But he had not died in vain, and the story of his death was repeated
from mouth to mouth throughout the city; women heard it and sobbed
aloud, as they held their darlings closer; men heard it and spoke a
few brief words of praise and regret to which their wet eyes gave
emphasis.
About half-past eleven the previous night, the _America_ had been
struck amidships by an unknown schooner driving down unseen in the
intense darkness of the storm. Most of the passengers had gone to
their state-rooms, but Hugh was still in the cabin; rushing out on
deck he saw and heard that the boat would sink, and, accompanied by
the captain, ran back through the cabin, arousing the passengers and
telling them of the danger. In an instant all was confusion, agony,
and despair; some of the men leaped overboard, but the women with
their instinctive shrinking from the dark water, could not be
persuaded to leave the deck. A few passengers and part of the crew got
off in one of the small boats, but the other boats were swamped by the
rush into them; a cry went up that the steamer was sinking, and Hugh
was seen to jump overboard with a little child in his arms, a baby
whose mother had held it imploringly towards him, as he tried to
persuade her to take the dangerous leap. "Take the child," she said;
"I will follow you," and then as they disappeared, with a wild cry the
poor woman flung herself over after them. In the mean time the captain
and some of the hands and passengers had ascended to the hurricane
deck, and when the _America_ sank, the force of the waves separated
the deck from the hull, and it floated off, a frail support for the
little group it carried. The lake was strewn with fragments, spars and
barrels, and to these many persons were clinging. Hugh had managed to
secure a piece of broken mast with spars attached, and with its aid he
supported the mother and child until an iron-bound cask, caught in the
cordage, struck him heavily in the darkness. The mother heard him
groan, and his grasp loosened, "Quick!" he said hoarsely; "I cannot
hold you. I must fasten you with these floating ropes; I am badly
hurt, but I think I can hold the child."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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