She was not much of a scholar, she could not spell as well as a girl
in the third standard, she lived a quiet life quite out of the busy
world; and yet Grace Darling's name is now a household word.
Let us see how that has come about.
William Darling, Grace's father, was keeper of the Longstone
Lighthouse on the Farne Islands, off the coast of Northumberland.
Longstone is a desolate rock, swept by the northern gales; and woe
betide the ship driven on its pitiless shores!
Mr. Darling and his family had saved the lives of many persons who had
been shipwrecked ere that memorable day of which I will tell you.
On the night of the 5th September, 1838, the steamer _Forfarshire_,
bound from Hull to Dundee, was caught in a terrific storm off the
Farne Islands. Her machinery became damaged and all but useless, and
the vessel drifted till the sound of the breakers told sixty-three
persons composing the passengers and crew that death was near at hand.
[Illustration: Longstone Lighthouse.]
The captain made every effort to run the ship in between the Islands
and the mainland, but in vain; and about three o'clock on the morning
of the 6th September the vessel struck on the rock with a sickening
crash.
A boat was lowered, into which nine of the passengers got safely,
whilst others lost their lives in attempting to do so. These nine were
saved during the day by a passing vessel.
The _Forfarshire_ meantime was the sport of the waves, which
threatened every minute to smash her in pieces.
Before long, indeed, one wave mightier than the rest lifted her bodily
on to the sharp rocks and broke her in two. Her after-part was swept
away, and the captain, his wife, and those who were in that portion of
the vessel, were drowned. The fore-part meantime remained fast on the
rocks, lashed by the furious billows.
That morning Grace was awakened by the sound of voices in distress,
and dressing quickly she sought her father.
They listened, and soon their worst fears were confirmed. Near at
hand, but still quite beyond reach of help, could be heard the
despairing shrieks of the shipwrecked crew.
To attempt to rescue them seemed quite out of the question. That was
apparent at once to William Darling, skilful boatman though he was,
and brave as a lion.
The sea was so terrific that it was ten chances to one against a boat
being able to keep afloat.
But Grace entreated: "Father, we must not let them perish. I will go
with you in the boat, and God will give us success."
In vain Mrs. Darling urged that the attempt was too perilous to be
justified, and reproached Grace for endeavouring to persuade her
father to run such unwarrantable risks.
William Darling saw plainly how many were the chances against success.
Even if the boat was not at once swamped, two persons alone, and one
of them only a girl, were insufficient for the work; for, supposing
they reached the wreck, they would probably be too exhausted to get
back.
No, duty did not demand such an act; and for a time he declined to put
out.
But Grace was quite firm. This girl of three and twenty, never very
robust, had marvellous strength of will; and, her mind being set on
attempting the rescue, she prevailed over both her father's judgment
and her mother's entreaties; and into that awful sea the boat was at
length launched. Though every billow threatened to engulf the frail
craft, yet it nevertheless rode through the mountainous waves and drew
near the rock where the helpless men and women were standing face to
face with death. When it was sufficiently close to the shore William
Darling sprang out to help the weary perishing creatures, whilst Grace
was left to manage the boat unaided.
It was now that her courage was put to the severest test. At this
critical moment the lives of her father and all the survivors depended
upon her judgment and skill.
Well did her past experience and cool nerve then serve her. Alone and
unaided she kept the boat in a favourable position in the teeth of
that pitiless gale; and as soon as her father signalled to her she
waited for an opportune moment and rowed in. Ere long, in spite of
the fury of wind and wave, they had got all aboard, and rowed back in
safety to the lighthouse.
The passengers who were rescued told the story of Grace's courage; and
soon the tale was in every newspaper.
George Darling, Grace's brother, speaking of this deed fifty years
after, says: "She always considered, as indeed we all did, that far
too much was made of what she did. She only did what was her duty in
the circumstances, brought up among boats, so to speak, and used to
the sea as she was. Still she was always a brave, fearless sort of
lass, and very religious too--there's no doubting that. But it was
never her wish that people should make so much of what she did."
A great deal was made of the deed certainly, but surely not too much.
A subscription was set on foot, and £700 presented to her, besides
innumerable presents.
Four years later Grace died, much lamented by all who knew her.
Doubtless many a time, before and since, faith as strong, and bravery
as heroic, have been shown, and have passed unrecorded and unnoticed
by men. But duty performed in simple faith and without expectation
of reward brings inward peace and joy greater than any outward
recognition can give.
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