Whatever happened to ... the sailor who survived the Marine Electric disaster?
Bob Cusick is "still kicking." That's no small feat for any man about to turn 85. It's especially notable when you are one of only three sailors to survive what was among the nation's worst maritime disasters.
Tuesday will mark the 25th anniversary of the sinking of the coal ship Marine Electric in a blizzard off Chincoteague. Thirty-one sailors died.
Cusick was the ship's chief mate. He still has nightmares about how the rusted relic of World War II rolled before the crew could launch its lifeboats. He can still feel the water swallowing him and hear the men screaming for help in the darkness.
But the nightmares aren't as frequent now.
"It's really been a long time," he said from his home in
Most of it because of Cusick and the other two survivors' testimonies.
As a result of this accident, and the detailed records of neglect Cusick kept, the Coast Guard launched its renowned rescue swimmers program. Ships sailing in cold waters are required to provide survival suits to their crews; safety inspections are more rigorous; lifeboats must have better launching systems; and rafts must have boarding platforms to allow freezing sailors to climb inside.
The Marine Electric was what mariners call a rust bucket. Its huge cargo hatches were warped, wasted away and patched cosmetically with putty and duct tape. The deck was cracked, and the hull even had a hole punched through by a bulldozer.
Still, inspectors cleared it to sail, and it routinely hauled pulverized coal from
Its last trip was into the teeth of a violent nor'easter. The aging ship was no match for the weather. For more than 24 hours, the Marine Electric was battered by swells that stretched 40 feet from trough to crest.
For part of the trip, the ship had been diverted to escort a trawler into Chincoteague.
Not long after resuming its course, the Marine Electric started taking on water.
Seas crashing over those corroded decks rushed inside the hatches, mixing with the powdered coal to create an unstable slurry.
The water couldn't be pumped out, because the ship's owners had welded covers over the drain holes.
Cusick was lucky. He had just come off watch and was wearing an insulated coat his wife had insisted he buy and a raw wool cap she had knitted for him. They would eventually make the difference between life and death.
Cusick swam for an hour in the tempest before finding a swamped lifeboat. He climbed inside and wedged himself beneath the seats, slipping under the 37-degree water, to escape the howling winds. He gasped for breaths between waves.
Cusick found strength in a song about the shipwreck of the Mary Ellen Carter, and folksinger Stan Rogers' refrain to "rise again, rise again."
Cusick would spend 2 hours and 45 minutes in the frigid water, nearly double what Navy survival charts claimed was possible.
It was after dawn when a Coast Guard helicopter from Elizabeth City, N.C., running on fumes, dropped a basket into his lifeboat and Cusick was hoisted to safety.
After testifying against his company, Cusick spent four more years at sea, then moved to
His wife Bea is sure it's related to the time in the frigid ocean.
On Feb. 24, The Weather Channel will tell the Marine Electric's tale as part of its series on storms that changed history.
As for Cusick, the lifelong mariner said he steers clear of small motor boats and large ships, and "I wouldn't make a cruise for all the tea in
Tony Germanotta, (757) 222-5113, tony.germanotta@pilotonline.com
Published on HamptonRoads.com | PilotOnline.com (http://hamptonroads.com)
