The night patrols of the U.S. Lifesaving Service and Coast Guard were among the most dangerous jobs that a Cape Codder could have, but it also wasnt without its share of what longtime surfman Yngve Rongner referred to as surprising tales.

Fear not, I will not speak of some, he recalled for the Eastham Historical Society many years ago, but Rongner and his colleagues had their share of wild stories from the dark side of the shore.

The surf patrols often went three or four miles in one direction in darkness, so coming upon another living creature on the beach could be startling. One night, on Rongners return trip to the station, it was quite a surprise when two large paws landed on my shoulders!

Who was scared the worst I do not know, but I gave out of those scare yells while reaching for a my cap that seemed to go sky-high, he said. To my amazement, it was only a friendly great dane belonging to one of our neighbors.

On another occasion, Rongner fell into a dead whale carcass that had washed ashore. Boy, what an aroma! You could smell me for miles! I couldnt go indoors until I stripped down and took a bath.

Rongners friend, Henry Beston, author of the book, The Outermost House, told of a service story about a surfman walking the beach in a windstorm, when he heard behind him a strange and uncanny moan. The surfman turned, and saw coming toward him a great, dark, bounding thing which moaned as it ran. The surfman sprinted away, but the thing followed, gaining every instant and sounding its ghostly cry. The surfmen fell, and yelled out, If ye want me, come and get me! It turned out to be an enormous empty cask, which kept rolling down the beach. The strange and uncanny moan came from the barrels opening.

The weather could also be a source of adventure. One night while on patrol for the Cahoon Hollow station in Wellfleet during a heavy snowstorm, Rongner wasnt able to get on the beach due to high seas hitting the base of the cliff. This led him to take the overland route on his south patrol, but even with the wind at his back, it took two and a half hours, the usual time for a routine patrol, just to get to the halfway house and that was with the wind at his back.

The return trip was the heartbreaker, as I had to face the storm, wind, and sand, Rongner said. I covered more than nine miles that night, as I could not walk too close to the edge of the hills where sand blowing over the edge would cut me to pieces. I kept inland as much as possible, going to the edge every so often to observe what I could in the driving snow and sand. I spent about eight hours making that patrol.

The night patrol wasnt easy on some of the surfmen, such as Nausets Effin Chalke, who served for three years alongside Rongner during the 1920s. Chalkes widow, Helen, recalled in 2009 that it was probably the perils of those nocturnal jaunts that prompted him to seek employment elsewhere.

Others, though, made a career of facing the mysteries of the dark shoreline.

Yet the men make nothing of it and scarcely ever talk about it, Beston wrote. They simply take their black oilskins and rubber boots from a locker, get into them by lantern light, and go.

Don Wilding, a writer, tour guide, and public speaker on Cape Cod lore, can be reached via email at donwilding@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter at @WildingsCapeCod and on Facebook at @donwildingscapecod. Shore Lore appears weekly.

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Shore Lore: Tales of the night patrol - News - Wicked Local Brewster