PILOT BOAT EDWARD COOPER DISMASTED IN MIDOCEAN. CREW RESCUED WITH GREAT DIFFICULTY BY THE STEAMSHIP MARENGO - CREW CAME INTO PORT ON THE LA CAMPINE - STORY OF THE WRECK TOLD BY THE BOATKEAPER. The stanch little pilot boat Edward Cooper, officially known as No. 20, cleared Sandy Hook Dec. 12, and stood away to the eastward, cruising for incoming ships. The boat met a hurricane, got worsted In the encounter, and yesterday the crew re-turned to port, having been forced to abandon their vessel, which had been dismasted by the storm, and reduced to a sink-ing condition. No lives were lost. The cruise which terminated so unsatisfactorily may serve as a reminder that pilots and their boats are not yet exempt from the ills to which seafaring folk are heir. When two weeks had passed and no news of the Cooper had been received it was hinted that some mishap had befallen her. The idea was promptly scouted by the other pilots, who were of the opinion that a pilot boat was not the kind of craft that could be considered as overdue, as pilot boats did not run on schedule time. It had to be admitted that these boats had been singularly free from mishap, and it was not the time then to question the boast that they could ride out gales that would swamp steamships. This imposing faith in the storm-defying qualities of the pilot boats received a rude shock yesterday when the Dutch steam-ship La Campine arrived in port with the crew of the Cooper on board. The story of how they were compelled to desert their vessel and ask aid of a passing steamship was told to a reporter of NEW YORK TIMES yesterday by Joseph Bigley, the boatkeeper of the Cooper. The boat, he said, went on station duty Dec.12. She carried a crew of seven persons and had flve pilots on board. For four days the Cooper cruised within the limits of the station without meeting with any vessels, and then it was decided to stand well out to the eastward, keeping in the track of westward-bound vessels. This was done, and two days after leaving the station the Gallia was sighted. Pilot H. C. Nichols was placed on board of the Cunarder, and the transfer had hardly been made before anothor vessel was sighted. She proved to be the Brooklyn City bound to New-York. Pilot Arthur Gridley got the job of showing her the way in. Elated with their success, the remaining pilots decided to push still to the eastward. They were already pretty well out to sea, but a brisk westerly wind was crisping a white cap here and there, and the hardy adventurers saw no reason why they should not take advantace of the favoring breeze and venture still further out. All sail was set, and all night long the little boat sped to the eastward, skimming lightly over the deep sea swell, which grew heavier as the vessel drew further away from land. The following day the wind came out of the northwest and flying before the quartering breeze the little craft was rapidly les-sening the distance between herself and the mid-Atlantic. Toward noon the wind freshened and came in fitful gusts. which had a promise of greater weight before many hours bad passed. It was too well fulfilled. Toward nightfall there was a moment's lull and then came a shrieking blast from the eastward. The long rhythmic swell was converted into a wild, tumbling chaos by the sudden shift of wind, which raised what sailors call a dirty sea. The boat struggled against the toppling pyramids for a few hours and was then hove to under a reefed main trysail. The wind steadily increased in force and by midnight or the 22d it was blowing a furious hurricane. As the boat was hove to and had her wheel lashed it did not require any one to manage her and only one man - Joseph Bigley, the narrator of this tale - was on deck. All the others were below. Shortly after midnight a terrific squall tore the mainsail into ribbons. The vessel hung a moment longer with head to sea and then laid her broadside to the combine ridges. The result was disastrous. The first wave that struck her in that position tumbled her over until the whole length of her keel was exposed. The mainmast snapped short off at the deck, and as the wildly plunging spar tautened the rigging which hold it to the foremast, that also went by the board, leaving only a stump standing. For a moment that was hid by a great swelling wave, which almost entirely submerged the wreck. It tore away the hatch leading to the companionway, carried away the ladder which led to the lower deck, and flooded that part of the vessel. The men who were below realized that something had happened as soon as the sail was carried away. If they had not they would have known it the next moment, when the vessel went on her beam's end. They scrambled to the hatchway, only to be swept away by the wave which came tumbling in a solid wall down the opening. As soon as they could regain their footing they made another effort, and finally succeeded in reaching the spar deck. Some of them attacked the rigging which held the broken spars alongside, and with much difficulty succeeded in getting the hulk clear of the dangerous wreckage. Others sought to rig the pumps so as to clear the hold of water, but the pumps had been rendered useless by the Tailing debris of masts and rigging. Meanwhile the wreck was in imminent danger of foundering outright, and it became imperative to get her head to the sea again. Canvas was hastily lashed to the main boom, and that spar thrown overboard, with a stout hawser attached to serve as a draff or "sea anchor" and keep the bow headed to the waves. It had that effect, but seas constantly swept over the decks. After the drag was put over the crew went to work to bail out the hold with buckets. The weather was extremely cold and the work was attended with great hardships. The hurricane was still raging and squalls of snow frequently obscured all objects. The drag held for six hours and then the hawser suddenly parted. The crew attempted to rig a jurymast on the stump of the foremast, but the hulk was pitching so furiously that the effort had to be abandoned. Another drag was made and tossed over the side, secured by the largest hawser that could be had. The use of oil over the bow was also resorted to. For twenty-four hour the water-lodged hulk breasted the heavy seas, gradually sinking deeper in the water despite all efforts of the crew to free the hold. Christmas morning, at 9 o'clock, a sail was sighted to the westward. A distress signal was hoisted, and a few hours later the steamship Marengo, from New-York for Newcastle, was lying by. Owing to the heavy gale and sea, the work of rescue was one of direct peril. The steamship steamed to windward of the wreck and launched a lifeboat, which was manned by volunteers. The men on the Cooper say that the Marengo, which was hardly a hundred feet distant from them, rolled her bulwarks under water, and at times would lay her masts and funnel al-most level with the sea. The transfer was made in safety and the Marengo steamed away with the rescued crew just a blinding snowstorm hid the hulk from view. It is thought that the hulk must have sunk soon after it was abandoned. The crew saved only what they stood in, but their wants were liberally supplied. They were, of course, anxious to return to New-York, and the Captain of the Marengo said he would ask passage for them of the first westward-bound steamship he met. Five days elapsed before one was sighted. It proved to be La Campine, bound for this port. Her commander expressed willingness to receive the shipwrecked people and the transfer was made. Those rescued and brought back on board La Camplne are: Pilots Thomas Marks. John Hammer, and Louis Jounkers, Boatkeeper Joseph Bigley, Cook S. Gates, Cabin Boy W. Gates, and Seamen Roanye, Klatt, Anderson, and Notter.