In those days no life savers patrolled the beach to lend a rescuing hand and the first intimation of the disaster was when, during a temporary rift in the fog the light keeper, from the cliffs, discovered the stranded ship. The alarm quickly spread to all the neighboring farm houses and to the village, from all directions men came hurrying to the beach, hoping in some way to be able to aid the suffering sailors on the wreck, which by this time was fast being smashed to pieces by the thunderous waves which pounded upon her partly submerged hull. Her masts had already been torn from her decks and with tangled rigging and strips of sail thrashed her sides in a constant fury. Many of her crew had been crushed to death and their bodies swept into the boiling surf. When the spars went down others could be seen clinging to such portions of the wreck as yet remained above the angry waters, and their screams for help could be heard above the wild roar of the awful surf, by the watchers on the shore, utterly powerless to render the least assistance. At this moment down the cliffs came running two young men, just home from a fishing voyage. They had not even stopped to visit their homes and families, but hearing of the wreck had hurried to the beach. Lying on the sands of the shore was a fisherman’s dory, a small boat, about twelve feet in length, such as small fishing vessels use and carry on their decks. These men were Daniel Cassidy and Jonathan Collins. Immediately they seized this boat and ran it quickly over the sands to the edge of the surf. The watchers on the beach stood aghast, and when they realized that these men intended to launch this frail skiff into that raging sea strong cries of protest arose from every one. “Why, men,” they said, “you are crazy to do this, you cannot possibly reach that ship, and your lives will pay the forfeit of your foolhardy attempt.” But in the face of the earnest pleadings of their friends and neighbors they pushed their boat into the gale-driven surf and headed her towards the wreck. Their last words were, “We cannot stand it longer to see those poor fellows being swept into the sea, and we are going to try to reach them.” Standing with my mother and holding by her hand on the cliffs overlooking the scene I saw the little boat, with the two men pulling bravely at the oars. They had hardly gone fifty yards from the shore when a great white cataract of foam and rushing water was hurled towards them. The next instant it buried men and boat under its sweeping torrent as it swept onward towards the beach with the overturned dory riding its crest; two human heads rose for a moment through the seething sea, only to be covered by the next on-rushing wave, and they were seen no more. Darkness soon settled over the terrible scene, the cries of the despairing sailors grew fainter and ceased, while the mad waves rushed unceasingly towards the shore. The watchers, believing that every sailor had perished, turned away and