He was allowed to sail with his interesting
passenger aboard, and I hope the latter was genuinely
grateful to his heroic protector for ever after. The name of
such a man should be covered with imperishable fame.
Here is another bit of quiet bravery, loftier than the
slaughter, in hot or cold blood, of one's fellow-creatures!
About twenty-eight or twenty-nine years ago, a German vessel
ran into and sank off Dungeness an emigrant ship called the
_North Fleet_. She was a fine vessel. Her commander had
married a young lady a few days before sailing from London,
and she accompanied him on the voyage. When the collision
occurred there was a rush made for the boats. Men clamoured
for a place to the exclusion of women and children! The
captain called out that he would shoot the first man who
prevented or did not assist the women to save themselves,
and I believe he had reason to put his threat into
practice. He stood on the poop with his revolver in hand
ready for action. When the proper time came, he asked his
bride to take his arm, and led her to the gangway. They
kissed each other affectionately.
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