Two Nights on the Beach With the Life Savers.
Leaving the beautiful little town of Wachapreague in an open sailboat in charge of Capt. George Bell on one of October's chilly evenings, we started for the life saving station on Parramore's beach, a distance of seven miles. The wind blew fiercely from the northwest, and swept us rapidly down the winding stream to the place of landing, one mile distance from the station. Here I met Capt. J. W. Richardson, keeper of the station, and from which point we walked through a marshy district, though over a good road, battling with the mosquitoes all the way, until emerging into the broad opening, we were suddenly relieved by the incoming breeze sweeping them back into their hiding places. I was kindly entertained by this gallant little crew of six men, who are ever on the lookout, and ready to give the needed aid to those who may be cast away along the shores of the vast ocean. This very day tested their skill and bravery in the rescuing of six men who were at the mercy of the wind and tide, and would have soon met a watery grave.
The knowledge displayed by these soldiers of the beach in determining one in distress, is remarkable. With a sweep of the eye over the waters before them, they conclude at once if help is needed from the shore. On the following morning I was permitted to witness the drilling exercises of the surfmen. From the moment the order was given for readiness to rescue the seamen, it was completely executed in the short time of five minutes. So we can see at a glance the vital importance of this public service. The night and day having passed quickly and pleasantly away, I took my leave, with pleasing recollections of my visit, for the next station commanded by Captain J. A. Savage and his good looking crew. Here I met a reception equally as pleasant and cordial. Being chilled by the piercing wind, I was fully prepared to enjoy the comforts of his sitting room made so bright and cheerful by a warming wood fire. For awhile we talked of the exposures and dangers of the surfman's life. No one unacquainted with the workings of this grand army of life savers, can form any estimate of the trials they encounter, the risks they run, and the sufferings they endure in their nightly walks up and down the ocean beach amid the violence of the severest weather. In addition to all this, and generally in the worst of storms, vessels are stranded in the hours of darkness, and often too far to be reached by an iron bullet shot from a small cannon, fastened to the end of a rope by which means the seamen may be drawn ashore in a tiny life boat. Then comes an instant demand upon the skill, and strength, and bravery of these rest-broken surfman. Still greater dangers to be faced. But off they go into their life boat, each man at his oar, over the angry billows in an effort to save a helpless crew from the sinking ship. And many a poor fellow has gone down in the effort to save others, to rise no more until the resurrection morn. Can it be possible then that these noble men are to be thrown aside when unfit for active service, and left to battle with poverty and infirmity, after giving their best manhood to the lives of others? Surely this ought not to be, and will not be, if rightly brought before our law makers. No army of men ever more truly merited a life-long pension, when unfit for further duty, than these will tried, faithful, heroic life savers.
Small pay it is, indeed, for men who live along our coast to warn the mariners of approaching danger, and save them from an untimely death. Debarred, as they are, from home associations, church privileges, and society of friends, to spend a life of tedious sameness for a small salary of $60 per month and board themselves. They deserve our sympathies, and our influence to secure for them a pension to meet the coming time when ill health may drive them from active work. Is was, to me, a delightful sojourn upon the shores of the great waters. I conversed with friends at Wallop's and Assateague Station, distance of 30 miles, by means of the telephone. What a wonderful invention! And so it is, one may enjoy it for a short stay in pleasant weather, and also relish a quiet walk with a companion along the beach on a star-light night, as did I on one of the dog watches. But tarry awhile until the furious winds, drifting snows, and freezing rains come upon us, then the same beaten path along which you once walked with pleasure, will now be wrapt in icy coldness, and loneliness, and danger. Let us look after the surfmen's interest as he goes forth in the great public service.