Continuing Lt. William Henn's account of his storm-tossed voyage up the Florida coast in 1891. He and his fellow travelers are off Jupiter Inlet, but caught in a storm that prevents them from making land:

The Minnehaha was pounding and smashing into the short lop on the long, heavy swell, sending the spray flying all over us; but we were making headway, and gradually "clawing off" the shore. The little craft, however, was straining and leaking badly, and the pumps had to be kept going without intermission. At last a dim light appeared on the eastern horizon, and the white crests of the waves to windward seemed more distinct; then, as the stars began to pale, a gray light came stealing over the water, and soon it was bright enough for us to distinguish the white beach with its darker background; and to our relief a dark blurred mass appeared about two points away on our lee bow. This quickly took a definite shape, and proved to be the building of the United States life-saving station at Jupiter. But to leeward [toward shore] as far as the eye could distinguish to the north and south, ran several lines of furious breakers, the spray from which rose in sheets of vapor enveloping the sand-hills in clouds of mist. It was anything but a pleasant sight, and then I think we all realized the peril we were in, and the small chance we had of gaining the shore, if, as a last resource, we should try to beach the boat.

We were now within a mile of the station , and about half a mile from the beach. There was no time to lose, so I ordered Skipper to hoist the ensign "union down," and to half mast our private signal, which was flying at topmast-head. The moment had arrived to "lay the boat to," Would she do it? Skipper said "No"; but try we must. We watched for a "smooth" and eased down the helm. She came up nearly head to the wind; then, gathering sternway, fell of the trough of the sea. The next moment a crest struck her amidships, and sent the water flying half-way up the mainsail. Then she came up to the wind, only to fall off again. It was no use; she would not fall off again.
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We now turned our attention to what they were doing at the station, and saw the United States ensign flying in answer to our signals, and the life-boat on the beach with the crew about her. They made a gallant effort to launch her, but the breakers proved too heavy, and to our great disappointment they desisted from making any further attempts. We afterwords learned that the boat had been swamped. The crew remained on the beach,standing by the boat, watching for a chance to come to us.
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We had no life-buoys, or anything on board that would float, except for the oars of the skiff and the setting-poles, which wouldn't have been of much account; and to add to my anxiety, two of our ship's company, my wife and the steward, were unable to swim. The danger in beaching the sloop was very great, as there was an outer line of breakers, with deep water between them and the shore. If we were swamped in crossing it, we should sink before we could reach the beach, and there was the additional risk of encountering sharks, several of which were actually visible. We emptied the water-casks and improvised a couple of life-buoys by slinging and attaching to them . . . life lines. Then we could do no more but await developments.

Next: the rescue.