“I was swimming to the shore with all my might, endeavoured to sustain a mother and her child. She sank twice, and yet I bore her on. My strength failed me. The babe was nothing—a mere cork. ‘Go, go,’ said the brave mother, ‘save my child, save my—’ and she sank, to rise no more. Nerved by the resolution of that woman, I reached the shore in safety. The babe I saved. Ere I had reached the beach, the Sherrod had swung off the bar, and was floating down, the engine having ceased running. In every direction heads dotted the surface of the river. The burning wreck now wore a new, and still more awful appearance. Mothers were seen clinging, with the last hope to the blazing timbers, and dropping off one by one. The screams had ceased. A sullen silence rested over the devoted vessel. The flames became tired of their destructive work.
“While I sat dripping and overcome upon the beach, a steam boat, the Columbus, came in sight, and bore for the wreck. It seemed like one last ray of hope gleaming across the dead gloom of that night. Several wretches were saved. And still another, the Statesman, came in sight. More, more were saved.
“A moment to me had only elapsed, when high in the heavens the cinders flew, and the country was lighted all round. Still another boat came booming on. I was happy that more help had come. After an exchange of words with the Columbus, the captain continued on his way under full steam. Oh, how my heart sank within me! The waves created by his boat sent many a poor mortal to his long, long home. A being by the name of Dougherty was the captain of that merciless boat. Long may he be remembered!
“My hands were burnt, and now I began to experience severe pain. The scene before me—the loss of my two sisters and brother, whom I had missed in the confusion, all had steeled my heart. I could not weep—I could not sigh. The cries of the babe at my side were nothing to me.
“Again—another explosion! and the waters closed slowly and sullenly over the scene of disaster and death. Darkness resumed her sway, and the stillness was only interrupted by the distant efforts of the Columbus and Statesman in their laudable exertions to save human life.
“Captain Castleman lost, I believe, a father and child. Some argue, this is punishment enough. No, it is not. He had the lives of hundreds under his charge. He was careless of his trust; he was guilty of a crime that nothing will ever wipe out. The bodies of two hundred victims are crying out from the depth of the father of waters for vengeance. Neither society nor law will give it. His punishment is yet to come. May I never meet him!
“I could tell of scenes of horror that would rouse the indignation of a stoic; but I have done. As to myself, I could tell you much to excite your interest. It was more than three weeks after the occurrence before I ever shed a tear. All the fountains of sympathy had been dried up, and my heart was as stone. As I lay on my bed the twenty-fourth day after, tears, salt tears, came to my relief, and I felt the loss of my sisters and brother more deeply than ever. Peace be to their spirits! they found a watery grave.
“In the course of all human events, scenes of misery will occur. But where they rise from sheer carelessness, it requires more than christian fortitude to forgive the being who is in fault. I repeat, may I never meet Captain Castleman or Captain Dougherty!
“I shall follow this tale of woe by some strictures on the mode of building steam-boats in the west, and show that human life has been jeopardised by the demoniac spirit of speculation, cheating and roguery. The fate of the Ben Sherrod shall be my text.”
It will be seen from this narrative, that the loss of the vessel was occasioned by racing with another boat, a frequent practice on the Mississippi. That people should run such risk, will appear strange but if any of my readers had ever been on board of a steam vessel in a race, they would not be surprised; the excitement produced by it is the most powerful that can be conceived—I have myself experienced it, and can answer for the truth of it. At first, the feeling of danger predominates, and many of the passengers beg the captain to desist: but he cannot bear to be passed by, and left astern. As the race continues, so do they all warm up, until even those who, most aware of the danger, were at first most afraid, are to be seen standing over the very boilers, shouting, huzzaing, and stimulating the fireman to blow them up; the very danger gives an unwonted interest to the scene; and females, as well as men, would never be persuaded to cry out, “Hold, enough!”