FISHERMEN'S OWN BOOK. 149 



waters. A few bodies were recovered, but the majority sleep in watery 

 graves. 



The sufferings of the crew of the ill-fated Powivow of Provincetown were 

 frightful. The hour of 4 A. M. found them drifting helplessly to the lee 

 shore of Wellfleet. With the hope of checking their drift they anchored, 

 but the chain of their larger anchor parted and the vessel dragged the 

 smaller one as if it had been a pound weight. Then, as the tempest lulled, 

 "Hoist the jib," shouted the captain, "and we'll run her through the surf." 

 With great difficulty the sail was partially hoisted and the vessel's head 

 swung towards the land. But alas ! she struck in the outer breakers. The 

 great billows broke over her and in an instant she filled. A signal of dis- 

 tress was lighted, but was soon extinguished. "Set the kerosene afire," 

 ordered Capt. Caton; "we must let the station men know we are here." 

 This was done. Thank heaven, an answering signal was heard, and in the 

 course of a half hour they discerned a horse and cart moving towards them 

 along the beach, bearing a large box containing the patent rescue gun. A 

 long hour crept by, but there came no other signs of succor. Their hopes 

 fell. So cold were they that it was with difficulty they clung to the rigging. 

 Drenched every moment with icy water, they were soon benumbed. One 

 huge fellow, with the muscles of a Hercules, was three times washed away 

 from the vessel. Twice he regained his hold, but the third time his strength 

 failed, and he sank to rise no more. As the dreary morning passed two 

 others gave up the struggle, and releasing their grasp, were swept away. 

 One poor boy, named James Downling. whose home was in Boston, suc- 

 cumbed to the cold. "I can't stand it any longer, Captain," said he, "I 

 am going to die." When last seen by the survivors he was lying in the lee 

 scuppers, his head hanging listlessly to one side, his hair matted with ice, 

 and his arms clutching in their death-grip a coil of frozen rope. And at 

 last the captain whispered hoarsely, "Good-bye, boys, I shall try for the 

 shore. May God keep me for my poor wife's sake." A dory was got over 

 the side, but was crushed in an instant. Capt. Caton then tore off the cabin 

 skylight, and heaving it overboard, sprang after it. His support was soon 

 wrenched from his grasp, but he struggled manfully. He reached the shore ; 

 twice he stood erect on the sand, but the undertow was too powerful, and 

 he was drawn under the surf. The ten men who remained on the vessel 

 were destined to be saved. After daylight the Life Saving Station men, who 

 had previously been devoting their energies to the vain attempt of rescuing 

 the crew of the other wreck, arrived. The first time they fired the mortar 

 the ball with the line attached fell over the spring-stay, but the men were so 

 chilled with cold that it was impossible to get it. After several trials, how- 

 ever, the line fell where they could reach it. At 10 A. M. they were all 

 ashore and were tenderly cared for at the Humane House. 



