Well did her past experience and cool nerve then serve her. Alone and unaided she kept the boat in a favourable position in the teeth of that pitiless gale; and as soon as her father signalled to her she waited for an opportune moment and rowed in. Ere long, in spite of the fury of wind and wave, they had got all aboard, and rowed back in safety to the lighthouse.
The passengers who were rescued told the story of Grace's courage; and soon the tale was in every newspaper.
George Darling, Grace's brother, speaking of this deed fifty years after, says: "She always considered, as indeed we all did, that far too much was made of what she did. She only did what was her duty in the circumstances, brought up among boats, so to speak, and used to the sea as she was. Still she was always a brave, fearless sort of lass, and very religious too—there's no doubting that. But it was never her wish that people should make so much of what she did."
A great deal was made of the deed certainly, but surely not too much. A subscription was set on foot, and £700 presented to her, besides innumerable presents.
Four years later Grace died, much lamented by all who knew her.
Doubtless many a time, before and since, faith as strong, and bravery as heroic, have been shown, and have passed unrecorded and unnoticed by men. But duty performed in simple faith and without expectation of reward brings inward peace and joy greater than any outward recognition can give.
* * * * *
GRACE DARLING THE SECOND.
Whilst these pages were passing through the press the news came of the bravery of another Grace Darling in a far-off land.[1]
[Footnote 1: See letter of Rev. Ellis of Rangoon in Times of 25th
May, 1894.]