Among Brave Men
WALLOPS' LIFE-SAVING STATION, VA., July 21 -- Along the beach of the Atlantic coast there appear at intervals red-roofed houses and close by a flag flying from a tall staff. To the traveler there is little or no significance attached to these buildings, which stand like skirmishers deployed along the desolate sandy beach, but to "those that go down to the sea in ships" they are a beacon to direct and a friend to whom they sooner or later may have to appeal. Mute monuments to a nation's humanity, the life-saving station is an institution of incalculable importance. To comprehend the humane work of this service much can be learned from a visit to the stations from the Delaware to Cape Charles. The distance is about 120 miles, and comprises the fifth life-saving district. Lieut. John Wild, U. S. R. M., formerly attached to the Ewing on the Baltimore station, is superintendent of the district, which embraces sixteen stations.
A SEASIDE HOBBY.
"Have you been to the life-saving station?" is one of the first questions asked the new arrivals at Rehoboth, Ocean City and Cobb Island. A visit will more than repay you for the trouble. Among the popular keepers is old Captain West, of the Ocean City [Life-Saving] Station. In summer he is alone, and were it not for the frequent visitors from the resort time would certainly hang heavy. Genial and accommodating, he recites twenty times a day an explanatory lecture on the apparatus, how rescues are made, when such and such a vessel came ashore in a driving storm, and how the life-car was once opened, and a mother with a little babe nestling to her breast, was discovered, the woman half dead with fright. Captain West's visitors are taught the modus operandi in a miniature rescue he has improvised in the station. A vessel is represented in the breakers, with life-line fast to her mast, and the breeches buoy traveling over it to the shore gives a vivid idea of the real thing. The old gentleman had a doll to represent a rescued mariner, but in the middle of the most exciting part of his explanation the doll took a tumble when leaving the wreck and fell into the water made of wood. The figure was top-heavy, and that part of the illustration is now postponed until another one can be obtained.
GRAVES OF THE UNKNOWN.
Many recitals of storm, distress and death are told by these hardy men; stories that would make one thank Providence for the beneficence that instituted the life-saving station. The night patrols looking seaward for a vessel's light have often stumbled over dead bodies given back to earth by the sea. What nerve must be necessary for such a business! Picture the patrol hastening along the beach in a beating storm, his only guide the waves that spit their spray upon him, to be confronted by a human corpse washed up by one wave and taken back by another, for the sea is loth to give up its victims. The patrol wades in to recover the body as a merciful breaker dashes it against him. Then clutching its raiment, the clothes part and leave only a few shreds in his hands, and again the body floats back. At last, it is saved, and the brawny arms of the patrol drag it high up on the beach, while the winds shriek derisively at his efforts and the sea hurls its breakers higher as if to reclaim its prey. On the morrow the crew dig a grave on the beach and the body is buried with its feet at nigh-water mark. The sea waves dash so high and no higher, and in their quieter moods sing requiems over the dead. A fragment of timber from some wreck is the monument and all the lifemen can tell is how one of their number found it one night while hastening along the beach. The Atlantic coast is dotted -- aye, thickly dotted -- with these unknown graves, or graves of mariners never claimed whose bodies washed ashore and were reverentially buried by the life-saving crews.
ROUTINE OF THE SERVICE.
The active work of the service begins September 1, when six men are assigned to each station, the number being increased to seven on December 1. They are retained till May 1, after which the keeper alone is employed until the reassembling of the crews. There is no day patrol along the beach unless it is foggy or stormy. At night the watch is faithfully performed, and the means taken to prevent any deception in this regard are complete. Between stations not over ten miles apart a system of exchanging checks is used. Take Ocean City and North Branch [life-saving] stations as an illustration. Equidistant between the two is a shed at which the patrols meet. Each has a metal check of different design, which is exchanged, the Ocean city patrol bringing back the check brought by the North Branch patrol, and vice versa. They are turned over to their respective keepers, who enter them on the journal of the station. The patrol first at the half-way point must wait for the other. Another system is adopted where the patrols cannot join on account of the great distances between stations. The watch of a patrol is four hours, the same as at sea, with dog watch from 4 to 5 P. M. The distance a man can walk in two hours without fatigue has been calculated, and at that point from the station a boat is placed, and upon it a small iron safe, in which is kept the key of a time indicator or watchman's clock. The safe key and a watch clock are given the patrol when he leaves the station, with the instruction to go to the safe, take out the key, give it one turn in the clock, replace it, lock the safe and bring the clock and safe key back to the keeper, who examines it. The clock, which is completely hidden from view will record the exact time the patrol was at the post, and be mute evidence of the discharge of his duty. Some deceptions have been practiced in the exchange of checks but even that plan has been so systematized that there is no possibility of any more. Between unusually long separated stations the patrolling is done on horseback, as at Assateague. The life-saving stations are very ornate in their design and all built alike. The red roof has been adopted to distinguish them, and shows well from sea. The lower story is occupied by the life-saving apparatus, comprising a surfboat, life-oar, [illegible], a McClelland beach wagon, hawsers, hauling lines, life-preservers and numerous other gear adapted to life-saving work. The boat is on a carriage with wheels as broad as a traction [illegible], to make dragging it through the sand less laborious. Back of the apparatus room is the crew lounging and dining-room, with kitchen in rear. Upstairs are the sleeping apartments. Everything is as clean as if daily attended to by a good housewife, and the gear is ready at a moment's notice. Several of Paul Boynton's life-saving suits hang about the boatrooms like so many criminals lynched for their positive ugliness.
INCREASING EFFICIENCY.
An important work is to be done this year which will greatly increase the usefulness of this important service. It is the connection of all the stations in the fifth district by telephone. Wire has already been distributed between Henlopen and Cape Charles, and soon the stretching of wires will begin. The iron poles formerly used by the now abandoned signal service telegraph will be utilized. These lines were transferred to the life-saving service some years ago and telegraphers employed in the stations, but this was found to be too costly, although very important. In the future the crews of the stations can use the telephones and in a minute can summon adjoining crews to the scene of a wreck instead of two hours or more, as is at present the case. The completion of telephonic communication will be applauded by the whole service along these dreary shores.
The life-saving crews are selected for their courageous spirits and ability to stand the great physical fatigue imposed upon them by the nature of the service. It is their delight to feel that they have performed daring deeds, or at least something worthy to be called humane. Many have lost their lives in seeking to save others, and no monument has yet been erected to perpetuate their names. The daily newspaper is the only medium that records their valor and tells the world of the deeds of men who do good for others while they spend their lives on the desolate shores of the ocean.