After getting clear of the land they hoisted sail, and were soon flying rapidly over the water, before the driving wind. As the wind was against them, they were obliged to make short and frequent tacks, and thus their approach to the opposite shore was accomplished by slow and labored degrees. The ladies were huddled together in the stern, clasping their frightened children nervously in their arms, while Webster, active and alert, rendered such assistance in managing the boat as was in his power.
"The storm's coming!" shouted the boatman, after a long silence, "and the women had better cover up."
The storm came, sure enough. A blinding rain, icy cold, which beat pitilessly down upon the unprotected voyagers, while the little vessel rocked to and fro at the mercy of the dashing waves. The wind suddenly changed, the frail yacht gave a sudden lurch, and in a twinkling the keel of the boat was heard scraping upon the bottom of the river, and they were aground. They had been blown out of their course, and had drifted into the shallow water, a mile below their landing place, and within a hundred feet of the shore.
Without a moment's hesitation, Webster bade the boatman lower his sail, and then, jumping into the water, which was waist deep, and as cold as ice, he took two of the children in his strong arms, and carried them safely to the river-bank. Returning again, he assisted in carrying the ladies and the remaining child ashore, although he was so chilled that his lips were blue and his knees knocked together with the cold. The nearest place of shelter was a mile away, but unmindful of the cold and the pelting storm, Webster cheered his companions by his hearty words, and bidding the boatman take care of one of the children, he picked up another, and the weary party set out to walk through the icy rain to the little hut, whose welcome light was gleaming in the distance.
"Webster took two of the children in his strong arms, and carried them safely to the bank." P. 474
Thanks to a flask of good brandy, which Webster fortunately had with him, the ladies were strengthened and sustained sufficiently to make the journey; and when they arrived at last at the comfortable cabin, their words of gratitude to Webster were heartily and unstintingly uttered.
After warming themselves before the fire, and drying their drenched and dripping garments as far as practicable, the ladies retired to another room, leaving Webster, who, overcome with fatigue, was obliged to sleep in his wet clothing in the room to which they were first admitted. Unmindful of himself, however, his only solicitude was for the ladies who had been placed in his charge, and after they had been comfortably disposed of, he prepared to take his own much-needed rest.
He spread a blanket before the roaring blaze, and was about to stretch his weary limbs upon it, when he noticed, lying upon the floor, a short distance from him, a small packet, wrapped in oiled-cloth, and tied with red tape. It had evidently been dropped by one of the ladies, and its loss had escaped her notice. Picking it up, he examined it carefully by the light of the fire, and to his surprise he found that it was directed to Mr. Benjamin, the Rebel Secretary of War. As "all things are fair in love and war," Timothy lost no time in secreting the precious document about his own person. He had no objection at all to assisting two ladies to reach their husbands, even if they were enemies; but he objected decidedly to lend his aid to the forwarding of dangerous information to those who were fighting against the cause he held so dear. His conscience, therefore, gave him but little uneasiness as he pocketed the mysterious little packet, and with the resolve to discover its contents on the morrow, he stretched himself before the burning logs, and was soon sound asleep.