LAUNCHING THE LIFE BOATS
I used to discuss the method of landing the life boats with my friends at Nauset who keep a dory on the beach in which they go through the surf to the off-shore fishing grounds. Mr. Henry Daniels, surfman number one at Nauset, is known along the great beach as one of the crack boatmen of the Cape.
And this is the way they do it.
When there is a wreck in the surf and the lifeboat must be used, the first thing to do is to watch for a favorable opportunity and a favorable spot. The big waves break upon the beach in threes. This is not a superstition but a fact. When the third giant wave has thundered ashore and there is a small sea as far out as possible, then watch for the good moment and seize it when it comes. The three elements of success, once you have left the beach and are in the surf, are headway, speed, and strength. It is tremendously important to have powerful, skillful men in the bow. The captain steers. The difficulty lies in holding the boat bow on to the breakers, the undertow and the sweep of the surf tend to make the boat broach too, and if this happens over she goes. Sometimes just as a big wave looks as if it were about to crash down into the boat, headway and strength will save the day. Landing? Oh, there’s the hard part of it; landing a lifeboat is much more difficult than launching it. The thing to try to do is land as naturally as possible. If you let the sea run away with you, there’ll be a spill. If a boat is badly handled, the surf will rush her in with her bow tilted up in the air, and then tip her clean over when she strikes the sand. You see once you are under way coming ashore, you have got to go somewhere. A well handled boat comes ashore with the sea about amidships, then your bow is neither tilted up or down but lies in a natural position. And in coming ashore, just as in going out, you do your best to pick a favorable time.
There was recently a rather amusing case at Pamet River. A steamer journeying to New York from a port on the Great Lakes had suddenly and mysteriously developed boiler trouble while off the Cape, and sent a crew ashore to summon a tug. The ship was slowly drifting along, for her shallow length of anchor chain was never meant for the old ocean, and her anchors were trailing like fish hooks overside.
Boiler trouble? These innocent lake folk, accustomed to filling their boilers with water from the lakes, had been taking in water from the salt sea. They had been taking it regularly, and the salt in the boiler tubes had done the rest.
And this is remembered as a very good joke on fresh water sailors all over the Cape.
“The service is not what it used to be,†says the voice of the Cape. “Because recruits do not present themselves, less important stations have been practically closed and their crews distributed among vitally important posts, casual ‘substitutes’ are to be met with everywhere, and the guard has had to accept young boys who hardly know one end of an oar from the other. Everybody here knows that if things keep on getting worse, it will be the end of the guard.â€
This local impression is a just one. The great service of the Cape is in genuine danger, a danger which deserves close national attention. Let us survey conditions.
To begin with, the coast guard service of Cape Cod is not one for which any casual good lad will do. If you want a real surfman, you must begin with a man who is used to seeing surf, and knows what to expect in the morning when a northeaster has been howling through the night. I do not aim at being melodramatic when I say that the sight of the violence of the surf in a big storm is one which takes the heart out of a stranger. Moreover, a surfman should be one who has grown up with boats, and has a kind of instinct for their ways.
A second point awaits consideration. The coast guard cannot enlist, use, and discharge its men in the free manner of the Army and the Navy. It takes years for a man to know his work and the conditions at his station. The endless tricks of the wind and tide, the behavior of the sea in various storms, the mysteries of the undertow, all these are learned only through long experience. Your good surfman is no casual recruit, here to-day and gone to-morrow, but a sensible, steady family man who has made a fine and honorable life-work of his service in the guard. The guards of whom I have written are of this type; they are men who have been in the guard for years, and are standing by it because they are full of grit and courage.
The men whom the service needs are to be had. There are many men who would like to go into the guard if they could do so and take care of their families. But how can a married man expect to bring up a little family according to American standards on a salary averaging between seventy and eighty dollars a month? Moreover, the service is hard on clothing, while the allowances for uniforms and warm apparel are scant.
Your steady man will not enlist because he cannot enlist. You cannot get the right man for the wrong amount of money. The surfmen have a subsistence allowance, it is true, but food is dear these days.
At all the great stations you will find the old-timers trying to make the best of it in the most gallant way. Most of them have families, and it is a hard, hard fight. And little by little, the old-timers drop out, the casual substitute comes, and the roustabout youngster. Of some of the latter class, the less said the better.
The service of patrol upon the Cape is genuinely heroic, and its fine traditions are rich in honor. Surely a great Nation will not allow a great national service to fall into the pit of evil days? “The laborer is worthy of his hire.†If cities and towns can pay firemen and policemen adequate salaries, the Nation ought to be able to pay such salaries to a handful of surfmen!
Through starlight or buffeting storm, the yellow lantern will shine to-night along the beach. The man who carries it is well worthy of aid.
Transcriber's Notes:New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public domain.Obvious typographicaly errors have been silently corrected.