Torbacher? Yes, Quartermaster? Of course, no 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? He haven't to say yes, sir, and no sir to a lad that's got a floss where his beard ought to be. How the Lieutenant's all right? Ah, he's wet behind the ears. Night. Night. Who has the wheel? Cox and Halford, sir. Well, mine's your helm tonight. Steer nothing to the south. Nothing to the south. Aye-aye, sir. Oh, Stormy was a fine old man to me way, oh, Storm along. Oh, Stormy, he is dead and gone, to me way, oh, Storm. Evening, Coxson. Oh, evening, Captain. I haven't heard that shanty in many a moon. Oh, Storm along? Well, it's still being sung on the Clippers. Diane Race, Coxson, the Clipperships, and the men who sailed them. Lieutenant Talbot, may I see you? Aye-aye, sir. You don't agree, do you, Coxson? About the Clipperships? 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 on him all, we may set in towards Ocean Island. You better watch for it. Aye-aye, sir. Ahoy, the mass hits! Land or breakers on the starboard bow as soon as sighted. Jump what 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 in a chain that'll bind our trading ships with all the wealth of Asia. Maybe not now, but in time to come, Midway will be a good partial land-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, Cokson? A voyage home is always pleasant, sir. Even if it is by steamboat with soot to foul air and smoke to filthy the sky. The USS Saginaw was a wooden paddle-wheeled bark, a mule of a ship, neither horse nor donkey, as they say, a half-breed of the sea. He carried her canvas smart enough, but the wooden paddle-wheel stuck 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 timber. 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? He might be in for a gale, sir. A bit of trim, some sail. Aye-aye, sir. What's your course? North by east. You better stand into the wind. Aye-aye, sir. I think... Breakers. All engines full back. All engines full back. We're away! Reefs put the helm full over. Full over she is, sir. Reefs, we're right on them. We piled on the reef. Within minutes, the ship's company was massed on deck. All present, make your reports. Well-stove and 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? Rotter's gone, lower gudgeon carried away. Very well. Return to your divisions. Motion. 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 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. Next morning, Captain Sikard 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 think 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. At 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 skylocking. 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. On the ship's timber, we build a lookout, 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 here, watch, and peer into nothing. Knowing that nothing will come this way. Ah, 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? I, sir, make-believe. You say, and a traitor might pass. And the captain, getting the men to scramble around, playin' at buildin' 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 chewin' sand before the ribs are warped. And that's a fine. 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 in of the gunnels, but she can be repaired. A gig? She's sea-worthy, and with a good hand at the tiller, she could make Hawaii. 1,800 miles in an open boat? It would be suicide. So 90 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 sale 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 Saccard 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 will 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, Couttson. Suppose we did fit the gig out. Got to see where they. What makes you think you can sail at 1,800 miles to Hawaii? How would you keep your course? I can use a sextant, 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 fixin' and a bit of the ward room mirror, I can fix up a sextant. True it'll be, but good enough. You've got a lot of answers, Couttson. 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 it? Your life and the lives of those that go with you. Risk in five to save 90? That's a fair enough gamble. I couldn't see myself given the order 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 and no disrespect. I don't agree. And even if it turns out that way, I'd rather meet Davey Jones with wet britches than have my bones picked over by sandflies. Would you let us go, sir? Mr. Talbot. Sir? Make ready the gig. You'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 Saganon, starring Gary Merrill as Coxson 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 seamen's Bible. November 18th, 1870. On this day, we left Ocean Island. There are five of us aboard the gig. Lieutenant Talbot, Watermaster Francis, seamen John Andrews and James Muir, and myself. We have 1,800 miles to Hawaii. We'll stand our watches in rotation for our tricks and all hands up in stormy weather. Now, we need a cook. Any volunteers? 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. Hi, and why not? Shipman under sail again. It takes me back to 51, it does. You remember, quartermaster, we shipped together. We did both green as Falmouth Clover. Well, I do remember. The flying cloud, the queen of the clippers. 89 days around the horn to the Golden Gate. What a ship. So as the day is crystal clear as this, that we piqued the anchor. Remember, quartermaster? I do, and I can still hear the dorsetones of Captain Jothiah P. Creasy. On the futsal yard there, if you put that gasket out, it'll spit your skull with an anchor line. He passed it and ripped your lube. Pour it up there, overhaul your front lines. All right, now, you chattermen, strike a light. Make it a fest in your locker. I wish I was old Stormy's son. To me way, oh, swarm along, I'll build me a ship of a thousand tons. 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 25, 1870. And I took a sighting on the handmade sextant. What do you make it out, Coxson? 21 degrees, 19 minutes north latitude. That should put us on a straight compass line to Honolulu. Quartermaster? I should. Course, due east. Nothing to the north, nothing to the south. Due east, it is. 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 calms, three weeks. Three weeks? 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. We had fair sailing, and we logged a creditable number of miles per day. But the 10th day out, the wind shifted. The sea rose on its haunches, and it rained as I've never seen rain before. Water's over the fire bricks now, and still rising. Well, keep at it. Quartermaster, can't you keep us steady into the wind? We're taking on water. Oh, I'm doing the best I'm able to. She's straining. 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. Let's not worry about that now. Coxon, 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. Aye, that's as tough as we can get it. Stand aside, quartermaster. Just turn them into the wind. Lieutenant, watch the boom. Down, Lieutenant, the boom. I'm overboard. All right, bring the gig about. I'm going to Natham. Bring it about. The muter, throw a line out to him. Aye, sir. All right, lend a hand. Get him aboard. Easy. I'll give a hand to the Coxon. I'm all right. It's a nasty gash the Lieutenant has. All right, lash him to the deck, and then get below and bail. Bail, do you hear me? Bailer will 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 dollar. While the others slept, I checked the gig for damages. Then I made my way forward to where Lieutenant Talbot was flashed to the deck. Morning, Alfred. Morning, sir. How's the head? Oh, feel as though I've been bashed in by the boom. That's your work, huh? It 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 ores. That's bad. Hi. 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're 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. I should be doing fine in a day or two. No. You take command. Aye, sir. If you say so, I'll 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 would only be wasted. For another week, the second week out, we all managed to keep in fairly good trim. Rain squalls gave us some water. And the quartermaster proved a fair hand with a 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 seafaring man 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. Gawkson, Gawkson. Yes, Francis? Look, 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. There'll be water there. We can make it to Honolulu, but there are two more. Land here. Do you hear me, Gawkson? 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 for a message. Stand fast. Keep out of this, Lieutenant. Put that knife or I'll shoot. Aye, you young squirt. Put down that gun. Back. The last time I warn you, get back. Land. Land, and we're sailin' by. We're sailin' by. We're sailin' by. And she passed 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. Don't shoot me away, oh, star. Listen. Listen, breakers. Breakers. Must be Kauai Island. We're drifting in. I can't fight the helm. Get to the mast and spread the foot of that sail. Do as I say. If the gig broaches were done for, get to the mast, we're swingin'. We're broachin', we're goin' over. Jump, jump, slayer. 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 had 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 86 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. Hi, Captain Secard said, we're of a dying race. But we die hard, old salts that we are. Hog of the Saginaw recovered from the wreck on Ocean Island as 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. 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 in 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%. 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. The Night'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 Boris. The program was directed by John Zoller. With our star, Gary Merrill, tonight, you heard Pato Malleus, Francis, Ted Reade as Talbot, and Ed Wigley as Cicard. Gary Merrill appeared through the courtesy of 20th Century Fox Film Corporation for the first time in his life. The 20th Century Fox Film Corporation produces of the film Night Without Sleep. Mrs. Sy 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 Velasco 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.