The year was 1891, when disaster befell an unsuspecting crew of fishermen off the coast of Delaware.

They had set sail over the open sea, casting their nets like any other day. Evening came, when the lookout spotted preliminary warning signs of a storm brewing. Thinking they had enough time to squeeze in more work before the storm-clouds arrived, captain and crew agreed to continue fishing. By the dark of nightfall they had a catch so great, they thought it well-worth the risk. Their excitement over the loads of fish now in the hold made them all but forget the impending tempest, until it was much too late.

Suddenly, a steady wind picked up, and the crew realized they were in for the worst. The steady wind grew into a howling raging gale, whipping the sails, snapping rigging, dumping torrents of rain upon the insignificant water craft as it was tossed amidst the waves. Fighting the currents at the tiller, the captain resolved to turn south towards Fenwick, being their only chance of escape. To his dismay, his plan was interrupted by a loud scraping sound rumbling from beneath his feet. Seamen aboard the ship fought for their balance as the ship ground to an instant halt. They were stuck upon a shoal. Any waterman knew this could spell doom for a crew, for once a ship was caught, they had no more control over it, and the likelihood of capsizing increased tremendously. Only one thing could help them now, thought the captain, and so he shouted, "Send out a flare!"

Crewmen flopping on the deck battled the wind and rain to obey his order...

Trudging along the rain-soaked shore, a patrolman of the Indian River Life-Saving Station held his hand over his eyes against the stinging rain and sand. He had set out on his north-bound patrol like any other night, taken by surprise at the present rainstorm. Seeing no signs of ships ahead of him, he did an about-face, thinking to return to the station with no report. The moment he turned around was when he saw it: a distant glow soaring upwards into the sky above the water. Someone was out there. He could barely make out the silhouette of a sloop caught on the shoals. Noting its position, the patrolman made haste to call help from the station.

It was not long before a company of more than a dozen rescuers was running for the appointed location, toting their trusty – and heavy – surf-boat. Their hope was to paddle out to the grounded ship and collect any survivors to bring them ashore. As they reached the shore, the patrolman looked to where he had seen the ship, but nothing was there. Fearing what this could mean, the company spread out across the storm-torn beach, looking for signs.

Moments later, one of the men found what they were looking for. A sign – and just the sort of sign they dreaded. It was a body, contorted and mangled. As was expected in the Life-Saving Service, finding one body usually meant they would find more. That was when they found the ship, if it could still be called that. It had washed up on shore, its hull now like a spool around which wrapped the mast and rigging. This sight was most disturbing. The ship had not only capsized, but somersaulted, rolling over on itself multiple times.

From that moment on, the shoremen of the Life-Saving did not hold high hopes of finding any survivors. After more hours of searching, their fears were verified. Not one man from that fishing boat was recovered alive.

Shortly after the tragedy, the rescuers were investigated for proper procedure, but all charges against them were dropped. They had done all they could. Through decades of bravery and successful rescues, this was the only incident in which the men of the Indian River Life-Saving Station found no survivors. Aside from that fateful day, they were renowned for bringing men ashore alive.

The story above was one of many tales recounted at the IRLSS during their Lantern Tour. The tour covers everything from the Life-Saving Station to the beach, providing visitors with a comprehensive view of what life was like for shoremen in the service. You can also see a demonstration of the shoremen's methods here. Also, click to see more photos!

Many thanks to our tour guides Sarah Zimmerman and Alex Peterson for showing us the way, and relating the details of this story.
Written by Erik Yount. Photography by Errol Webber.