Now we’ll go back to 1902. Time had passed on. William F. Tuttle,
captain of the old Monomoy Lifesaving Station had passed away, and
Marshall N. Eldredge of South Chatham was now the keeper. In 1902
halfway down from Chatham to Point Rip stood the old Monomoy Lifesaving
Station. Four miles from the Chatham Station, four miles from Point
Rip, where it stands today discarded and deserted. There it stands
today amid the sand dunes and the hollows, a grim reminder of the
tragedy of Monomoy Beach. In 1915 the Life Saving Service was absorbed
by the Coast Guard and today if a young fellow wishes to become a
coastguardsman even though he has never been out over the surf in an
open boat, he sends in an application. Then there is the physical
and mental examination and if he obtains the required percentage,
everything else favorable, he is accepted. Then there is a brand new
uniform. But in 1902, the captains of those stations had the privilege
of selecting their own crew, and listen to me, they picked the very
best, men who had been down to the sea in ships, men who had served
their time on the Grand Banks, on Quero, and on George’s stormy shoal,
men who had been called out of their bunks in the dead of night, men
who had crawled aloft ratline by ratline during dark stormy nights and
smothered topsails, men who had weathered the gales of winter on the
Atlantic sea board. With due respect to the coast guardsmen of today,
they are nice fellows, their duties are altogether different, they look
fine in their new uniforms, but those men whose only uniform was their
oil cloths and boots, flannel shirts and khaki pants, those men who had
been down to the sea in ships, those men who had been over the surf in
open boats, as surfmen, were the very best the world produced. In 1902
the old Monomoy Lifesaving Station was manned with that caliber of men.
It was the duty of a lifesaver to patrol the beach, protect property,
and save lives. Their watch started at sunrise and ended at sunset.
From sunset until eight o’clock was what was called the “dog watch”.
Then the regular watch began. Two men were called out of their beds,
they dressed, went out down to the surf half-mile away and separated.
One went north and the other, south. The man who went north went until
he met the surfman from the Chatham Station. They exchanged checks,
told a few stories, discussed the news of the day, and then started
back. The one who went south went down to Point Rip four miles away
where there was a little shanty. In that shanty was a board seat and,
hanging on the wall, was a telephone connected to the station. Nailed
to the side of the wall was a chain and a key. He punched his time
clock with the key that was nailed to the wall and started back. The
two men met below the station at twelve o’clock. They went in, called
two more men who dressed, went out down to the surf and separated. One
went north and the other, south. So the watch continued.
Now the tragedy develops. It was on the fifteenth day of March,
1902. A tow was coming down over the shoals, a tug boat and two
barges. The outer barge was called the “Wadena”, the inner barge, the
“Fitzpatrick”. Coming down over the shoals in the fog and mist, the
captain misjudged his position just a little and was too far in. The
tide running in swept the barges onto Shovelful Shoal and they grounded
hard and fast. To clear up the situation and untangle the mess, the
tug boat signalled the “Wadena” to let go her hawser. After a time the
“Fitzpatrick” was floated, towed off into the channel in deeper water,
anchored to await further orders. Because the tug boat could be of no
assistance to the “Wadena” hard and fast on the shoal, because of shoal
water and treacherous tides, she steamed away to Hyannis to report to
the owners and underwriters. Because of that report, the next day, the
sixteenth, a Mr. Mack--William H. Mack, the agent and part owner of
those barges arrived at Monomoy Station and requested Captain Eldredge
to put him aboard the “Wadena”, Captain Eldredge and his crew launched
their lifeboat, took him aboard, went down on the inside, on the bay
side, out around Point Rip, across the channel, and put him aboard his
barge. They came back, secured the lifeboat, went up to the station,
and established a watch, and the time wore on. As time wore on Captain
Eldredge sensed there was bad weather coming. Remember in those days,
they had no radio to give them advanced information about the weather,
they had to judge for themselves. Captain Eldredge judged there was bad
weather coming and he was concerned because he felt responsible for
those men aboard the barge without protection. So, in the afternoon, he
mustered his crew, launched the lifeboat once more, went down on the
inside around Point Rip, across the channel, went alongside the barge,
climbed aboard, went down into the cabin and talked with Mr. Mack. He
advised him about the weather and urged him and the crew to come ashore
and stay at the station until better weather. But Mr. Mack replied,
“No, I refuse to desert my barge. It is nice and warm down here in the
cabin, we have plenty to eat, and plenty to drink. She is laying very
quietly here on the shoal and we will stay aboard.” After a while,
Captain Eldredge and his men went back. They loaded the lifeboat on the
gears, shoved her into the boat-house, closed the door, went up to the
station, and re-established their watch, waiting for night.
But in the late afternoon the watch reported to Captain Eldredge that
there was a dory going out of Powder Hole, now Powder Hole is a small
boat harbor down on the inside of Monomoy Beach. So the watch reported
that there was a dory going out of Powder Hole with one occupant. Since
it was their duty to know what was going on they watched this dory as
it went out around Point Rip. It headed off in the direction of the
“Fitzpatrick” anchored off in the channel. It went way off alongside
the barge. They saw the man climb up over the rail and disappear down
in the cabin. Now the question was “Who was the man?” It wasn’t any of
the crew of the “Fitzpatrick” who had been ashore--that was impossible
because they didn’t understand the tide rips and the surf, and besides
they had no dory. Now, who was that man? Just before dark it was seen
that the men had hoisted the dory up to the davit, indicating that
he was going to stay all night. The man of mystery! Why did the man
of mystery leave the Powder Hole? Why did he leave a warm fire and
row out in the face of an incoming gale to spend the night aboard the
“Fitzpatrick”? The man of mystery! But, don’t lose sight of the man
of mystery. He proved to be a hero in the tragedy which is about to
transpire.
That was the picture at sunset that night, the “Wadena” hard and fast
on Shovelful Shoal with Mr. Mack and four men aboard. The “Fitzpatrick”
anchored off in the channel with her crew and the man of mystery
aboard. Darkness settled down over Monomoy Beach and, as predicted by
Captain Eldredge the storm came on. It was a southeast gale with rain.
The seas rolled in from that tremendous expanse and pounded upon the
shore. The surfmen went their distance, down to Point Rip, punched
their time clocks, and back.