for the life of them they couldn't keep her off. The sheets were frozen hard and cut the men's hands that hauled them, and the wind blew fit to sweep everything off the decks. They were getting heavier weather than the lighthouse, and the skipper feared every second that a mast would be carried away. As it was, half the taffrail went and all that was adrift on deck. The crew worked like madmen, with their 'oilers' frozen stiff and their faces stung raw.
"The lightkeeper, peering out into the storm, saw the tossing masthead lights veer closer inshore; then flames sprang out aboard the vessel from a tar-barrel they'd lit up as a signal of distress. Almost at once, from the Life-Saving Station two miles down the coast, a red light flared up. This meant: 'We see you; we're coming!' and a minute later a blue fire shone out on the beach. That said: 'Don't try to land in your own boats.'
"But the captain of the schooner told the keeper afterward that something had to be done, and done quick. Every sea pounded the Thomas J. further on to the Reef; at any moment her back might break and the crew would be left in a hideous position. So they waited for a 'smooth' when three big waves met and
