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  • Richard Ryder (c.1877 - d.)
  • Wilbur Curtis Chase (1876 - 1939)
    Surfman/USCGLSS Monomoy Station/Pamet -Eastham: **Wilbur Curtis Chase**- Back Row On LEFT side- Back row standing in Middle( Orin Higgins) Back Row Right Side( Whitman Howes). Photo Added by Elwin C. N...
  • Alfred Nickerson Chase (1872 - 1957)
    Served Many years At The USCG-LSS- ROCKPORT, Massachusetts /ECN/
  • Henry Nickerson USLSS (1841 - 1877)
    Friday afternoon, Mr. Henry Nickerson, a member of the crew of Life Saving Station 14, while at work on the Italian bark Papa Luigi C., fell from the maintopsail yard of the vessel to the deck, strikin...
  • Elwin C Nickerson (1867 - 1938)
    Surfman Creed When the Lord breathes His wrath above the bosom of the waters, When the rollers are a-pounding on the shore, When the mariner's a-thinking of his wife and son's and daughters, And the ...

ADDED by Elwin C. Nickerson- USLSS- Taken From My Family Documents/Files/Books. I'm adding this Dedication from my Personal Signed Copy given to me By My Grandmother upon Graduation. "JOSHUA JAMES" Non Pareil- Sumner I Kimball- 1909- GENERAL Superintendent Of The Life Saving Service. This Sums it up I think Best as A Prelude to the Brave Men of Americas " SURFMEN" as they were called by The US Treasury Dept. Better Known Among Themselves- SAND POUNDERS" NO Finer Examples Of Sturdy American Manhood can anywhere be found than in the crews of the United States Life-Saving Service. These Little groups of from seven to ten men each,numbering in the aggregate a scant Two Thousand,are composed of Robust, Warm-Hearted, and Strong -Handed Residents of The Coast,chosen for the most part from those who,through their previous occupations as Fisherman,Boatmen and Wreckers, have gained a thorough familiarity with the changeful moods of Sea,and especially with the peculiarities of currents,Reefs,Bars,and Surf in the region of their respective habitations. - When the Tropical Hurricane or Chilling Blast of the Artic Winter Storm is Driving their Helpless craft into danger and possible destruction, or when impenetrable Fog envelops them for days at a time,rendering charts and reckoning worthless, the assurance that a practically continuous line of Keen-Eyed and Sleepless Sentinels March and Countermarch along the Surf-Beaton Beaches or Stand Guard with Warning Signals in Hand upon the Jutting Clifs. ****On March 19, 1902, Joshua was reeling with distress over a major disaster on Monomoy Island off Cape Cod. Two days earlier, all but one of the Monomoy Life-Saving Station crew had died during a rescue attempt, drowned by the panicking wreck victims they were endeavoring to save. Ordering his men into their boats for practice early on the 19th, for the second straight day of hard drilling, the Point Allerton crew tested a new self-bailing, self-righting surfboat. After working at the steering oar for over an hour, Joshua ordered the boat ashore, and then collapsed on the sand, dying instantly. Local legend claims that the world-famous mariner uttered the words, “the tide is ebbing....” with his final breath.****////Surfman Creed

When the Lord breathes His wrath above the bosom of the waters, When the rollers are a-pounding on the shore, When the mariner's a-thinking of his wife and son's and daughters, And the little home he'll, maybe see no more;

When the bars are white and yeasty, and the shoals are all a-frothing, When the Nor'easter's cutting like a knife; Through the seethin' roar and screech he's patroling on the beach, The Government's hired man for saving life.

He's a-struggling with the gusts that strike and bruise him like a hammer; He's a-fighting sand that stings like swarmin' bees, He's a-listening through the whirlwind and the thunder and the clamor, A-listening for the signal from the seas.

He's a-breaking ribs and muscles launching lifeboats in the surges, He's dripping wet and chilled in every bone, He's a-bringing men from death, back to flesh and blood and breath, And never stops to think about his own.

He's a pulling at an oar that is freezing to his fingers, he's a-clinging to the rigging of a wreck. He knows destructions nearer every minute that he lingers; But it doesn't seem to worry him a speck.

He is draggin' draggled corpes from the clutches of the combers, The kind of job a common man would shirk; But he takes them from the waves and fit them for graves, And he thinks it's all included in his work.

He is a rigger, rower, swimmer, sailor, doctor, undertaker, And he's good at every one of them the same; And he risks his life for others in the quicksand and the breakers, And a thousand wives and mothers bless his name.

He's an angel dressed in oilskins; he's a saint in the "Sou'wester," He's a pluck as they come, or ever can; He's a hero born and bred, but it hasn't swelled his head, For he's just the U.S. Government's hired man. /ECN/