Both men had on life-preservers, which gave them a slight chance for their lives. The chance was indeed a frail one, but it was all there was left—the poor fellows might possibly be thrown upon the beach before life was extinct.
Both station crews and dozens of volunteers were marshalled into line and stationed along the edge of the surf, ready to grasp the bodies should they come within reach. Wreckage was coming ashore rapidly; and alive or dead, the keeper felt certain that the brig’s captain and his companion would soon appear in the breakers.
Scarce fifteen minutes passed before two surfmen in close proximity flashed their lanterns, and all those near by hurried to the spot. One of the bodies was in sight close to the shore. As the rescuers prepared to wade in, a breaking wave took up the limp form and hurled it down with terrific force, at the same time carrying it towards shore. The receding water drew the body back a short distance, and then left it upon the sand. Willing hands took up the burden and hurried it to the station. A glance showed it to be the captain.
The other body was discovered by the Fourth Cliff keeper, a considerable distance down the beach to the right of the station. It, too, was floating near shore. Six men ranged themselves along a rope, the keeper being at the outer end with a grappling hook, Thus they waded into the surf and endeavored to catch the body. Four successive times were those furthest out carried off their feet and thrown down in the water before their object was accomplished, and the body drawn out of the breakers. Like that of the captain, it was seemingly lifeless.
The men’s clothing was ripped off, and for several hours the crews worked over them, skilfully practicing the most approved methods for restoring the apparently drowned,—methods by which scores of people seemingly dead have been resuscitated, and in which all persons connected with the United States Life-Saving Service are required to be proficient. Every means approved by science and the wide experience of the operators was tried, but all to no purpose. The vital spark was extinguished; the captain of the brig and the Spanish sailor had drawn their last breath.
Next morning the sky was clear, the snow had ceased, the wind shifted into the north-west, and it was stinging cold. The sea had been busy with its work of destruction during the hours of darkness, and the staunch brig of yesterday was strewn piece-meal along the beach. Stout oak beams and iron girders were splintered, twisted, or rent asunder, while the thick coat of ice with which they were covered, caused them to assume strangely fantastic shapes. The two masts had come ashore; mattresses, provisions of all sorts, boxes, rigging, the cabin floor, and countless casks of molasses, lay scattered upon the beach for leagues in both directions.
Many vessels ended their careers on that terrible night, and many lives were lost, from the Delaware Capes to the shores of Nova Scotia. But scores were saved and alive next morning, who, but for the heroic exertions of the government life-savers, would have perished miserably. These men did only their duty, but in many cases that duty compelled them to take their lives in their hands, and they did it without shrinking.
People all over the country read in the papers that morning of wrecks by the dozen; of deaths innumerable from freezing, drowning, and exposure; of terrible hardships endured for many hours by unfortunates whom human aid was powerless to save; and they said, “What an awful night it was!” Then they turned to their usual occupations, and the subject was forgotten. How should those who spent the night in a warm bed, far from the sound of the waves, have any real conception of the fearful struggles with death represented by those inanimate lines?
THANKSGIVING ON THE DICKY BIRD.
