Chapter II: 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."

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"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!"