One of the rules of the service was that at daybreak the morning watch
should go up into the lookout and see if anything had transpired during
the night that hadn’t been seen. The next morning, the morning of the
seventeenth, this was the fatal day, the watch reported to Captain
Eldredge that he couldn’t see the “Wadena”. In fact he couldn’t see the
end of his beat. It was another one of the rules that if you couldn’t
see the end of your beat because of thick weather, it was your duty
to dress up, sailors called it dressing up when they put on their oil
clothes and boots, and go down until you could see. So the watch was
preparing to go when Captain Eldredge changed his mind for some reason
or other and said to the watch, “Never mind. You stay where you are.
I’ll dress up and go and see how it looks down at Point Rip.” He put on
his oil clothes, boots, and sou’wester. He went down to the surf and
headed south for Point Rip four miles away. The lookout watched him as
he went and after a while he slowly disappeared in the mist. Before
Captain Eldredge was promoted captain of the old Monomoy Lifesaving
Station he had been a surfman for twelve years, for twelve years he
had patrolled the beach, night and day, in all kinds of weather. But
this morning as he went down, this morning as he disappeared in the
mist, he was taking his last walk. He was walking his last mile. In
an hour and three-quarters he arrived at the little shanty but he
couldn’t see. So he went way down to the end of the beach, climbed up
on a sand dune, and looked off. At first he couldn’t see, but after
a while, there came a rift in the mist. Then he saw. There was the
“Wadena” still hard and fast on the shoal, the rift widened and then
he saw, there in her rigging was the American Flag, union down, a
signal of mutiny or distress. In every great tragedy, in every great
disaster, there are men sitting at home beside the fire who offer
criticism. Men criticized Captain Eldredge because he went out at that
particular time when the tide was running to the windward kicking
up a nasty treacherous sea, but we must remember that there wasn’t
a cowardly cell in the make-up of Captain Eldredge. If anything, he
was too courageous. There was the American Flag, union down. To him,
it was “go” rather than be branded a coward forever or impeached for
insubordination. The American flag union down, he had no alternative,
it was go even though he knew he was going down into the valley of the
shadow of death, he hesitated not a minute. He hastened over to the
shanty, called the station, got the number one man on the wire who
happened to be Seth Linwood Ellis of Harwichport. He said, “Ellis,
the “Wadena” has her colors in the rigging. We are going off. Launch
the small boat, come down on the inside. I will walk over across and
you can pick me up.” Men have criticized Captain Eldredge because he
ordered the small boat. At that time the old Monomoy Station had but
two lifeboats. One, called the small boat which was kept down in the
boat house on the inside just above the high water-mark. The other
was called the large boat built right up to date at that time. They
kept her in the boat house connected with the station, something like
a half-mile from the water. Captain Eldredge knew that it would be a
tremendous task to launch the big boat, haul her down over the sand
dunes down in the hollows and through the sand, especially when they
were short-handed. So, influenced by the American Flag union down, to
save time he ordered the small boat. Seth Linwood Ellis, obeying the
orders of his superior, launched the small boat. They went down on
the inside and as they went down, they saw Captain Eldredge standing
way out on the beach. They went in as close as they could and Captain
Eldredge waded out, climbed aboard, and took the steering oar. Seth
Linwood Ellis took the after thwart, shipped his oar, and they were
ready to proceed. But before they proceed let’s look at the boat. This
was a lapstreak boat. Suppose you live in a clap-boarded house, turn it
upside down, throw in about ten or fifteen feet of water, and jump in
and try to save yourself, by clinging to those clapboards with a half
inch margin, three inch space, and half inch margin. When that boat
was bottom up, the only thing they had to cling to was those half-inch
margins.
Who was in the boat at the time? We may as well know because their
names are engraved on the granite monument down by Chatham Light. That
monument is going to be there a long time and when we read those names
we want to know what it was all about. There was Arthur W. Rogers of
North Harwich. A typical Cape Codder, he stood six feet tall, weighed
185, was married, and had one child. There was Valentine D. Nickerson.
He was a twin, he had a twin brother by the name of Charlie. He stood
six feet tall, weighed 185, and was hard and wiry. He lived at the
junction of Main Street and Great Western Road in the depot section in
a house now occupied by the family of Joseph Munroe. He had a wife and
four girls. Osborne F. Chase. He was a short thick-set man. He had been
a surfman a long time, he was very capable and dependable. He lived
at the corner of South and Main Streets in the depot section a short
distance from Valentine D. Nickerson. He had a wife and three girls.
Next Elijah Kendrick, the youngest of them all, was born and brought
up on Gorham Road in South Harwich in a house now owned by Edward
N. Johnson. At the time of the disaster he lived in Harwich Center
opposite the ball-park. The house has been moved away. He was married
and had a boy and girl. Then there was Edgar C. Small of Harwich
Center. The counterpart of Valentine Nickerson, hard and wiry, he was
born and brought up on the Harwich-Chatham Road in a house now owned by
a man by the name of Harry Young. He had a wife, son and daughter. Seth
Linwood Ellis who lived on Freeman Street in Harwichport, stood six
feet, weighed 190, and had a wife and son. In his younger days he was
noted for his dogged determination, physical stamina and perserverance.
He was the only surfman who went down to Point Rip the night of the
Portland Blizzard and returned.