off to the wreck and bringing the crew, including the captain's wife, to shore safely in the breeches buoy. The assembly flag had been hoisted on the stations as soon as the wreck was sighted and on the arrival of the crew, the sea having moderated somewhat, the surf boat was launched and the wreck boarded. The seas were sweeping over the after-part of the vessel and it was with much difficulty that they managed to save many of the personal effects of the crew. The wreck master and his crew stood by the wreck until the 17th of June, when tugs from Boston succeeded in getting her off on an extremely high tide and towed her to that port.

Vessels are wrecked also on account of their cargo shifting in a heavy gale. This makes the vessels unmanageable to a great extent and starts them leaking. At such times the crew must keep constantly pumping till exhausted or the water in the hold gains on them too fast. Then the captain beaches the vessel. Under such conditions the British schooner Lily was put ashore by her captain fifteen miles east of Cape Cod light on the morning of January 3, 1901. The patrol of the Nauset Life Saving Station saw the signals of distress at daylight and the crew immediately tried to launch the life-boat. It was found impossible to do so however. and a short time afterward the captain of the schooner hoisted sail and beached his vessel about two and a quarter miles south

of the Nauset Station and the crew left the vessel and reached the shore safely in their own boat.

An instance of where the cargo of a vessel was saved, owing principally, however, to its being lumber, was in the British threemasted schooner, John S. Parker. She became unmanageable in a heavy northeast gale and struck the Orleans beach at 2.30 A.M., November 7, 1901, coming in far enough, fortunately, to allow a line to be shot aboard; and the crew of six men were saved by means of the breeches buoy. After the storm was over, the lumber was thrown overboard and hauled ashore by means of an endless line. The vessel itself, however, was a total loss.

The Gloucester fisherman, Elsie M. Smith, had made a successful trip to the Banks and was loaded with a full fare of fish homeward bound, when within a day's run of home she was wrecked on February 13, 1902. Proceeding under shortened sail in a northeast gale and driving snowstorm, for two days the crew had not seen the sun, and it was impossible for them to tell where they were. With hardly a moment's warning, the little vessel struck the beach two miles south of the Orleans Life Saving Station and on the instant commenced to break up. They attempted to launch one of their small fishing boats, but when two of the crew had dropped into her, she was forced away from the side of the vessel by a heavy sea which

parted the painters, and being unmanageable the boat was swamped and the two men drowned. The seas were now breaking over the schooner's entire length and the remaining thirteen men of the crew were driven to the fore rigging. The vessel was sighted from the beach almost as soon as she struck and in a few moments a line was successfully shot over the forestay, the breeches buoy rigged and the thirteen men saved. The vessel and cargo were a total loss and she broke up in a few hours.

Probably no location on either the Atlantic or Pacific coasts has had so large a number of vessels stranded on its beach as this long stretch of white sand known as Cape Cod, which reaches out into the ocean from eastern Massachusetts, and it is due to the efficient life saving service instituted by the Government that so many lives are saved.

In almost every graveyard in the little villages along this coast are buried the bodies washed ashore from wrecked vessels. Generally the names are not known and no clue is found on the bodies by which they can be identified; but a careful record is kept in the archives of each vil

lage of such interments, giving the name of the ship, the date on which it came ashore, and the date the body was picked

up.

Every few miles along the beach the Government has life saving stations and a crew on duty at each of them ten months in the year. These stations are connected by telephone and also with the house of the district superintendent. A local physician is appointed for each district and all bodies that come ashore must be inspected by him before interment. The marine underwriters also appoint an agent to each district, known as the wreck master of the coast and he, in their behalf, does what he can to save all property of the vessels and if possible the vessels themselves.

Few people realize the judgment and courage shown by the captains and crews of these stations, or the hardships endured in patroling the beach during the cold and bitter winter storms. They lead a lonely life, the salary is small and the danger great.

All praise to the gallant souls whose lives are devoted to the saving of men who go down to the sea in ships.

THE STORY OF JAMES WHITE

FIRST EXPLORER OF THE GRAND CANON

THE

HE expedition led by Major Powell which descended the Colorado River through the Grand Cañon is generally credited with the first authentic passage of that perilous region. This daring feat was accomplished in 1868. A year before that date, however, a prospector named James White went down the Colorado on a frail raft, and after incredible suffering and dangers, reached a settlement and lived many years thereafter to tell the story which has been hidden away in the dusty files of a geological report.

There has been preserved also a letter from this humble hero, written to his brother shortly after he passed through the Cañon. This letter which is reproduced herewith, together with the official report of the adventure, form a remarkable chapter in the history of the discovery of the unknown west.

In January, 1868, C. C. Parry, an assistant geologist of the Union Pacific Railroad Survey, happened to meet James White at Hardyville on the Colorado, and in a report to the president of the company he included the following narrative as he received it from its hero:

"James White, now living at Callville, on the Colorado River, formerly a resident of Kenosha, Wisconsin, was induced to join a small party for the San Juan region, west of the Rocky Mountains, in search of placer gold diggings. The original party. was composed of four men, under the command of a Capt. Baker.

"The party left Fort Dodge on the 13th of last April, and after crossing the plains, completed their outfit for the San Juan country in Colorado City, leaving that place on the 20th of May. Proceeding by way of South Park and the Upper Arkansas they crossed the Rocky Mountains, passing around the head-waters of the Rio Grande,

till they reached the Animas branch of the San Juan River. Here their prospecting for gold commenced, and being only partially successful, they continued still farther to the west, passing the Dolores and reaching the Mancas, which latter stream was followed down to the main valley of the San Juan.

"Crossing the San Juan at this point they continued down the valley in a westerly direction for about two hundred miles, when the river entered a cañon. Here they again crossed to the north bank, and leaving the river passed across a mountain ridge aiming to reach the Colorado River. In a distance of fifty miles over a very rugged country, they reached this latter stream, or rather its main eastern tributary, Grand River. At the point where they first struck the river it was inaccessible on account of its steep rocky banks; they accordingly followed up the river in search of a place where water could be procured.

"At an estimated distance of twelve miles they came upon a side cañon, down which they succeeded in descending with their animals and procuring a supply of water. They camped at the bottom of this ravine on the night of the 23d of August, and on the morning of the 24th started to ascend the right bank to the table-land. In making this ascent they were attacked by Indians, and Capt. Baker, being in advance, was killed at the first fire. The two remaining men, James White and George Strole, after ascertaining the fate of their comrade, fought their way back into the cañon, and getting beyond the reach of the Indians, hastily unpacked their animals, securing their arms and a small supply of provisions, and proceeded on foot down to the banks of Grand River. Here they constructed a raft of dry cottonwood, composed of three sticks, ten feet in length and eight inches in diameter, securely tied together by lariat ropes, and having stored away their arms and provisions,

they embarked at midnight on their adventurous voyage.

"The following morning, the 25th of August, they made a landing, repairing their raft by some additional pieces of dry cedar, and continued on their course. The river here was about two hundred yards wide, flowing regularly at a rate of two and a half to three miles per hour. According to their estimate they reached the mouth of Green River, and entered the main Colorado thirty miles from the point of starting. Below the junction the stream narrows, and is confined between perpendicular walls, gradually increasing in elevation. At an estimated distance of forty miles from Green River they passed the mouth of the San Juan, both streams here being hemmed in by perpendicular walls. From this point the cañon was continued, with only occasional breaks formed by small side cañons equally inaccessible with the main chasm. Still they experienced no difficulty in continuing their voyage, and were elated with the prospect of soon reaching the settlements on the Colorado below the Great Cañon.

"On the 28th, being the fourth day of their journey, they encountered the first severe rapids, in passing one of which, George Strole was washed off, and sank in a whirlpool below. The small stock of provisions was also lost, and when White emerged from the foaming rapids he found himself alone, without food, and with gloomy prospects before him for completing his adventurous journey. His course now led through the sullen depths of the Great Cañon, which was a succession of fearful rapids, blocked up with masses of rock, over which his frail raft tumbled and whirled, so that he had to adopt the precaution of tying himself fast to the rocking timbers.

"In passing one of these rapids his raft parted and he was forced to hold on to the fragments by main strength, until he effected a landing below in a shallow eddy, where he succeeded, standing waist deep in water, in making necessary repairs, and started again. One can hardly imagine the gloomy feelings of this lone traveler, with no human voice to cheer his solitude, hungry, yet hopeful and resolute, closed in on every side by the beetling cliffs that shut out sunlight for the greater part of the

long summer day, drenched to the skin, sweeping down the restless current, shooting over foaming rapids and whirling below in tumultuous whirlpools, ignorant of what fearful cataracts might yet be on his unswerving track, down which he must plunge to almost certain destruction; still, day after day, buoyed up with the hope of finally emerging from his prison walls and feasting his eyes on an open country with shaded groves, green fields and human habitations.

"The mouth of the Colorado Chiquito was passed on the fourth day in the evening, the general appearance of which was particularly noted, as he was here entangled in an eddy for two hours, until rescued as he says, 'by the direct interposition of Providence.' The general course of the river was noted as very crooked, with numerous sharp turns, the river being shut in on every side by precipitous walls of 'white sand rock.' These walls present a smooth, perpendicular, and occasionally overhanging surface extending upward to a varied height and showing a distant line of high-water mark thirty to forty feet above the then water level.

"His estimate of the average height of the Cañon was three thousand feet, the upper edge of which flared out about halfway from the bottom, thus presenting a rugged crest. The last two days in the Cañon, dark-colored igneous rocks took the place of the 'white sandstone,' which finally showed distant breaks on either side, till he reached a more open country containing small patches of bottom land and inhabited by bands of Indians. Here he succeeded in procuring a scanty supply of Mezquite bread, barely sufficient to sustain life till he reached Callville on the 8th of September, just fourteen days from the starting, during seven of which he had no food of any description.

"When finally rescued this man presented a pitiable object, emaciated and haggard from abstinence, his bare feet literally flayed from constant exposure to drenching water, aggravated by occasional scorchings of a vertical sun; his mental faculties, though still sound, liable to wander and verging close on the brink of insanity. Being, however, of a naturally strong constitution, he soon recovered his usual health, and is now a stout, hearty,