Boy With the U. S. Life-Savers

by William Henry Giles Kingston

  CHAPTER IV

  SNATCHED FROM A FROZEN DEATH

  "Father! Father! What do you think?" cried Eric, bursting into thesitting room at breakfast one morning, a couple of weeks after hisencounter with his young mining friend, "I'm going into the Life-Savingwork right away!"

  "What's the excitement?" his father asked, speaking for the rest of thefamily. "Cool down a bit, my boy, and tell us all about it."

  "I've--I've just got a letter from the Captain Commandant," repliedEric, fairly stuttering in his haste to tell the good news, "and he saysI can enlist in one of the lake stations until the close of navigation.I'll get some real practical training that way, he says, and then I cantake up prep. work for the Academy all winter."

  In view of the fact that there had been considerable correspondencebetween the ruling head of the Coast Guard and Mr. Swift, the oldinspector was less surprised than the boy expected. Not for the worldwould the lad's father have let him think that there had been anyconsultation about this plan. He wanted the boy to have the sense ofbeing "on his own"!

  "I remember now," he said, "you said something about writing along thatline a couple of weeks ago."

  "I did write, Father, I did want so awfully to get a chance. But Ihardly believed that they'd actually let me do it."

  "I don't see why they wouldn't. After all you told me about yourswimming, they ought to have made a special bid for you," he addedsmiling.

  "You don't mind my going, do you?"

  "I'm perfectly willing, my boy," his father said. "I'm sufficiently onto your curves, Eric, to know that it isn't much use trying to pin youdown to books while there are a few weeks of summer left. You'll be outof mischief at a Coast Guard station, that's one sure thing. I thinkI'll take you out to meet old Icchia, the veteran of the Lakes. He holdsthe record for one of the most sensational rescues in the history of theservice. I've often heard your Uncle Jim tell the story, but I won'tspoil the yarn for you by telling it myself, I'll let Icchia do that."

  "When can we go to see him, Father?"

  The old inspector smiled at his son's enthusiasm.

  "It happens that I've got to start off on an inspection trip to-morrow,which will take me away for a week or so," he answered, "so, if you haveno other plans, we might go to-day."

  "I'll get ready now!" cried Eric, jumping up from the table.

  "You'll do nothing of the kind," his father said rebukingly, while hismother smiled at the boy's impetuosity, "we won't go until after lunch,that is--if you can wait so long!"

  "All right, but isn't it bully!" and, unable to contain himself, Ericlaunched into a panegyric of the Life-Saving Service, most of thehistory of which he knew by heart.

  The lad's excitement increased tenfold when, that afternoon, theyapproached the little cottage of the old keeper. It was right on theseashore in an outlying suburb looking out over the peaceful stretch ofLake St. Clair.

  "Mr. Icchia," said the old inspector, after greetings had beenexchanged, "my boy here is going to join one of the lake stations and,to give him an idea of what the service can do, I want you to tell himthe story of that night off Chocolay Island."

  "It's a deal like beatin' a big drum," began the old keeper in aquavering voice, "to bid an ol' fellow like me tell of his own doin's!"

  "But you're not doing it to show off," Mr. Swift said, "I wouldn't askyou to do that. It's because I know you think a good deal of the Servicethat I wanted my boy to meet you, and to hear a real story oflife-saving told by one of the men who was in it."

  "It wasn't so much at that--" the old man began. But the lighthouseinspector interrupted.

  "Spin the yarn, Icchia," he said, "it's a poor trick to make a lot ofexcuses! Besides, it spoils the story."

  Now the old keeper had a firm belief in his own value as a story-tellerand it piqued his pride to have it thought that he was spoiling a goodyarn, so without further preamble he began.

  "I don' know what the world is comin' to," he said, after he had filledhis pipe and lit it, "but there's no sech winters to-day as there was inmy young days. I kin remember, when I wasn't no older'n that bub there,there was more snow in one winter 'n we have in five, now; an' LakeHuron was always friz up. Life-savin' was a lot harder in them days,ye'd better believe me, an' not only in the winter but all year round."

  "Why?" asked the boy.

  "There wasn't no sech lights then as there is now, for one thing, an' askipper had to keep his eyes peeled an' his lead goin'. An', for 'notherthing, in the days I'm talkin' of, they was mostly all sailin' craft.Now I'm not sayin' nothin' in favor of steamers--I was raised on anol'-time clipper. I will say that when a gale ain't too bad, a steamerkin handle herself more easy-like 'n a sailin' craft, when there ain'tbut a little seaway. But when she's blowin' good an' strong, an' thegale's got more heft 'n a steamer's screws, what use is her machines toher?"

  "Not much," said the boy.

  "Ye're sayin' it," the old keeper continued. "An' in the ol' days, whensteamers first run on the Lakes, they weren't no such boats as ye seenow. Our worst wrecks in them days were the steamers. This one, thatyour pappy wants me to tell ye 'bout, was a steamer an' a three-mastedfore-an'-after she had in tow.

  "This yarn I'm a spinnin' reely begins down at Marquette Breakwater. Itwas on the seventeenth day of November, an', let me see, it must havebeen in 'eighty-six, the same year my youngest was born. The winter hadbroke in early that year, not with any reel stormy weather, but jest abunch o' pesky squalls. An' cold! We was in the boat mighty near everyday, an' I used ter forget what bein' warm felt like. There was allerssomethin' hittin' a shoal or tryin' to make a hole in the beach. It wassqually an' shiftin', ye see. An' the mush-ice set in early."

  WRECKS! AND THE ICE BETWEEN!

  Steamer ashore near St. Joseph, Mich., under conditions all butimpossible for life-saving, yet not a soul was lost.

  Courtesy of U.S. Bureau of Lighthouses.]

  "What's mush-ice?" interrupted Eric.

  "Mush-ice," said the old keeper, "is a mixture of frozen spray, an' ice,an' bits o' drift, an' everythin' that kin freeze or be friz over,pilin' up on the beach. It's floatin', ye understan', an', as a rule,'bout two or three foot thick. Owin' to the movin' o' the water, itdon't never freeze right solid, but the surf on the beach breaks it intobits anywheres from the size of 'n apple to a keg. An' it joggles up 'n'down, 'n' the pieces grin' agin each other. It's jest a seesawin' edgeo' misery on a frozen beach."

  "That's as bad as Alaska!" exclaimed the boy.

  "It's a plumb sight worse," the other answered. "I ain't never been nofurther north 'n Thunder Cape, jest by Nipigon. An' what's more, I ain'tgoin'! But even up there, the ice freezes solid 'n' you kin do somethin'with it. Mush-ice never gits solid, but like some sort o' savage critterborn o' the winter, champs its jaws of ice, waitin' for its prey."

  "How do you like that, Eric?" asked his father. "That's some of the'fun' you're always talking about."

  "Can't scare me, Dad," replied Eric with a laugh. "I'm game."

  "Ye'll need all yer gameness," put in the old life-saver. "Wait till yehear the end o' the yarn! As I was sayin', it was in November. The fustbig storm o' the winter broke sudden. I never see nothin' come on soquick. It bust right out of a snow-squall, 'n' the glass hadn' given nowarnin'. We wa'n't expectin' trouble an' it was all we c'd do to savethe boats. Ye couldn't stand up agin it, an' what wasn't snow an' sleet,was spray.

  "All mornin' the gale blew, an' in the middle o' the afternoon thebreakwater went to bits. The keepers o' the light at the end o' thebreakwater lighted the lantern, 'n' you take my word for it, they weretakin' their lives in their hands in doin' it. Jest half 'n hour later,the whole shebang, light, lighthouse, 'n' the end o' the breakwater,went flyin' down to leeward in a heap o' metal 'n splinters.

  "Jest about that time, some folks down Chocolay way, lookin' out tosea, took a notion they saw what looked like white ghosts o' ships 'wayout on the bar. She was jest blowin' tiger cats with the claws out!'Twa'n't a da
y for no Atlantic greyhound to be out, much less a smallboat. But I tell ye, boy, when there's lives to be saved, there's allerssome Americans 'round that's goin' to have a try at it. Over the ice 'n'through the gale, eight men helpin', the fishermen o' Chocolay carried ayawl an' life-lines to the point o' the beach nearest the wreck. Fourmen clumb into her."

  "Without cork-jackets or anything?" asked Eric.

  "Without nothin' but a Michigan man's spunk. Well, siree, those four menclumb into that yawl, an' a bunch of others jumped into the mush-ice an'toted her 'way out to clear water. With a yell, the fisherman put hernose inter the gale an' pulled. But it wa'n't no use. No yawl what wasever made could have faced that sea. The spray friz in the air as itcome, an' the men were pelted with pieces of jagged ice, mighty near asbig 's a bob-cherry. Afore they was ten feet away from the mush, a seacome over 'n' half filled the boat. It wa'n't no use much ter bail, forit friz as soon's it struck. They hadn't shipped more'n four seas whenthe weight of ice on the boat begun to sink her."

  "Fresh water, of course," said Eric. "It would freeze quickly. I hadn'tthought of that."

  "In spite o' the ice," continued the veteran of seventy Lake winters,"two o' the men were for goin' on, but the oldest man o' the crowd made'em turn back. He was only jest in time, for as the yawl got back to theedge o' the mush she went down."

  "Sank?"

  "Jest like as if she was made o' lead."

  "And the men?" asked the boy eagerly.

  "They was all right. I told you it was nigh the beach. The crowd got tothe yawl 'n' pulled her up on shore. They burned a flare to let 'em knowaboard the wrecks that they was bein' helped an' to hold out a hope o'rescue, but there wasn't no answer. Only once in a great while could anyone on shore see those ghosts o' ships 'way out on the bar. An' everytime the snow settled down, it was guessin' if they'd be there next timeit cleared away, or not.

  "Seein' that there was nothin' doin' with the yawl, the crowd reckonedon callin' us in to the deal. We was the nearest life-savin' station toChocolay bar, an' we was over a hundred miles away."

  "A hundred miles!"

  "All o' that an' more. We was on Ship Island, six miles from Houghton.As I was sayin', seein' that nothin' could be done from their end, Cap'nJohn Frink, master of a tug, hiked off to the telegraph office atMarquette, 'n' called up Houghton. That's a hundred 'n' ten miles off,by rail. He told 'em o' the wrecks 'n' said he thought as we could get'em off if we could come right down. The wires were down betweenHoughton 'n' Ship Islan' and there wa'n't no way o' lettin' us know. Theoperators sent word all over, to try an' get a message to us, an' mightysoon nigh everybody on the peninsula knowed that we'd been sent for.

  "The skipper of a big tug in Houghton heard about it, jest as he wasgoin' to bed. He come racin' down to the wharf an' rousted out the crew.His engineer was still on board an' they got steam up like winkin'. Thegale was blowin' even worse up our way, but the old tug snorted into itjest the same. Out into the dark an' the snow an' the storm she snubbedalong, tootin' her whistle like as if it were the Day of Jedgment. An'if it had been," continued the old man in parenthesis, "no one would'veknown it in that storm!"

  "When did you see the tug?" queried the boy.

  "Couldn't see nothin'," was the answer, "we jest heard that ol' whistletoot. One o' the men guessed it was the big tug all right an' wonderedif she was ashore somewheres with a tow. But, fust thing we know, shecome up out o' the muck o' snow an' sleet an' the ol' skipper belleredto us through a speakin'-trumpet that he was come to take us to a wreck.We snaked the gear on to that tug in about half no time, takin' the bigsurf-boat an' all the apparatus. The tug was a blowin' off steam, likeas if she was connected to a volcaner. I tell you there must have beensome fire under them boilers. An' when we started--I'm an old hand, boy,but I'm tellin' ye that I never thought to see Houghton. The ol' skippersent that tug through at racin' speed like as if it was a moonlightsummer night an' he had all the sea-room in a couple of oceans.

  "'Air ye goin' to stop at Houghton?' I asks him, sort o' sarcastic, 'orare ye gittin' up speed enough to run on a mile or two after ye hit theshore?'

  "'Don't ye worry,' he said, with a short laugh, 'ye c'n tie my ears an'eyes up doorin' a hurricane, 'n' I can smell my way to port!'

  "An' I'm tellin' ye he did. Without nary a light nor nothin' to guidehim--for the snow was worse 'n any fog--he went full speed ahead. An'when he tinkled that little telegraph bell to the engine room, I waswonderin' if he was within ten miles o' the place. But as that craftslowed down, ye can b'lieve me or not 's you like, she glided up to herown pier like as if it was a ferry-boat in a dead calm.

  "'I've got to hand it to you, Cap'n,' I says to him, 'I wouldn't ha'believed it unless I seen it.'

  "'That's my end,' say the cap'n, 'I know my work, same's you know yours.I'm bettin' my pile on you fellers makin' good 'most any ol' time.' Mademe feel good, all right."

  "It sure does make a difference," put in Eric, "when you know thatpeople have confidence in you."

  "Right you are, boy," said the old keeper, and continued his story."That pier was jest a mass o' folks, thick as they c'd stand. An' whenthey saw the tug with us on board, they cheered, 'n' cheered, 'n'cheered. There was a dozen to grab the lines 'n' make 'em fast, 'n'before she was even tied up, a mob grabbed our boat an' apparatus an'rushed it to the railroad.

  "While we was a-comin' over the strait, the superintendent o' therailroad division was got up, 'n' told all about the wreck. He was aspry man, too, 'n' by the time the tug was in, he had orders out toclear the track 'n' a special train was waitin' in the station. She wasready fitted up with a couple of open cars for the boat an' apparatus,an' one coach for us.

  "They didn't let us touch nothin'.

  "'Keep your strength, men,' the superintendent said to the crew, 'myboys will put your stuff aboard.'

  "They did. That boat an' the apparatus an' everything else was aboardthat special, jest about as quick as we could climb into the cars. Wehad a special train all right! She jest whizzed along that track, notworryin' about nothin'. Signals didn't matter, for the track had beencleared in advance. The superintendent had come on the train with us.He'd wired ahead to Marquette, an' when we slowed up there was anotherbunch in the station to welcome us. The train was covered in ice an'snow, an' the front of the locomotive looked like a dummy engine madeout o' plaster o' Paris.

  "The station was alive with men, all just on edge with waitin'. They hadsleighs but no horses, the footin' was too bad. An' so the boat an' theapparatus-car was put on the sleighs, an' the men dragged it alongthemselves at a whole of a clip! They wouldn't even let us walk, buttoted us along in a sleigh, too."

  "Why?" asked Eric.

  "To keep us from bein' tired. We needed all the strength we had. An' wemade good time, I'm tellin' ye. They carried out the boat an' the cartto the beach an' then their end of it was done. It was up to us, now.An' I tell ye, I was anxious. There was somethin' mighty thrillin' inthat wild train ride through the night. I've often run big chances in aboat, but this was different-like. Usooally no one knows what we'redoin', but this time, the news was bein' flashed all over the country.

  "When we actooally got on the beach it didn't look so bad. The boatswere lyin' right on the bar 'bout two hundred 'n' fifty foot, off shore.We rigged the gun, loaded her, 'n' fired. I dropped a line jest abaftthe pilot-house, where we figured the men must be waitin'. It was a goodshot an' I reckoned that there wa'n't goin' to be no trouble at all. Itheartened me right up. We'd got there in time, an' first crack out o'the box, there was a line, right across the steamer. The path o' rescuehad been made!

  "But there was one thing I hadn't figured on."

  "What was that?" queried Eric excitedly.

  "The weather 'n' the cold. The seas had come up, over 'n' over thatsteamer, ontil the decks were one straight glare of ice. There wa'n'tnothin' a man could get hold of. If a sailor stepped out on that ice, hecouldn't stand, for she was heelin' over to port like the side of ahill. An
' the lee bulwark was torn away. Worst of all, the waves kep' adashin' over 'n' over without stoppin'. Our line wa'n't more'n fifteenfeet from the pilot-house, but no one couldn' get to that line withoutbein' washed off.

  "In a way, we'd done all that was necessary. We'd dropped a line wherethey'd ought to be able to get it. We couldn't know there wa'n't no wayfor 'em to do it. But when the minutes went by 'n' there was no signfrom the steamer, it begun to look bad. If it hadn't been for the ice onthe decks they was as good as rescued, but with the way it was, theywa'n't no better off, even with rescue fifteen feet away, than when ourcrew was a hundred miles off in Ship Island. There wa'n't nothin' forus to do but tackle the job ourselves.

  LAYING THE LYLE GUN.

  Courtesy of U.S. Coast Guard.]

  FIRING THE SHOT AND LINE.

  Note line being paid out from the faking-box. This shot carried a sixthof a mile.

  Courtesy of U.S. Coast Guard.]

  "The fishermen, the ones that had been out in the yawl, came aroun' an'said it couldn't be done. My coxswain agreed it couldn't be done, butwe'd do it just the same."

  "And you?" asked the boy.

  "I jest started gettin' the boat ready," the old keeper said, simply."It was 'way after midnight, reckon it was nearly one o'clock, an', ifanything, the sea was wilder. An' I felt nothin' so cold afore in all mylife. The women o' Chocolay, they was out that night, bringin' steaminmugs o' coffee. There's a deal o' credit comin' to them, too, the way Ilook at it."

  "I don't see that they could have done much less," said Eric.

  "Maybe aye, maybe no," said the veteran, "but I reckon, no matter howlittle a woman does, the right kind o' man's goin' to think it's a lot.Well, as I was sayin', I turned to the boys to launch the boat. We gothold of her by the rails an' waded in through the mush-ice, same as thefishermen had done. I tell you, it guv me a big sense o' pride in menlike our Michigan fishermen when I tackled what they'd tackled. Theyhadn't no cork-jackets, and they wa'n't rigged up for it. Their boatwa'n't built for no such work but they didn't stop to think o' their ownlives or their own boat. An' a fisherman's boat, like's not, is all he'sgot to make a livin' with. It makes a man feel good to think there'sother men like that!

  "That mush reached two hundred yards f'm land. I don't know how themfisher chaps ever got through the ice at all. It took us nigh half 'nhour to make the last hundred yards. When the water deepened so's wecould get into the boat, every man's clothes was drenched an' they frizright on to him. Every time we dipped the oars in that mush they'dstick, 'n' onless we'd pulled 'em out mighty fast they'd have friz rightthere. 'Bout every ten yards we had to chop the oar-locks free of icean' the only part of our slickers what wa'n't friz was where the muscleswas playin'. The cox'n, he looked like one of them petrified men ye readabout.

  "At last we got through the mush. All the way through it, with the loado' floatin' ice 'n' muck, the sea wa'n't tossin' much. But jest the veryminute we got clear of it an' started out, the sea hit us fair. I waspullin' stroke an' it didn't git me so hard, but the cox'n, who wasfacin' bow, got it full. The wind was dead ahead an' the sea wasa-tumblin' in as if there wa'n't no land between us an' the North Pole.

  "The blades o' the oars got covered with ice, makin' 'em round, likepoles, instead of oars, an' we couldn't get no purchase. I hit up thestroke a bit, exhaustin' though it was, 'n' maybe we made about twentyfeet further. She was self-bailin' or we'd ha' been swamped right away.Every sea that come aboard left a layer of ice, makin' her heavier tohandle. Then, suddenly, along comes a sea, bigger'n any before, an' ittakes that lifeboat 'n' chucks us back on the mush-ice, bang! The shocksmashes the rudder 'n' puts us out o' business. I forces the boat ashorefor repairs.

  "'Too bad,' says the railroad superintendent, to me; 'for a minute,there, I thought you were going to make it.'

  "'We jest are goin' to make it,' says I, 'if we have to swim!'

  "Then one o' those fisher chaps had a good idee. While we was a-fixin'up the rudder an' gittin' ready for another trip, the rest o' the crowdchops the ice off'n the boat, 'n' off'n the oars. Then this fisher chapI was a tellin' about, he comes back with a can of tallow an' smearsthat thick all over the boat an' the oars an' our slickers an' neareverything that he c'd find to put a bit o' tallow on."

  "What was that for?" queried Eric.

  "So as the water'd run off, o' course," the old man answered. "Itworked, too. In about twenty minutes we was off again, in the mush-ice,jest as afore. We hadn't had no chance to get warm, an' our clothes waswet an' friz. I thought sure some o' the men would be frost-bit. But Iguess we was all too tough.

  "The second trip started jest the same. As soon as we got out o' the icea breaker come along 'n' hove that boat 'way up, 'n' then chucked itback on the ice, smashin' the new rudder same's the old one.

  "I wa'n't goin' to have no monkey-business with rudders any more, 'n' Iyelled to Brown, he was the cox'n,

  "'Take 'n oar, Bill!'

  "He grabs a spare oar 'n' does all he knows how to steer with that.Again we druv our oars into it an' got out o' the ice, 'n' again itthrew us back. We did that five times 'n' then one of the fellers gothurt, when his oar struck a chunk of ice, 'n' we went ashore again. Ireckon we'd been at it nigh four hours, then."

  "I suppose you hadn't any trouble finding a volunteer?" the boy said.

  "We could ha' got nigh every man on the beach. But we took one o' thefishermen who had gone out on his own hook afore. If we was goin' to doany savin' it was on'y fair he should have a share o' the credit. An'then, any chap who was willin' to resk his life in a bit of a yawl inthat weather was worth puttin' in a boat.

  "So we'd had to make three starts afore we really got away an' clear o'the ice. I never see no such gale in all my days. It was an hour an'more, steady pullin' with every pound o' muscle in the crew, before wegot in reach o' the tug. An' then, when we was right up on her, therewa'n't one man aboard who come out to catch a line. We found out why,arterwards. The gale took us by her like we was racin', 'n' the boys hadto work like Sam Patch to get back. I guess it took nigh half 'n hour tocreep up to wind'ard of her again.

  "One o' my crew, a young fellow from Maine, as lively a little grig asever I see, volunteered to board her. We ran under her bow, an' somehowor other he clumb up on board, I swear I don't see how he ever done it,an' snaked a line round her funnel. I went aboard an' one other o' thecrew, a man we used to call Ginger.

  "Then we found out why the men aboard the steamer hadn't come out topick up our line. The door o' the pilot-house was smothered in ice,more'n an inch thick. Every window was friz in. We was sure up againstit. We couldn't stand on the glassy deck, 'n' there was no way to getthe men out. The surf-boat was a-ridin' twenty fathom behind, we'd lether out on a long line, an' there was another cold wait while we hauledher up an' got an ax out of her. We lashed ourselves fast or we'd ha'gone over the side, sure.

  "When Ginger, who was an old lumber-jack, gits the ax, he slides alongto the pilot-house, an' starts to chop. He'd been choppin' jest about aminute when along comes a sea, smashes one o' the ventilators an' hurlsit along the deck. The cussed thing hits Ginger jest as he's swingin'the ax, 'n' sweeps him overboard.

  "The crew in the surf-boat see him go an' they cast off the line an'picked him up. But, with two men shy, it was a full hour afore the boatworked back to place to catch our line. They must ha' pulled like fiendsto git thar at all. By the time they'd made it, we'd managed to getthrough that door an' the crew o' the tug was ready to be taken in theboat. It was jest six hours from the time we landed on the beach atChocolay before we got the first man ashore."

  "And the crew of the schooner?" queried the boy.

  "We got them off without no trouble. They was sailors! We jest hove aline aboard 'n' got 'em into the boat. They hadn't suffered much. Theschooner was higher on the shoal 'n the tug, bein' lighter, 'n' themen'd been able to stay below. They'd kep' a couple o' lookouts on thejob, relievin' 'em every hour shipshape and Bristol fashion."

 
; "How many men did you rescue?" the boy asked.

  "Nine men from the steamer 'n' six from the schooner. It was nigh eightin the mornin' before they was all ashore, drinkin' coffee an' gittin'eats. The women o' the commoonity was still on the job. I'm doubtin' ifwe could ha' ever made it without somethin' like that. We wa'n't any toosoon, neither."

  "Why not?"

  "In less 'n an hour after we got 'em ashore the tug capsized 'n' wentto pieces. The old schooner stood it out better, but she was pretty mucha wreck, too, when the weather cleared. We'd our work to do, 'n' we doneit. Jest the same, I've allers had a feelin' as if there was as much tobe said for the fishermen, 'n' the train-hands, 'n' the cap'n o' thetug, 'n' all the rest that j'ined in.

  "It's the biggest rescue on the lakes, but there's nothin' morewonderful in it to me than the way it shows how everybody gets in 'n'gives a hand when help is needed. Don't ye ever forget, in times o'need, that ye've only got ter call, 'n' some one's goin' to hear. An'ye're like enough ter need help in the life-savin' business. I ain'tsaying as storms is as bad now as they was, but there's enough of 'emstill ter keep any crew right on the jump."

  "I'll remember, Mr. Icchia," the boy replied, "and I'll be mighty proudif I can ever do half as well. I'm proud enough, now, just to be giventhe chance."

  The old man knocked the ashes from his pipe on his horny andweather-beaten hand and answered,

  "As long as there's life-savin' to be done, there's goin' ter belife-savers to do it. I don' hold with none o' this nonsense ye hearsometimes about the world gittin' worse. If ever I did get that idee,I'd only have to go 'n' look at a surf-boat, 'n' I'd know different.It's a good world, boy, 'n' the goodness don't lay in tryin' to be ahero, but jest in plain bein' a man."

  GOLD LIFE-SAVING MEDAL.

  Given only in recognition of heroism wherein loss of life was risked bythe rescuer.

  Courtesy of U.S. Coast Guard.]