Shawn was bending to the oars, his long boating practice now standing him in good stead. The fumes from the burning oil were almost unbearable, threatening to suffocate the occupants of the yawl. Thirty yards away was the shore. The muscles in Shawn's arms were straining to their utmost. The heavily laden boat was almost dipping water.
The Cabin of the America fell with a crash.
"Sit steady, everybody!" cried Shawn. He turned and gazed toward the shore, and then put all his strength into the oars and ran the boat upon the shore. The occupants leaped out, giving joyful expressions for their safety. Shawn wrapped Mrs. Alden in his coat and carried her from the boat. On the bank was a log-cabin, from which a light shone. Hastening thither, he found the door open and a wood-fire burning in the fireplace, the family having gone to the scene of the disaster. Shawn placed Mrs. Alden in a chair and said, "Try to make the best of it until I return; I'm going back to save all I can."
"May God watch over you," sobbed Mrs. Alden.
Shawn sprang into the yawl and pushed out into the stream, and the work he did that night in saving struggling beings, is still talked about along that river. The boats were burning to the water's edge, and along the shore were sobs and groans from those who had reached land; cries of anguish from those who had lost their loved ones. Oh, the suffering of that winter night! Children with blistered limbs, crying for mothers whose voices were hushed beneath the stream; old men writhing in cruel pain, moaning in piteous tones; young men with folded arms hearing again the last sad cries of sweethearts as they were torn from them.
Shawn went back to the log-house and found Mrs. Alden in tears.
"Oh, my dear boy, if I were only strong enough to go among those suffering ones. God has been kind to give me strength to pass through this ordeal, but I am helpless to aid others."
Shawn stood by her chair; the frost had coated his dark hair, his cheeks seemed aflame from the exertion through which he had passed.