“Oh, yes! Do tell me some news of dear old Jack. His very name seems to bring the purity, freshness and freedom of the sea into this hot-house life one leads in society. Where is he and how is he?” cried Lucy enthusiastically at mention of the name of her sailor cousin.
“You recall, do you not, the brief mention that he made in the first letter that we received after he sailed of a fearful storm encountered by his ship when not less than a month out from Boston, and that his ship (so he wrote) had been fortunate enough to rescue some people from a foundered and sinking vessel during the gale?” asked Mr. Dunlap regaining gradually his composure as his mind dwelt upon a subject pleasant to contemplate.
“Yes, surely, I remember, grandfather, because the storm, I recall, was at its height on my wedding day and I wondered at the time if in all that fearful danger Jack even thought of me.”
“Well, then! to begin with I must let you into a state secret. Your good Uncle John the day before Jack sailed insisted that he should carry old Brice, who had been long in our service, as one of his mates. John’s object was this: knowing Jack’s pride and obstinacy, he feared that he might need help and not apply to us for it, so he sent for Brice and bribed him to stick by our young kinsman and keep us informed concerning his welfare. We have had only glowing accounts of Jack’s success as a ship-owner from Brice. Yesterday there came a letter and a copy of a London paper from him that filled my heart with pride and pleasure, and I know will overjoy your uncle.
“Do hurry, grandfather. I can’t wait long to hear fine things about my good, faithful old Jack,” exclaimed Lucy impatiently, as she resumed her place on the arm of the old man’s chair.
“This is what the report in the London newspaper states, and is what neither Jack nor Brice wrote home. The ship that foundered was filled with emigrants from Ireland bound for Australia. The fourth day of the storm she was sighted by the ‘Adams.’ While the wind had subsided somewhat the waves were still rolling mountain high. When Jack called for volunteers to man the boats the crew hung in the wind, until Jack, noticing the women and children on the deck of the sinking ship, called to Brice to come with him, and pushing aside the reluctant crew made ready to spring into a boat which had been lowered. Then the shamed crew rushed over the side and insisted that the captain allow them to make the attempt to rescue the people from the wrecked vessel. With the last boat-load of the emigrants that came safely on board of the ‘Adams’ was a little girl who, weeping bitterly, cried that her sick mother had been left behind. The sailors and Mr. Morgan, the second mate of the ‘Adams,’ said that the child’s mother was nearly dead, lying in a bunk in the sick-bay, and that she had smallpox and no one dared lift and carry her to the boat.”
“What an awful position! What did Jack say?” cried Lucy, breaking the thread of her grandfather’s narrative.
“Jack did not say much, but he did that that makes me proud to call him my kinsman, a Dunlap and a Yankee sailor. He whispered to the child not to cry any more, that she should have her mother brought to her. Then he leaped into the boat and was shoving off to make the trip alone to the wreck when old Brice tumbled over the ship’s side and took his place at an oar. Jack brought the woman in his arms from the sick-bay and laid her in the boat, regaining his own ship, he made the smallpox patient comfortable in his own cabin, nursed her himself and saved her life,” said Mr. Dunlap exultantly, relating the report of the rescue as published in the English journal.
“Hurrah! for our noble Jack!” cried Lucy, springing up and waving about her head a napkin that lay upon the table.