Twenty-sixth.—MISS HILL. (1836.)
This young woman, when landing at New Holland, ran down the plank, when her foot slipped and she fell into the water, at the low side of the jetty. I sprang to her assistance, but she was fast among some pieces of timber. We were both in great peril, the tide was coming in, and had it reached a foot higher, we should both have been drowned. We were so placed as to be compelled to dive under water before we could reach the shore. I told her that there was no other way of our being saved, and that the attempt must be made at once, and without waiting for her consent, I grasped her in my arm, and under the water we went. The people thought we should have been drowned, but we soon got clear of the jetty; some threw us one thing and some another; at length James Nicholson got into a boat, took us in, and landed us safe ashore. I went to a public house, where I got a glass of brandy, and borrowed the ostler's clothes, and I ailed nothing afterwards. The young woman remained at New Holland all night, and took her departure next morning, without leaving behind her even a single expression of verbal gratitude for what I had done for her. For some time it was reported that she was the daughter of Sir Rowland Hill, post-master general, but I wrote to that Knight, and found that she did not belong to his family. She made a fine appearance and was well dressed, but when I think of the shabby way in which she left the scene of her distress, I can't call her a lady. I am devoutly grateful that I was the means of saving her, but the case would not have been made thus prominent, had not several gentlemen of Hull, who were present on the occasion, refused to let the case slip. Witnesses—Robert Todd, Captain Thomas Oswell.
Twenty-seventh.—HANNAH WEBSTER.* (1837.)
This I regard as a most wonderful deliverance. Some said she fell, others that she jumped, from the Barton horse-boat into the Ferry-boat dock, Hull. Thomas Spencer, who was working at what was then called 'The knock-em-down jetty,' saw the woman drop into the water, and called out, 'A woman overboard.' I hastened to her and soon got her ashore, when she was completely exhausted, and we sent for a doctor. A gentleman came to me and said 'Did you fetch yon woman out of the water?' 'Yes, Sir,' was my reply, when he made this strange and unaccountable remark—'If you had let her stop in I would have given you half-a-crown, but as it is, I shall not give you anything.' 'Thank you, Sir, but I'm glad she's out, notwithstanding; and I would rather save that woman than I would have all the half-crowns in Hull,' was my indignant reply. I never stood to ask whether a drowning person was rich or poor, friend or foe, drunk or sober. If a person was overboard I did my best to rescue that person from drowning. We took this poor, despised woman to a house in Humber-street, and I gave my word that all expenses should be paid. She lodged in Mill-street, and was a widow, thirty seven years of age, and had two children. I went to see her next morning, but she had gone, so I had all expenses to pay. I have always thought this woman was one of those poor, unfortunate, and despairing ones, so touchingly described by Hood:—
'Mad from life's history,
Glad to death's mystery
Swift to be hurled,
Anywhere, anywhere,
Out of the world.'
Witnesses—William Taylor, George Horsefield.
Twenty-eighth.—MISS ELLGARD.* (1837.)
This young woman, who, there is reason to suspect, was a similar character to Mrs. Webster, fell from McDonald's wharf, into Toronto Bay, America. I had in charge at this time a vessel belonging to Mr. Garsides, and when walking down to the wharf, one cold night, in the month of October, I heard a heavy splash in the water, and the next moment a loud scream. I ran to the place and saw this woman struggling in the water. She was very difficult to get at, but at last I caught hold of her, and soon landed her on the wharf. A man was waiting to receive her, and they instantly walked off. A few days after, however, she called at Mr. Baker's, 'Black Swan' Inn and asked for me, and on going to the door she told me that I had saved her life, and that she was twenty-nine years of age. Now there had been some strange reports about her and the man who met her; indeed it was commonly believed, in Toronto, that he had pushed her overboard. But she said, 'The report is false. I fell overboard.' She thanked me very kindly; I urged her to tell me her name, which she did, after I had promised not to tell anyone; this made me suspect that there was something wrong in connection with her being overboard. She urged me to accept some money, but I would not for I am sure her gratitude amply satisfied me for what I had done for her. Witnesses—Thomas Thomas, John Baker.
Twenty-ninth.—JANE GOUGH.* (1843.)
When seven years old, she fell into Hessle harbour; her mother gave the alarm, and in a few moments I was in the water and saved her. I remember but little about this case, but the girl's father often says, when referring to myself, 'That man saved my child's life twice, and the second time was as good as the the first.' I will explain the second case. Miss Gough, many years after her deliverance, married Mr. Shaw, a captain, and together they have brought up a family of children, in respectable circumstances. Mrs. Shaw knew me well, but I had not seen her for many years, when this strange event took place:—I was captain of the Dock Company's steamer, and on going one dark night into the Victoria Dock, I found a deep timber-laden vessel, with her stem upon the bank and her stern in the channel, and she was rapidly filling with water. I at once went to her assistance, and having fastened a strong rope to her, and then to my packet, I tried, first in one way and then in another, to pull her off, but she seemed immoveable; and I began to fear I should not accomplish my object. But I always believed in that little catch,