“Wall, let that go for what it is worth. To go back, Squire, as I was a–sayin’ about Walter, I thought you might spare him, this month, say.”
“Oh—yes—yes. I think I can.”
“Then, I’ll speak to him. You see one reason why I’d rather have him in Silas’ place a month—of course, I don’t s’pose he could be spared mebbe, any longer time than that—one reason, as I said, is that I think I can depend on him. I heard him, one mornin’ before the boat–race, say to Baggs’ nephew a thing—something or other—wasn’t right, and he wouldn’t have anything to do with it. I liked that in him. I told the sup’rintendent of our station deestrick who was on, all ’bout Walter, and that I thought he would do as a substitute, and I mentioned that leetle circumstance. The sup’rintendent said it had the right ring. So, Squire, if you are ’greeable, I’ll speak to Walter.”
“I’m willing, Jotham, and I’m obliged to you for your good opinion of my nephew.”
Not only was Boardman “‘greeable,” but so was every one who was involved in the matter. Aunt Lydia assented, though she declared she should “miss him.” Don Pedro gave a solemn smile, and said he would do all he could. Walter’s parents were willing; and as for Walter—he just sprang for the chance. He met the proposition with all the enthusiasm of his nature. That yellow building near the beach fascinated him. The sea beyond was a mystery that awed, and yet ever attracted him. He had been reading about the life saving service, and he wished with his own eyes to look inside—not inside of a book, simply, but the service itself. He went home to pass “Thanksgiving,” that delightful family festival; and after his return, one brilliant but chilly November morning, he climbed up into his Uncle Boardman’s high red wagon, and took his seat by Don Pedro, who had been commissioned to take Walter, and an old blue chest, down to the station. Walter had found this chest up in the garret, packed away under the dusky eaves.
“It looks more sailor like than my trunk,” reasoned Walter, “and I will ask the folks if I can’t take it. Good! It has rope handles, sailor–fashion. Just the thing!”
The “folks” were willing, and without obtaining the leave of the chest itself, this was dragged out into the light, upset, dusted, pounded on every side, and dusted again; and after this rough, unceremonious treatment, lugged down into Walters chamber. There, it was neatly packed, and then removed to the red wagon. Before it reaches the station, there will be time enough to say something about the late work of that department of Government employ, into which Walter Plympton for awhile has gone.
By the report of the life saving service for 1885, there were 203 stations planted on the edge of that great kingdom of water whose violence must so often be fought. Of these stations, 38 were on the Lakes, 7 on the Pacific, 157 on the Atlantic, and 1 at the Falls of the Ohio, Louisville, Kentucky.
These stations are grouped into districts: those in Maine and New Hampshire, constituting the first district; in Massachusetts, the second; on the coast of Rhode Island and Long Island, the third; and the New Jersey coast makes the fourth. There is a large number of stations in the last two districts, for they offer a dangerous coast on which to trip up the great commerce hurrying into and out of New York. As we go farther south, the coast from Cape Henlopen to Cape Charles lies in the fifth district; and that from Cape Henry to Cape Fear River in the sixth. The eastern coast of Florida, with the coast of Georgia and South Carolina, is in the seventh, the Gulf coast in the eighth. Lakes Erie and Ontario make the ninth district; Lakes Huron and Superior the tenth; Lake Michigan the eleventh; and the Pacific coast constitutes the twelfth. Each district is in the care of a superintendent, and over all is the General Superintendent, Hon. Sumner I. Kimball, whose headquarters are at Washington. The service also has its Inspector, Capt. J. H. Merryman, and there are twelve Assistant Inspectors, for the twelve districts. Let us now get up high enough in imagination to look down on our rough coast, and watch the vessels struggling with storm and surf while the surfmen gallantly push out to their relief. 371 disasters were recorded at these stations, and in the periled vessels, were 2,439 persons; and only eleven were lost. Now let us look at the property involved in these disasters. The vessels and their cargoes were estimated to be worth $4,634,380, and of this amount, there was a saving of $3,379,583. There were 56 vessels totally lost. This is the last published report. The work at a life saving station is of varied nature. There are not only wrecks to be visited, but vessels coming too near shore in the night time must be warned off by the faithful patrolman’s signal light. A vessel may be stranded, and need to be “worked off.” If a fisherman’s dory, or a millionaire’s yacht, should meet with any kind of a disaster, if some unlucky traveler by the sea may tumble into the water from his little craft, if any party of mariners, disabled for any reason, may need shelter and refreshment, it is the life saving station that is expected to furnish help for all the above cases.
Let us now pack into a nutshell the results of the work of these men, since this system was inaugurated in 1871. There have been 2,918 disasters that involved property worth $51,763,694, and there was a saving of $36,277,929. Out of a total of 25,693 persons involved in these disasters, 25,236 were saved; and the department claims that it was not responsible for the loss of 197. In the latter cases, the stations were not open, or service was hindered by distance. 4,829 persons were aided at stations, and the days of relief afforded these were 13,313. I would add that, the seventh district is peculiar. It takes in the eastern coast of Florida. Stations here are “provisioned houses of refuge” in the care of keepers, but without any crew. The coast is singular, and if a vessel be stranded, the escape of the crew is as a rule, comparatively easy. In the case of such a disaster as the above, to a crew, their special peril is from hunger and thirst, when they have reached a shore very scantily inhabited. Guide posts are set up for the benefit of such castaways, directing them to the station or lighthouse that may be nearest.