Suffering and Escaping the Fury of a Hurricane : Rescue: Salvatore Russo and his fishing crew spent a harrowing 44 hours at the mercy of Darby. ‘It is a miracle we are still alive,’ he says.

Days after he survived a harrowing encounter with a hurricane off the coast of Mexico, Salvatore (Tootie) Russo ran into a group of old friends at his favorite breakfast spot in San Pedro.

Like all those who had heard about his ordeal, the patrons at Cannetti’s coffee shop wanted to know the details of Russo’s titanic adventure. But their questions were met with an unusual response from the gregarious fisherman.

“I started to cry and walked away,” Russo said.

Since his return to San Pedro last week, the 64-year-old lifelong fisherman has had little to say about how he and his nine-member crew--including son, John, and brother Joseph--lived through a battle with Hurricane Darby.

“God gave me life again,” Russo said. “It’s not right that a man comes to life again and brags about it.”

Tears have replaced words for the short, stocky native of Trappeto, Sicily, whose incredible journey on a trip to Baja began one month ago today.

It was a trip that Russo, former president of the Fishermen’s Cooperative of San Pedro, had made many times before in search of more bountiful seas than the waters off California. But this time, the trip was more terrifying than anything Russo could imagine, and ended only after he and his crew were rescued July 7 in a life raft, 155 miles southwest of Cabo San Lazaro.

The rescue of Russo and his crew came 44 hours after the fishermen first contacted the U.S. Coast Guard for navigational help, hoping to steer their 72-foot fishing vessel, Tootur, away from the powerful but distant tempest.

The time, Coast Guard dispatches show, was about 4:45 p.m. on Sunday, July 5. And as Russo and his crew searched the calm seas for fish, he recalled, the only hint of approaching tumult was one dark, billowing cloud in the distance.

“The sky didn’t change color until about 5 p.m. A big cloud came . . . and a little sprinkle. And I said to myself, ‘No problem,’ ” Russo remembered.

But as the Tootur sailed the seas, 180 miles off the coast of Baja, Russo and his crew heard by radio from another fisherman, known only to them as Popeye, that the hurricane was headed straight for them.

“He calls us up and says, ‘Are you guys heading toward the beach? Well, you better move a little faster. The chubasco (Spanish for squall) is kicking up,’ ” Russo recalled.

After checking their on-board fax machine for a U.S. Weather Service update, they contacted the Coast Guard station in Long Beach.

“We knew of the hurricane four days before,” Russo said. “But it was going only eight knots, and we felt we had a lot of time. It was thousands of miles away.”

But then the hurricane picked up speed, Russo said. First 12 knots. Then 14 knots. Then 16, 18, and 20 knots. And just as quickly it changed direction, heading northwest toward the Tootur.

“That is when we started crying,” he said.

By nightfall, the winds had reached 70 knots, and the seas churned in 12-foot swells. Russo and his son were in almost constant contact with the Coast Guard in San Francisco, getting updates on the hurricane’s location every 15 minutes.

As the hurricane moved closer, Coast Guard dispatches show, the winds grew stronger, the seas rougher. And in the early morning hours of July 6, with a Coast Guard C-130 transport plane en route to the Tootur, Russo and his crew struggled under pitch-black skies to keep the fishing boat afloat.

By then, the Tootur was being buffeted by 100-knot winds and 25-foot seas. “It (the hurricane) started beating the hell out of us until daylight,” Russo said.

Around 3:30 a.m., Russo and his son sent out a radio Mayday for help. “Sometimes we were crying to them (the Coast Guard) to please do something, to please help us,” Russo said.

Then, Russo said, the Coast Guard responded with a chilling dispatch.

“Around 4 a.m., the Coast Guard said, ‘We can’t tell you where the chubasco is going. And someone (at the Coast Guard station) said, ‘I hope God helps you, because you are 40 to 60 miles from the eye of the chubasco, “ Russo recalled.

Just before 7 a.m., dispatches show, the ship’s rudder broke under the force of the sea swells that Russo said had then reached 40 to 50 feet. About the same time, the winds and sea blew out the Tootur’s windows and Russo and his crew began inflating a life raft to abandon ship.

“At that point, we had been bounding around very bad for about two hours . . . and the boat was spinning around” like a top, Russo said.

“Every swell was coming over the top of the ship, and after four or five big swells,” Russo said, he almost gave up hope that he and his crew would survive the hurricane.

Climbing into the life raft, the crew activated a tracking device that allowed the Coast Guard to track their location despite visibility of less than 300 feet.

Nearly three hours would pass before the Coast Guard’s C-130, one of three dispatched to the rescue, spotted the fishermen and their life raft. And while the crew of the Tootur was no longer alone in the storm, it would be another 24 hours before their rescue from the high seas.

During that time, Russo recalled, the ocean remained fierce. And he and his crew remained terrified.

But the winds and the sea were still too formidable for a rescue. And for hours, it was left to the fishermen to keep their life raft--and their hopes--from sinking.

Sometimes, Russo recalled, that seemed almost impossible. With his knee and his son’s shoulder badly injured, Russo said, the crew faced not only a raging sea, but their own fading strength.

“By midnight Monday, my leg started hurting bad. Then I heard the plane up top and said (to himself), ‘If we lose the plane . . . and my leg doesn’t stop hurting, I don’t know if we are going to make it,” he said.

“We cried. We were very scared. My tears were coming. I was worried that I might not see my family anymore.”

At that point, the Coast Guard had kept watch over the life raft for several hours by using illumination flares, whose piercing white light lasts only several minutes. One Philippine-flagged merchant vessel had offered its services, but was hours away from a rescue.

Then, at 1:50 a.m. July 7, the Panamanian merchant ship Raku You notified the Coast Guard that it could reach the fishermen around noon that day.

During the next 10 hours, with the life raft miles away from the fishing boat, Russo and his crew waited to be rescued. With the weather a bit calmer, the Coast Guard plane dropped a two-way radio down to the fishermen so they could keep in contact.

Finally, just after noon, the Raku You came into view of the fishermen. “When I saw that ship, my heart exploded. I said, ‘God is coming to me,’ ” Russo remembered. “It was like an island coming.”

As quickly as they could, Russo said, he and the other crewmen scaled netting to come aboard the merchant vessel. And when they were aboard, the Raku You steamed for Panama on a journey that lasted another week.

Upon their arrival in Panama, Russo and the others made arrangements to fly back home, returning last Wednesday morning to Los Angeles International Airport.

When they arrived, they were tearfully greeted by more than a dozen family members who, like Russo’s wife, Gloria, and daughter, Gina, asked but didn’t receive many details of the frightening odyssey.

“He doesn’t want to talk about it much,” Gina said later.

In the past several days, Russo and his family have tried to return to their normal lives. Spending time together. Seeing friends.

“It is a miracle we are still alive,” Russo said.

There is still pain though, Russo admits. He lost his ship--the one he and his wife nicknamed after their late son, Salvatore, who died of cancer years ago at age 22.

But for all the sadness over losing the vessel, Russo said, he does not want to dwell on his--and his crew’s--brush with death. “Every time I talk about it, I feel very, very bad,” he said.

Instead, Russo said, he wants to look forward to the time when he will again be fishing.

“I lost my boat . . . (and) I feel sick about it,” Russo said. “But thank the Lord, we are all alive and safe.”

A Time of Terror: The Log of the Tootur

June 27

10 a.m.: Salvatore “Tootie” Russo departs San Pedro with his son, John, brother-in-law, Joe, and seven other crewmen aboard Russo’s 72-foot fishing boat, the Tootur.

July 5

4:22 p.m.: Ship first reports to Coast Guard that it is caught in bad weather and asks for directions out of the path of Hurricane Darby. Location is 20 degrees 44.50 north, 114 degrees 41.23 west.

8:04 p.m.: Location is 21 degrees 16.5 north, 114 degrees 22.5 west. Tootur is caught in 12-foot seas with winds reaching 70 knots. July 6

1:04 a.m.: Winds reach 70 to 75 knots. Seas very rough. Coast Guard C-130 plane en route to vessel.

3:30 a.m.: Vessel reports Mayday with broken rudder.

4:22 a.m.: Vessel reports 100-knot winds and 25-foot seas.

6:44 a.m.: Vessel reports windows blown aboard Tootur and crew inflates life raft to abandon ship. Position is 22 degrees 08.14 north, 113 degrees 36.94 west.

7:20 a.m.: Coast Guard tells Tootur to activate its E-Pirb (an emergency position indicating radio beacon). Swells reach 30 to 50 feet. Visibility is 300 feet.

8:16 a.m.: Coast Guard C-130 detects E-Pirb but cannot see vessel.

8:58 a.m.: Coast Guard’s 378-foot cutter Morgenthau is en route to vessel.

9 a.m: C-130 locates vessel and drops radio to life raft to keep open communications with crew.

9:40 a.m.: C-130 spots life raft and reports all 10 crewmen are aboard.

9:49 a.m.: Philippine-flagged merchant vessel Lakambini notifies Coast Guard that it can reach life raft in 19 hours.

11 a.m.: Coast Guard’s radio station in San Francisco reports weather is dying down.

2:20 p.m.: Lakambini revises ETA to midmorning of following day. Ship also reports high seas and 45-knot winds.

3:34 p.m.: Navy P-3 aircraft reports life raft is 1/2 mile from fishing vessel with 15- to 20-foot seas and 50-knot winds.

6 p.m.: Life raft is 3.5 miles from fishing vessel.

8:35 p.m.: C-130 is on scene and locates life raft. Coast Guard crewmen use illumination flares to keep track of raft. July 7

1:50 a.m.: Panamanian-flagged merchant vessel Raku You notifies Coast Guard that it can help in rescue. Its ETA is 12:30 p.m.

6:15 a.m.: Raku You revises ETA to 10:45 a.m.

7:05 a.m.: Coast Guard drops another radio to life raft. All 10 still aboard. Report two are injured, one with broken knee, other with broken shoulder.

8:30 a.m.: Raku You reports it will be on scene in two hours.

11:04 a.m.: Raku You arrives on scene.

11:13 a.m.: Position is 22 degrees 42.1 north, 113 degrees 43.5 west.

12:30 p.m.: Crew is aboard Raku You. Coast Guard C-130 returns to Sacramento. July 14

7:30 a.m.: Raku You arrives in Panama. July 15

10 a.m.: Russos and two other crew members arrive at Los Angeles International Airport.