THE PILOT.
BY JOHN B. GOUGH.
John Maynard was well known in the lake district as a God-fearing, honest, and intelligent man. He was pilot on a steamboat from Detroit to Buffalo. One summer afternoon—at that time those steamers seldom carried boats—smoke was seen ascending from below; and the captain called out, "Simpson, go below and see what the matter is down there."
Simpson came up with his face as pale as ashes, and said, "Captain, the ship is on fire!"
Then "Fire! fire! fire!" on shipboard.
All hands were called up; buckets of water were dashed on the fire, but in vain. There were large quantities of rosin and tar on board, and it was found useless to attempt to save the ship. The passengers rushed forward and inquired of the pilot, "How far are we from Buffalo?"
"Seven miles."
"How long before we can reach there?"
"Three-quarters of an hour at our present rate of steam."
"Is there any danger?"
"Danger! Here, see the smoke bursting out!—go forward, if you would save your lives!"
Passengers and crew—men, women and children—crowded the forward part of the ship. John Maynard stood at the helm. The flames burst forth in a sheet of fire; clouds of smoke arose.
The captain cried out through his trumpet, "John Maynard!"
"Ay, ay, sir!"
"Are you at the helm?"
"Ay, ay, sir!"
"How does she head?"
"Southeast by east, sir."
"Head her southeast and run her on shore," said the captain. Nearer, nearer, yet nearer she approached the shore. Again the captain cried out, "John Maynard!"
The response came feebly this time, "Ay, ay, sir!"
"Can you hold on five minutes longer, John?" he said.
"By God's help, I will!"
The old man's hair was scorched from the scalp; one hand was disabled; his knee upon the stanchion, his teeth set, his other hand upon the wheel, he stood firm as a rock. He beached the ship; every man, woman, and child was saved, as John Maynard dropped, and his spirit took its flight to God.