THE SHIP ON FIRE.
IT was a busy day to the children at Ivy Lodge; not one felt the
time pass wearily. Even quicksilver Amy had been quiet for awhile,
as she sat with knitted brows biting the end of her pencil.
Old Mrs. Presgrave had not been startled once by the sound of a sudden
shout or a heavy fall, and volumes were drawn from their corners in the
bookcase by hands that seldom had opened books but from necessity.
Mrs. Gore had found it difficult to proceed in her needle-work, so
numerous were the interruptions from the literary juveniles. Thrice
had she to rise to search for books, and ten times to stop to mend a
pen, innumerable were the applications for aid in spelling; and when at
last the young party assembled after dinner, Willy's story was written
on cream-tinted paper, in the hand of his indulgent mother.
Jessy needed a copy-book—Julia ruled lines—every inkstand in the house
was in requisition, and Louis and Tom, disputing over theirs, managed to
upset it between them. At length, however, the last page was written,
poor Jessy bringing up the rear; and, some neat, some blotted, some
long, some short, the stories were placed in the hand of Mr. Presgrave.
Little Julia had drawn a footstool for his feet, had patted up his
cushion with her plump little hands, and picked up the spectacle-case
thrown down by Tom. Then slowly the "silver eyes" were adjusted in
their proper place—quiet succeeded to the hum of voices, a smile of
expectation was in every face, and as Julia seated herself at the old
man's feet, in a clear, distinct voice he began:
Jessy's Tale.
THE SHIP ON FIRE.
"JAMES MAXWELL, a native of Stirlingshire, was pilot of a fine
steam-vessel called the 'Clydesdale,' sailing between the Clyde and
the west coast of Ireland. And one evening, after setting out on the
voyage across the Channel, with between seventy and eighty passengers,
Maxwell became sensible, at intervals, of the smell of fire, and wont
about anxiously endeavouring to discover whence it originated. On
communicating with the master, he found that he too had perceived it;
but neither of them could form the least conjecture as to where it
arose. A gentleman passenger also observed this alarming vapour, which
alternately rose and passed away, leaving them in doubt of its being
a reality. About eleven o'clock at night this gentleman went to bed,
confident of safety; but while Maxwell was at the helm, the master
ceased not an instant to search from place to place, as the air became
more and more impregnated with the odour of burning timber."
"At last he sprung up on deck, exclaiming, 'Maxwell, the flames have
burst out at the paddle-box!'"
"James calmly inquired, 'Then shall I put about?'"
"Turner's order was to proceed. Maxwell struck one hand upon his heart,
as he flung the other above his head, and with uplifted eyes uttered,
'O God Almighty! enable me to do my duty! and O God! Provide for my
wife, my mother, and my child!'"
"Whether it was the thoughts of the dreadful nature of the Galloway
coast, girded as it is with perpendicular masses of rock, which
influenced the master in his decision to press forwards, we cannot
tell. But as there was only the wide ocean before and around them, the
pilot did not long persist in this hopeless course. He put the boat
about, sternly subduing every expression of emotion, and standing with
his eyes fixed on the point for which he wished to steer. The fire,
which the exertions of all the men could not keep under, soon raged
with ungovernable fury, and keeping the engine in violent action, the
vessel, at the time one of the fleetest that had ever been built,
flew through the water with incredible speed. All the passengers were
gathered to the bow, the rapid flight of the vessel keeping that part
clear of the flames, while it carried the fire, flames, and smoke
backwards to the quarter-gallery, where the self-devoted pilot stood
like a martyr at the stake. Everything possible was done by the master
and crew to keep the place on which he stood deluged with water; but
this became every moment more difficult and more hopeless; for, in
spite of all that could be done, the devouring fire seized the cabin
under him, and the spot on which he stood immovable became intensely
heated. Still, still the hero never flinched!"
"At intervals, the motion of the wind threw aside the intervening mass
of flame and smoke for a moment, and then might be heard exclamations
of hope and gratitude as the multitude on the prow got a glimpse of the
brave man standing calm and fixed on his dreadful watch!"
"The blazing vessel, glaring through the darkness of night, had been
observed by the people on shore, and they had assembled on the heights
adjoining an opening in the rocks about twelve yards wide; and there,
by waving torches and other signals, did their best to direct the crew
to the spot. The signals were not misunderstood by Maxwell, whose feet
were already roasted on the deck! The fierce fire still kept the engine
in furious action, impelling the vessel onwards; but this could not
have lasted above another minute; and during the interval, he ran her
into the open space, and alongside a ledge of rock, upon which every
creature got safe on shore—all unscathed, except the self-devoted one,
to whom all owed their lives! Had he flinched for a minute they must
all have perished."
"What would not any or all of them have given, when driving over the
wide sea in their flaming prison, to the man who would have promised
them safety? But when this heroic man had accomplished the desperate
undertaking, did the gratitude of this multitude continue beyond the
minute of deliverance? We believe it did not! One man exclaimed, 'There
is my trunk—I am ruined without it: five pounds to whoever will save
it!' Maxwell could not hesitate in relieving any species of distress.
He snatched the burning handle of the trunk, and swung it on shore, but
left the skin of his hand and fingers sticking upon it—a memorial which
might have roused the gratitude of the most torpid savage! But he who
offered the reward forgot to pay it to one who could not and would not
ask of any one on earth."
"As might have been expected, Maxwell's constitution, though very
powerful, never recovered the effects of that dreadful burning. Indeed,
it required all the skill and enthusiasm of an eminent physician under
whose care he placed himself to save his life. Though the flames had
not actually closed round him as he stood on his awful watch, yet such
was the heat under him and around him, that not only, as we have said,
were his feet severely burnt, but his hair, a large hair-cap, and huge
dreadnought watch-coat, which he wore, were all in such a state from
the intense heat, that they crumbled into powder on the least touch.
His handsome athletic form was reduced to the extremest emaciation; his
young face became ten years older during that appalling night, and his
hair changed to gray."
"A subscription for the unfortunate pilot was set on foot among the
gentlemen of Glasgow some time after the burning. On this occasion the
sum of a hundred pounds was raised, of which sixty pounds were divided
between the master and pilot, and the remainder given to the sailors."
"Notwithstanding his disabilities, James was fortunately able, after an
interval, to pursue his occupation as a pilot; but owing to a weakness
in his feet, caused by the injuries they had received, he fell, and
endured a severe fracture of the ribs. The value, however, in which
he was held by his employers, on account of his steady and upright
character, caused them, on this occasion, to continue his ordinary pay
during the period of his recovery."
"After this event, James entered the service of another company
(Messrs. Thomson and McConnell), conducting a steam-shipping
communication between Glasgow and Liverpool, by whom, notwithstanding
the enfeebled state of his body and broken health, he was (as how could
such a man be otherwise!) esteemed as a valuable servant."
"In the year 1833 the case of this hero in humble life was noticed in
'Chambers's Edinburgh Journal,' and roused a very general sympathy
in his favour. The subscriptions in his behalf were at this time
of material service in enabling him to support his family; but
misfortunes, arising out of his enfeebled condition, afterwards pressed
upon him, and another subscription was made for his relief in 1840.
James did not live to reap the full benefit of this fresh act of public
benevolence and respect; and shortly after his decease his wife also
died. Enough of money was realised to aid in rearing and educating the
younger children of this excellent individual, who deserved so well of
his country."
——————————
"A very interesting story! Well done, Jessy!" cried the children.
"Oh! I deserve no credit at all," said she, colouring. "I confess that
I copied every line almost out of 'Chambers's Journal.'"
"You have the credit of having chosen well," observed Willy.
"Might I suggest," said Mr. Presgrave, "that in reading our stories we
should abstain from either praise or blame? The one might discourage,
the other foster vanity, to which we are all but too prone."
"There is one thing in the story which I can hardly think true,"
exclaimed Amy; "and that is, that those whom the pilot had saved could
ever be ungrateful to him!"
"Oh no!" cried Julia, clasping her hands, "after all that he had done,
after all that he had suffered, when they sprang one by one on the safe
firm shore, and felt the cool wind, and saw the vessel flaming upon
the water, and knew themselves saved—saved! Oh! I should have thought
that they would have poured out their whole hearts in thankfulness, and
never have stopped showing their gratitude to their deliverer!"
"God grant that none of us may be equally ungrateful!" said Mr.
Presgrave in a solemn tone of voice.
"O sir! O uncle!" exclaimed all the children at once.
"May not the burning vessel be considered as a type, an image of a
world lost by sin, speeding on to death and destruction? The first
spark that kindled the flames may have appeared small, but the evil
spread, until the whole ship seemed destined to become a prey to the
devouring element. What mattered it that the sky was clear above, what
mattered it that no rocks opposed her course, how fearful was the fate
of that doomed vessel, that carried the destroyer within herself with
her!"
"I do not quite understand," said Julia timidly.
"Are there any here who have understood and can explain my meaning?"
said the old man, glancing round him.
"I think so, sir," said Percy, after a pause. "The first spark was like
the sin of Eve in the garden, which spread to all those who followed
after her. The whole world, and all that were in it, were doomed to
destruction, none could escape, for all had sinned, and 'the soul that
sinneth it shall die;' but when nothing but ruin and death seemed
before us—"
"Then," said Mr. Presgrave, "Mercy found a way for our escape!
Sufferings beyond what mere man ever endured were borne for us, and for
our salvation; and now the bright shore of heaven is before us, safety
and bliss freely offered to all, to all who do not wilfully choose
death rather than life, and remain in the burning vessel!"
"Are there any who would do that?" asked Jessy in surprise.
"I ask my young companions for a reply," said Mr. Presgrave. "Who are
those who madly choose to remain behind and perish, when deliverance
and safety are offered to them?"
"The covetous, the unforgiving, thieves, liars, Sabbath-breakers," were
echoed on every side.
"And what should we have said to a man in that vessel who should have
lingered when all else were leaving the ship, and while flames gained
upon him every moment, resisted all entreaties with the careless reply,
'There is time enough yet to escape?'"
"I should have feared that he might grow giddy and unable to escape,"
replied Willy.
"Oh! my dear children, while yet there is time, seek the means of
escape so mercifully provided for us! Remember that the straightest
course to our haven is the only secure one; and oh! Never forget our
deep debt of thankfulness to Him who gave life itself to redeem us from
destruction!"
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