On this particular morning, Mr. Whiteway's daughter went outside to hang the dish towel on the line. Out of habit, she looked out over the ocean. What she saw made her go rigid with shock. A raft with people on it, bouncing over the tumultuous sea.

The girl broke out of her trance and hurried back inside to report what she saw. Upon hearing her story, the men grabbed some rope and hurried to the seashore.

The raft was still some distance off shore, but was slowly drifting in toward the island. It seemed to be heading for White Point. The party on shore followed their progress. Closer and closer it came toward the point. Then, to the horror of the onlookers on shore, the raft split in two. There were four men on the larger section and two men on the other. The larger section was closer and a rope was thrown from shore. Willing hands grabbed it and the raft was hauled towards the land. Upon reaching shore, the men scrambled over the rocks to safety.

The backlash from the waves hitting the shore forced the smaller raft further out. A rope was unable to reach them. The assistant lighthouse keeper offered to launch a boat to go to their aid, but Mr. Whiteway forbade it. The waves were mountainous. To try and launch a rescue boat would endanger the assistant's life.

Grief stricken, the party on shore watched the raft, riding on the crest of the waves, until it faded from sight.

After the storm abated, a search vessel was sent out to look for the missing men. No trace was found, except for parts of the raft. So ended another drama between man and nature, which claimed the lives of two men who would have been saved except for a twist of fate, which sent them to a watery grave.



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