“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[172] 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.
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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.
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“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.
