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From: Bobbie Hall <>
Subject: [MABARNST] Cape Cod Pilot, Ch. 8, part 3
Date: Thu, 21 Mar 2002 12:23:20 -0600
References: <200112191104.fBJB48Q10270@lists2.rootsweb.com>


======================================================================
Cape Cod Pilot, by Jeremiah Diggs, American Guide Series, published by
Modern Pilgrim Press, Provincetown, MA, 1937. This was a work
underwritten by the Federal Writers Project, Works Project
Administration (WPA) for the State of Massachusetts.
======================================================================

Chapter VIII - EASTHAM [part 3]


In the Town Hall, in Middle Eastham, the story of an ancient and
formidable land trust - the great Eastham Herbage Company - is kept
"preserved" within the covers of three mottled volumes, records that
start with the doings of the "77 Eastham Proprietors" in 1744. And
these old books will never give up the secret of the land trust,
because the "records" of its most important proceedings have been left
blank.

Just as Thomas PRENCE, Deacon DOANE and their colleagues recognized
something for nothing at a great distance, so did the "77
Proprietors," whose purpose, it seems, was to lay claim to everything
in sight and then go to court if necessary to fight it out. Anything
that could be clawed away in this manner was to be sold for the best
possible price, and the proceeds divided seventy-seven ways.

The project, conceived in delusions of grandeur, began auspiciously
with what amounted to a declaration of a stock dividend. On July 19,
1744, it was voted "that each proprietor's name should be writ on a
pees of paper and put in a hat and the number of each lot or meadow on
another pees of paper and put in another hat." The simultaneous
drawing of name and number was to determine ownership of the lots.
David DOANE and Joseph SMITH were appointed tellers.

In this manner the land not under documented claim was divided.
Anything else that looked easy also was appropriated. The land trust
flourished. The 77 wizards had found the magic key which their
forefathers had sought so diligently! It might even be possible to
claim Harwich, or Barnstable, or even Plymouth, Boston, and rest of
New England. Seventy-seven men of Eastham tossed on their beds,
fevered out of all sleep by the bewitching lure of land.

Then the South Parish became a town, and it was discovered that almost
all of the worthwhile holdings of "the 77" were now in the town of
Orleans. Orleans formed her own "Proprietors," and they too joined
forces and went to court. The "Orleans Canal Proprietors" came armed
with plans for cutting a Cape Cod Canal through Jeremiah's Gutter, a
project which previously had been spiked by the Eastham claims to the
land at that place. The canal was never cut, but in a legal battle
participated in by every amateur corporation lawyer on the Lower Cape,
Orleans sued Eastham and won the verdict - $64.16.

The bubble was burst. The "77 Proprietors of Norsit" became the
"Eastham Herbage Company," with grass to sell at Sunken Meadow. Dreams
of annexing Boston went floating into spoondrift over the dunes.
Shares of the great land trust plummeted to 88 cents. Seventy-seven
men of Eastham slept unburdened for all time of the restless vision of
every man a king.

I have touched on the strange and wonderful accomplishments of mascots
in our Coast Guard stations, and the astounding findings of the
surfmen in the field of zoology. But I was reserving a few notes on
the business end of this service for Eastham, for here you have an
opportunity to see a modern station, accessible by motor.

An appealing picture is usually made of the Massachusetts Humane
Society and its work, beginning "as early as 1776" for the aid of
shipwrecked sailors. These chroniclers usually skip the fact that the
freezing gales of a hundred years had been taking their toll of
shipwrecked sailormen before that time. Nothing was done to provide
havens for them, and when, at last, sparing outlays were made for
shelter, these rude shacks were "but a stage to the grave." Thoreau is
authority for this, and his book (Chapter IV) gives the only con-
temporary glimpse at the other side of the picture.

"Far away in some desolate hollow by the seaside, just within the
bank, stands a lonely building on piles driven into the sand," he
writes, "with a slight nail put through the staple, which a freezing
man can bend, with some straw, perchance, on the floor on which he may
lie, or which he may burn in the fireplace to keep him alive. Perhaps
this hut has never been required to shelter a shipwrecked man, and the
benevolent person who promised to inspect it annually, to see that the
straw and matches are here, and that the boards will keep off the
wind, has grown remiss and thinks that storms and shipwrecks are over;
and this very night a perishing crew may pry open its door with their
numbed fingers and leave half their number dead here by morning."

There was plenty of heroism, of course, on the part of men who made up
the life-saving crews. A vivid account of the rescues and the
tragedies that took place along this coast in the last years of the
Nineteenth Century, the days of the four-masters, is given in a book
now out of print, "The Life Savers of Cape Cod," by John W. Dalton.
DALTON died many years ago, but mariners generally recognize the
authenticity of his book, which is full of first-hand accounts and
photographs he made while he was covering wrecks of Cape Cod for the
newspapers.

On the north shore of Nauset Inlet still stands a little gray shack,
the boat-house of the old Humane Society. The rescue of five men and
the captain's wife from the British schooner "Walter Miller" in 1897,
after she had run aground on Nauset Bars in heavy surf, wrote a heroic
finis to the career of this station, which was the last on the Cape.
The shack is still used as a boat-house, privately owned, and the
station itself is now a home in East Orleans.

In 1872 the U.S. Life Saving Service had finally been established, and
in 1915 this branch was combined with the Revenue Cutter Service, to
form the Coast Guard Department. Thus the work of the Coast Guard now
combines saving of life and property with prevention of smuggling and
other irregularities, and the entire force is also kept adaptable to
other uses in event of war.

The service in time of peace is under control of the Treasury
Department. One peaceful day in the summer Of 1935, Secretary of the
Treasury Henry Morgenthau was visiting the Cape. His party was
picnicking on Nauset Beach, when a sudden thunderstorm overtook them.
The Commander-in-Chief knew where to run. He led his friends into the
old Nauset Coast Guard Station, took possession of the galley, and had
the picnic indoors. Visitors were welcome at the stations, but
littering up the galley with banana peels and sardine cans was
strictly against the rules. Boatswain NICKERSON promptly told these
nervy strangers as much. The Secretary said he wasn't exactly a
visitor, and when he introduced himself to the bo'sun, the banana
peels were all right.

The bo'sun took Morgenthau's party through, on an inspection of the
plant, which had been in use more than sixty years and was then one of
the oldest units in the service. He showed Morgenthau where the tides
had eaten away the bank, too, so that only 30 feet remained in front
of the station, where there had been 16o feet when the building was
erected. He said it wasn't very stable. And Morgenthau, who had
dabbled a bit in stabilization, nodded thoughtfully.

A few weeks later from Washington came authorization of a new station
at Nauset.

The way to the station leads off the main road a short distance beyond
Town Hall. From the tower room you can see both shores of the Cape,
and below you will find the newest equipment in the business,
including the improved beachcart trailer with big tires; the modern
Hunt gun which shoots a line aboard a stranded vessel, and the
breeches buoy which follows; and you may inspect the surfboat, the
signaling apparatus, and the inside wind indicator. There is some
equipment in the gun closet in the keeper's room which is brought out
only on special occasions.

You can hear the boys tell you about beach patrol too, and what good
clean fun it is - when you don't have to dig sand out of your face.
And sometimes they may tell you of their adventures when they are
"home good" - which means on leave. To see them in beachcart or
breeches buoy drill, which follows regular schedules, is a nice summer
diversion; but to see them at work, in a February gale, offers thrills
of a wholly different sort. The Nauset station reported giving major
assistance in four cases for the year 1936; one life saved; 29 persons
on board vessels assisted; 42 instances of "miscellaneous assistance;"
and valuation of property saved $79,450.

A man on beach patrol from Peaked Hill, farther down-Cape, fights his
way through driving snow, sees a liner heading, through some
miscalculation, towards the deadly bars offshore. He fires his Coston
signal, the ship answers with a rocket and clears off. The man trudges
on, having saved perhaps hundreds of lives. And the incident goes down
in the book as one instance of "miscellaneous assistance."
[more to come]
transcribed by and all errors attributed to
Bobbie Hall










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