“What was she, Jim?” “The ‘Frederick.’ I’d know her bloomin’ bellow in a thousand.” They lean out over the rail and peer into the gray blackness, shaking their fists at the place where she vanished in the fog. The man who gets his name in the newspaper and a medal from his government is not the only hero. And the modesty with which the Gloucester fisherman hides his sterling merit is only convincing proof of the fact,--Gloucester is a city of heroes. For grit and devotion the case of Howard Blackburn surpasses understanding. THE COURAGE OF THE UNNAMED HEROES Blackburn and his dory-mate left their schooner in a driving snow-storm. Before they had been at the trawls long the weather had become so thick that they couldn’t see ten feet from the dory’s gunwale. The wind shifted and put them to leeward of their vessel. There was never a sound of bell or horn through the thickness, and, though they pulled to windward, where they thought their skipper lay, the vessel could not be found. They were lost, and the sea was rising. Then they anchored until dawn. When the snow stopped falling, they saw the schooner’s light, a tiny speck, miles to windward. To reach it was impossible. The situation was desperate. Wave-crest after wave-crest swept into the dory, and all but swamped her. Time after time she was baled out, until it seemed as if human endurance could stand it no longer. Blackburn made a sea-anchor for a drag, but in throwing it out lost his mittens overboard. It was horrible enough to fear drowning in the icy sea, but as he felt his hands beginning to freeze the effort seemed hopeless. With hands frozen, Blackburn felt that he was useless, for his dory-mate was already almost helpless with exposure. So he sat down to his oars and bent his freezing fingers over the handles, getting as firm a clutch as he could. There he sat patiently, calmly, keeping the dory up to the seas meanwhile,--waiting for his hands to freeze to the oars. The dory became covered with ice, and pieces of it knocked against the frozen hands and beat off a little finger and a part of one of the palms. During the second day Blackburn’s dory-mate gave it up, and Blackburn laid down beside him to try and warm him. But it was useless. The dory-man froze to death where he lay. FOR FIVE DAYS ADRIFT AND STARVING When Blackburn felt the drowsiness coming over him, he stood up and baled as the boat filled. The third day dawned without a ray of hope, and not a morsel to eat or a drop to drink, so he stuck the oar through his wounded fingers and rowed again. The fourth day he saw land. He did not reach it until the afternoon of the fifth day, when he landed at a deserted fish-wharf. No one could be found, and he was too weak to move farther. So he lay down, more dead than alive, and tried in vain to sleep, munching snow to quench his thirst.