The fourth shot proved successful, and after the brig’s crew secured the line, the whip was attached to it and those on the wreck hauled off until the whip was within their reach. The two surfmen tending the shore ends soon felt several pulls, which they interpreted as a signal that the tail-block had been made fast on the brig. Now the lee part of the whip was bent on to the hawser close to the tally-board, {17a} and while one man saw that it did not foul the hawser, others manned the weather whip and thus hauled the hawser off to the wreck. The breeches buoy block {17b} was next attached, after which operations were suspended until a signal should be received from the stranded vessel that the hawser had been made fast to one of the masts. The length of time that the brig’s crew required to perform this ordinarily simple act told the life-savers, as plainly as words could have done, how greatly they were exhausted by their two hours’ exposure to the bitter wind and icy spray. Their stiffened fingers at length gave the signal, and the station crew quickly hauled in the slack of the hawser. The crotch was now raised, which had the effect of elevating the hawser above the surface of the ocean sufficiently for the breeches buoy to travel upon it without touching the water. All was ready, and the keeper ordered: “Man lee whip—haul off!” As the buoy slid easily along the hawser and vanished in the darkness towards the wreck, the pent-up feelings of the villagers burst forth. The boys yelled, shouted hurrahs, and danced like sprites about the fire, upon which they flung more drift-wood. Men and women pressed closer about the keeper and his assistants, shading their eyes with their hands, as they strove to follow the course of the buoy. Lips moved and limbs trembled, but as much from excitement as from cold. At this juncture the Fourth Cliff crew arrived, having toiled for two hours through snow-drifts, and over loose stones, with their heavy apparatus. It had been found impossible to obtain horses in the neighborhood without great delay, and the men were thus compelled to set out without them. The major part of the work of rescue was already done, allowing the half-frozen crew time to warm themselves at the fire, where they held themselves in readiness to render instant service. The signal from the brig having been given, Captain Litchfield commanded: “Man weather whip—haul ashore!” The men hauled in the whip with a will, while the villagers, eager to get a glimpse of the approaching buoy and its human freight, crowded about until the keeper was compelled to order them back.