Mr. W---- was up and out bright and early that Sunday morning, anxious
to see the Sunday papers, daily and weekly, most of which he knew did
not go to press till late in the night, or rather early in the morning,
and he hoped from these to hear something about the storm on the
Sound--something to assure him of the safety of the one who was first
and foremost in his thoughts. All that he could find in these papers
was that just as they were closing up their columns to go to press a
fearful gale was blowing from the northeast, and that disasters on the
Sound and all along the Atlantic coast might be expected. But none had
been heard from yet. All the Sound line steamers left at their regular
hour, and must meet and face the gale en route.
And this was all he could learn without telegraphic news came of
sufficient importance to cause the issue of extras. Nervously he
watched for these, and at last, not far from noon--a little after
it--he heard a street Arab shouting:
“’Ere’s yer extra. ’Ere’s news o’ the big storm!”
He rushed out into the street, tore a paper out of the hand of the
yelling urchin, threw him a quarter, and then read the heading in
startling capitals:
TERRIBLE STORM!
WRECKS ALL ALONG OUR COAST!
The Heroism of a Miss Hattie Butler Saves Over Four Hundred Lives on a
Sound Steamer!
OUR OWN REPORTER WAS ON BOARD THE ENDANGERED AND NEARLY WRECKED STEAMER.
[Full Particulars by Telegraph.]
For a little while he was so blinded that he could not read another
word, a mist seemed to come between him and the paper. But in a little
time a reaction came. He grew calm, and then he read a long and
thrilling telegraphic report of the storm, how the vessel, swept by
adverse currents, ran far out of her course, and while battling with a
most terrible tempest in a sea which deluged her decks, was on the very
point of running on shore, when a young lady who had preferred to watch
the wild grandeur of the storm rather than to rest in the shelter of
her state-room, had, while clinging to the stays near the pilot-house,
discovered the danger neither pilots nor captain could see, rushed to
the pilot-house and given the alarm only barely in time to have the
course altered, the engines reversed, and the boat backed.
The name of the heroine who had saved the vessel and so many precious
lives was Miss Hattie Butler, a passenger going from New York to
Boston. Further particulars would be sent by mail, written out in full
by the reporter who had witnessed all that had occurred, and would
interview the lady if possible.
“She is safe! Oh, I thank the gracious Father she is safe!” was all
that Edward W---- said.
Her life, even though she might never be his, was more precious by far
to him than his own.
The news was too good to keep. He knew that there were others who would
rejoice to hear it. He hailed and engaged a passing cab, and with the
paper yet clasped in his hand, ordered the driver to go as fast as he
could to No. -- Fifth avenue. The more haste he made the better he
would be paid.
Any one who knows what a New York cabman is can fancy how those poor
old horses were lashed forward under that promise. Mr. Bergh, luckily
for the driver, did not see him, and thus in about half an hour Mr.
W---- stood on the steps of the Legare mansion, and the cabman drove
back at a slow walk with a ten-dollar bill in his pocket, about
one-fifth of which would reach his employer’s hands that night when he
rendered in his day’s work.
In a few seconds Mr. W---- was in the library, where the servant told
him he would find Mr. Legare, and by the time he got there Frank,
Lizzie, Mrs. Emory, and even Little Jessie were in the room, for they
had seen him alight from the cab, and feared he had brought bad news.
“Have you heard from Miss Butler? Is she safe?” cried Mrs. Emory.
“Don’t speak if she’s lost--don’t--don’t!” screamed Lizzie, for, seeing
how pale he looked, she feared the worst.
“If she’s dead I’ll die, too,” moaned Frank.
“She is not only safe, but her heroism has made her immortal. She has
saved over four hundred lives,” cried Mr. W----, waving the paper in
his hand. “I came as fast as I could to be the first to bring the glad
news.”
“Oh, you dear, dear fellow!” screamed Lizzie, and she threw both her
white plump arms about his neck, and kissed him again and again.
“I don’t care if all the world sees me,” she added, as Frank cried out:
“Oh, Lizzie!”
And Little Jessie kissed Mr. W----, too, and cried while she did it,
and no doubt Mrs. Emory would have willingly done the same if it would
have done him any good and been within the bounds of propriety.
Mr. Legare said in his happy way:
“Bless my soul, Mr. W----, you seem to have turned the folks all
topsy-turvy, but I don’t blame you. The news is gloriously good. I
always liked that girl. And, mark me, she’ll turn out to be something
more than a bindery girl yet.”
“You just bet she will,” cried Frank. “If I knew where to find her I’d
go to Boston to-night.”
“What for, Frank?” asked his sister, now completely herself again.
“To tell her you kissed Mr. W---- right before us all,” said Frank,
determined to get even with Lizzie now if he could.
“You might tell her, too, while you were about it, that I was only
sorry he didn’t kiss me back,” said Lizzie, so saucily that the laugh
was all on her side.
“But really, Mr. W----,” she added, “you must think I was very bold.
But, to tell the truth, I thought at first you had come to tell us she
was dead, and when I heard you say she was safe I was so glad that I
really didn’t know what I was doing.”
“Oh, that is a likely story, when you were cool enough to notice that
he didn’t kiss you back again,” cried Frank.
“An oversight for which I humbly beg pardon,” said Mr. W----.
Frank was even now, and Mr. W---- had helped him, for which the young
man felt decidedly grateful.
Lizzie acknowledged the victory, for she blushed, and made no reply.
Mr. W---- now read the entire report aloud, and said he had no doubt
the fullest particulars would be had in the morning papers.
“Dear me,” sighed Frank, when he heard this, “she will be made so much
of now in Boston where live heroines are scarce, that I’m afraid she’ll
never come back to see us.”
Mr. W---- whispered something to Lizzie, who laughed heartily, and then
said:
“Frank, if she only knew you were just dying to see her--you, the heir
to millions, and not so bad looking either--she’d never sleep till she
got here.”
“Oh, you traitor! you told her just what I said to you at our
club-rooms,” said Frank, shaking his finger at Mr. W----.
And so Lizzie had the laugh on her side now.
Mr. Legare insisted on Mr. W---- remaining to dinner, and then he would
take him home in his own carriage.
Lizzie, with an appealing look, joined in the invitation, and Mr. W----
remained.