Thirty-eighth.—ANN MARTIN.* (1860.)
While the Humber Dock gate was being closed, this woman, who was forty-eight years of age, came up to the bridge, and refusing to wait until the proper time for passing, she attempted to step from one half of the bridge to the other, and in making the attempt, she fell, head first, into the water below. It was high tide at the time, and she was rapidly carried away by the stream. The night was dark and I was very ill, but when I heard that a woman was overboard, I ran to the spot; but alas! I could not see her, and for a moment I thought there was no chance of saving her. But knowing that assistance must be immediately rendered or the woman would be out of sight, and beyond the reach of help, I plunged into the water and soon brought her to the bridge. They let down a boat hook to which we both clung, and then a ladder, up which to ascend. But I told them I would rather have a boat, which was soon brought and we were landed in safety. While clinging to the hook, the woman, as might be expected, was full of alarm, but I knew she was safe enough, so to allay her fears, and wile away a few moments of painful, but unavoidable waiting, I jocosely said to her, 'Hold fast now, Missus. You are as safe now as though you were watching the pot boil over.' She afterwards told me that the most pleasant sensation she ever experienced in her life, was at the moment when she felt some one had hold of her in the water. This woman has manifested the liveliest gratitude for what I did for her, and she never crosses the bridge without calling at my house to enquire after me, and she often says, to my good wife, 'You know I aint right if I don't see the master about.' She was very poor at the time I saved her, but on the following Christmas she brought me a duck for my dinner. I refused to take it, for I knew she could not afford to give me it; but she said, 'You must take it; I meant giving you a Goose, but I could'nt afford to buy one. Now do take the duck, do, Sir.' I saw it would grieve her if I refused, so I took it; and this is the first, and only occasion that I have taken aught from those whom I have rescued. And I am sure in this case, it was more blessed to give than it was to receive, for the woman was both satisfied and delighted. The gratitude of this poor woman, and also that of her family, seems unabated. Witness—William Turner.
Thirty-ninth.—JOHN EABY.* (July 30, 1861.)
Police Constable Green, 69, was on duty at the South-end about half-past ten o'clock, on the morning of the above date, and about one hour before high water, when he saw Eaby, in a fit, fall from the quay into the Humber Dock basin. He immediately called out, 'A man overboard,' and with the assistance of another man, got the grapplings and caught hold of Eaby by his clothes, but he being of great weight, they tore asunder, and he again dropped into the water. Green then called for further assistance, when our friend ran to the rescue, and urged by Eaby's fearful condition, and the benevolent feelings of his own noble spirit, he immediately jumped into the water and seized the drowning man. From the effects of the fit, the man struggled desperately. Our friend tried to get a rope round him, but could not; he got his hand into his preserver's mouth, and would have drowned him, had not Mr. Ellerthorpe had so many opportunities of trial in such cases. Eaby's first expression on coming out of his fit was, 'What are you doing here?' when his deliverer replied, 'Havn't I as much right here as you have?' then Eaby went off into another fit. By this time a boatman, named John Tickells, came to our friend's assistance, and was joined by Robert Ash, gateman, Humber Dock, who slipped the grappling rope into the boat. They then both seized Eaby, and got him into the boat and tied his legs, otherwise, so desperate was he, he would have split the boat up. They then assisted our friend into the boat. Eaby struggled so desperately that the men had great difficulty in holding him in the boat. He was taken to his house, 20, Dagger Lane, where he was attended by Mr. Lowther, surgeon, accompanied by policeman Green. He soon escaped, without clothes, and, followed along the street by a crowd of people, ran into No. 11, Fish Street, and got into one of Mr. Alcock's beds. He was thirty-seven years of age, and had been subject to fits for years, which were often very violent. Witnesses—William Turner, William Steadman.
This rescue—the last of a large number that Mr. Ellerthorpe was the honoured instrument of achieving—was witnessed by hundreds of spectators, who were filled with admiration and wonder. These were seen in their countenances and heard in their shouts of applause, as he struggled with this poor unfortunate man. Not only so, but it led the public to raise a subscription for Mr. Ellerthorpe. Two working men, Mr. William Turner, and Mr. William Steadman, who witnessed the humane and heroic conduct of their fellow townsman, took the initiative, and how hard they worked, and how nobly they accomplished their object, will be seen from our next chapter.
The above list of thirty-nine persons saved by our friend, contains three little girls, fifteen youths, six women, and fourteen men, in the strength and vigour of their days; and one old man burdened by the weight of seventy-five years.
They were saved at the following places: (America,) Quebec, two; Toronto, one; Barton, one; Castleford, one; Humber Bank, one; Burlington Bay, one; London, two; New Holland, three; Hessle, five; Hull, twenty-two.
These deliverances took place in the following years: 1820, two; 1822, one; 1824, one; 1825, two; 1826, one; 1828, two; 1830, one; 1833, three; 1834, three; 1835, three; 1836, seven; 1837, two; 1843, one; 1844, one; 1846, three; 1849-50, two; 1852, one; 1854, one; 1860, one; 1861, one.
But though Eaby was the last person our friend actually rescued, his readiness to imperil his own life, that he might save the lives of others, did not expire on that ever memorable occasion. A clergyman called to see him, and amongst other things, said, 'Now Ellerthorpe, your work is done; God has honoured you above most men, be satisfied; remember the old adage, "the pitcher goes often to the well, but gets broken at last."' Our friend shook his head and said, 'Do you think, Sir, I could see a man overboard and not plunge in after him? No, Sir.' And though upwards of sixty-one years of age, and suffering acutely at times from his oft exposures in the water and cold, he yet thought as deeply and felt as strongly as ever for his drowning fellow creatures; and on two or three occasions his old zeal rose to furnace heat. In proof of this we give the following extracts from the Hull papers:
A SAILOR DROWNED.