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Ever since word flashed across the Atlantic that Captain Kurt Carlsen was safe, Manhattan had been waiting impatiently for him. Reporters dug into the history of the skipper of the Flying Enterprise, interviewed his family and crew. People read that he had learned his deep-water trade by crossing the Atlantic ten times in sailing ships, that he had made up his mind to be a sailor at the age of eleven, and stubbornly insisted on taking his old rowboat into the most dangerous waters around his home at Hamlet-haunted Elsinore, Denmark. By the time Carlsen arrived last week, the city was his.

The whistles of 300 ships tooted a greeting when he sailed up the harbor on the Coast Guard cutter Sank. Half a million people cheered the skipper as he paraded up Broadway. "I just wanted to kiss him," a young girl hollered indignantly after chasing the skipper's car for eight blocks. From every window, ticker tape and confetti poured down, 75 tons of it. At a luncheon in his honor, Carlsen turned down a gold watch sent him by a wellwisher. Said he: "Please accept a simple seaman's simple thanks."

Then Captain Carlsen went home to Woodbridge (N.J.) for a few weeks' rest before taking command of another ship. His boss, Hans Isbrandesen, said it would be a fine new vessel of 11,500 tons, bigger and faster than the old one. Her name: Flying Enterprise.

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