“Battling with the storm.” That was the very word. For while those
loving friends sent up a prayer to Heaven for her safety, Hattie
Butler, unable to remain in her state-room, not afraid, for she was
truly brave, but anxious, had thrown a water-proof mantle, which her
satchel contained, over her head and shoulders, and gone out on the
deck near the pilot house, where, holding on to one of the great iron
stays, she looked out on the wildly heaving waters, listened to the
howl of the mad gale, and waited, with faith and hope, for the end,
whatever it might be.
By the light in the pilot-house, which shone on the pale faces of the
two pilots who stood at the wheel, she also saw the calm but stern
face of Captain Smith, the commander of the boat, a veteran in the
navigation of the Sound, and she felt that he knew his peril, and would
do all that man could do to save the lives of those intrusted to his
care.
But it is not man who brings, or rules, or allays the storm. The winds
are in the hands of the Almighty, and He is able to save when all else
are powerless.
She saw the mate pass her and go to the pilot-house door. The captain
asked:
“Is all right below, Mr. Glynn?”
“Yes, sir, so far. But it is a fearful night. I never knew the steamer
to heave and strain so hard,” replied the mate, a tall, fine-looking
young man, with a bare accent, not a brogue, to tell that he was a son
of Erin’s Isle.
“Have you had the pump well sounded?”
“Yes, sir, I have given orders to sound them every fifteen minutes, and
to report instantly if there is any gain in the water below.”
“Good! You are the right man in the right place, Mr. Glynn. Tell
Bishop, the engineer, to keep a full head of steam on; we need every
pound we can carry to make head against this gale. The train at Fall
River will have to wait for our passengers or leave without them, if
this no’-easter holds stiff ’til daylight.”
“I only hope we’ll live it through,” was what Hattie Butler heard the
mate say to himself, as he crept away toward the ladder to leeward, by
which he descended toward the engine-room.
And then she saw the captain go and look at the compass, and say to the
pilots:
“Keep her up two points more to windward. We ought to be near enough to
Gardener’s Island to see the light.”
“In this sleet, with the spray dashing as high as the smoke-stacks,
we’ll never see anything till we are right on the top of it!” growled
out one of the pilots.
Was it not a Providence that made Hattie Butler peer out at that moment
from the shelter which the pilot-house afforded her from the wind and
rain--peer out into the gloom and darkness ahead? It must have been.
For close, very close, she saw what she knew must be an artificial
light, for through the inky clouds no star or moon could have been
seen.
Quick as thought she sprang to the pilot-house door, flung it open, and
screamed out:
“Captain, there is a light very close to us on our left hand. I can see
it out here plain.”
“On the port bow? Impossible!” cried the captain, but he sprang out to
see.
The next second he sprang to the pilot-house.
“Hard up the helm!” he shouted. “Ring the stopping-bell, and then back
the engine.”
All this did not take a second to say, and as quick as it could be done
every order was obeyed.
And as the great steamer came around in water almost smooth, the
captain came up and drew Hattie Butler into the pilot-house.
“Young lady,” said he, “you have saved this steamer and the lives
of all on board. This night my wife would have been a widow and my
children orphans but for you. Five minutes more and we would have been
head onto the rocks among the breakers! What is your name?”
“Hattie Butler!” gasped our heroine. “Are we safe now?”
“Yes, I know just where we are, and can head my course and make Fall
River in the morning, but perhaps too late for the train. If I was
worth a million dollars I would give every cent to you, for death and
ruin stood face to face to us.”
“Captain, I have only done my duty as an instrument in the hands of
God. It was He who sent me from the state-room, where I could not
sleep, up here, where I could see the light-house when I did.”
“Heaven be thanked with you,” said the old captain, reverently, and he
bowed his head.
“If all is safe now I will go to my room,” said Hattie.
“It is. At breakfast I want you at my right hand at table. We will be
in smooth water then, please Heaven. I will steady you with my arm as
you go below, for the steamer pitches heavily with her head off, as it
is, from the wind.”
And gratefully the captain took Hattie down to her room, and then went
back to his post.