Among the passengers were a young gentleman and lady, who first became acquainted with each other on board. The lady was accompanied by her father. Upon an intimacy of a few hours an attachment seems to have been formed between this couple. When the passengers rushed to the deck, after the bursting forth of the flames, the lady discovered her new acquaintance on a distant part of the deck, forced her way to him, and implored him to save her. The only alternative left them was to jump overboard, or to submit to a more horrible fate. They immediately jumped, the gentleman making the first plunge, with a view of securing for the young and fair being, who had measurably committed to his hands her safety, a plank floating a short distance from the boat. As soon as the plank was secured, the lady leaped into the water and was buoyed up by her clothes, until the gentleman was enabled to float the plank to her. For a short time the young man thought that his fair charge was safe; but soon his hopes were blasted--one of the fallen timbers struck the lady on the head, her form sank upon the water, a momentary quivering was perceptible, and she disappeared from human view. Her father was lost, but the young gentleman was among the number picked up by the Clinton.
There was a fine race-horse on board, who, soon after the alarm, broke from his halter at the bow of the boat, and dashed through the crowd of passengers, prostrating all in his way; and then, rendered frantic by terror and pain, he reared and plunged into the devouring fire, and there ended his agony.
One of the persons saved, in describing the scene, says:--"The air was filled with shrieks of agony and despair. The boldest turned pale. I shall never forget the wail of terror that went up from the poor German emigrants, who were huddled together on the forward deck. Wives clung to their husbands, mothers frantically pressed their babes to their bosoms, and lovers clung madly to each other. One venerable old man, his gray hairs streaming on the wind, stood on the bows, and, stretching out his bony hands, prayed to God in the language of his father-land.
"But if the scene forward was terrible, that aft was appalling, for there the flames were raging in their greatest fury. Some madly rushed into the fire; others, with a yell like a demon, maddened with the flames, which were all around them, sprang headlong into the waves. The officers of the boat, and the crew, were generally cool, and sprang to lower the boats, but these were every one successively swamped by those who threw themselves into them, regardless of the execrations of the sailors, and of every thing but their own safety.
"I tried to act coolly--I kept near the captain, who seemed to take courage from despair, and whose bearing was above all praise. The boat was veering toward the shore, but the maddened flames now enveloped the wheel-house, and in a moment the machinery stopped. The last hope had left us--a wilder shriek rose upon the air. At this moment the second engineer, the one at the time on duty, who had stood by his machinery as long as it would work, was seen climbing the gallows-head, a black mass, with the flames curling all around him. On either side he could not go, for it was now one mass of fire. He sprang upward, came to the top, one moment felt madly around him, and then fell into the flames. There was no more remaining on board, for the boat now broached around and rolled upon the swelling waves, a mass of fire. I seized upon a settee near me, and gave one spring, just as the flames were bursting through the deck where I stood--one moment more and I should have been in the flames. In another instant I found myself tossed on a wave, grasping my frail support with a desperate energy."
One of the not least interesting facts connected with the catastrophe, was that the helmsman was found burnt to a cinder at his post. He had not deserted it even in the last extremity, but grasped with his charred fingers the wheel. His name was Luther Fuller. Honor to his memory!
A boy of twelve years of age, named Levi T. Beebee, belonging to Cleveland, Ohio, was among those saved. He exhibited a degree of self-possession and fortitude rarely surpassed. Though molten lead from the burning deck was dropping on his head, and his hands were scorched by the flames, he clung for at least two hours and a half to the chain leading from the stern to the rudder.
CONFLICT WITH AN INDIAN.
David Morgan had settled upon the Monongahela during the early part of the revolutionary war, and at this time had ventured to occupy a cabin at the distance of several miles from any settlement.