“The sleep of innocent youth is ever sound, and a severe storm which arose had been raging some time before it broke his deep slumber.
“He started from his pillow, and his first thoughts were fears for his parents’ safety. The wind roared fearfully, and the rain beat in torrents against his chamber window. He looked out on the thick darkness that obscured every object, and his heart sunk within him at the dreary view. Overcome with the distress of his feelings, he leaned against the casement, and gave vent to the friendly tears that often relieve the sadness of boyhood. Suddenly a faint and distant flash of light broke through the gloom. It was gone, but a sound followed which, even amid the howling of the storm, could not be mistaken. It struck on the ear of the weeping boy, with startling certainty.
“ ‘It is, oh! yes, it is a signal gun of distress, oh! my mother! my father!’ and sinking on his knees, he breathed an agonized prayer for their safety, then starting to his feet, he hastily threw on his clothes, and hurried down stairs without knowing his object. The house stood near the river, and on opening the door he saw some person moving along the bank. He approached; it was the chief. ‘Is it you, Wiccónsat? oh! what a night!’ The Indian pressed his hand in gloomy silence, and stood in a listening attitude, with his face turned towards that part of the horizon from whence the flash had appeared. Another gleamed across the dismal night, and the sullen peal that followed, fell, like the bolt of death, on their hearts.
“ ‘It is a call for aid,’ exclaimed the chief, ‘and perhaps thy mother’s life is in danger.’ ‘And my father’s too,’ added the shuddering boy. ‘Alas! Wiccónsat, what can we do?’ ‘I follow that light,’ he answered, as the flash of another minute gun shone.
“ ‘Oh! take me then with you, good chief, leave me not here in suspense!’
“ ‘Alas! my boy, this stormy night ill suits thy tender frame. Wait thou till morning breaks, then thou canst follow with some of the townsmen. The light seems near the mouth of the Potomac.’
“ ‘Who speaks below,’ said the tutor’s voice from the window; ‘surely, Master James, you are not out on such a night?’ ‘Indeed I am,’ replied the youth, ‘there is a vessel in distress, it may be the Huntress, in which my parents are expected; surely I cannot sleep now.’
“ ‘Well, well, if that’s the case, it’s bad enough, but I think it’s not probable; however, I’ll be down directly.’ By this time several of the neighbours had joined them, and they determined to proceed in the supposed direction of the vessel. By the first dawn of light they found themselves on the shore of the Potomac river, near its entrance into the Chesapeake Bay. The rain had ceased, and daylight, as it broke from the clouded east, shewed to their anxious gaze, a dismasted vessel, which appeared in a wrecked and sinking state. Two boats, crowded with the crew and passengers, were seen contending with the raging waves, endeavouring to reach the land. Some water casks which had been washed on shore, were eagerly examined by the distressed James, to discover the name of the vessel. It met his eye, and with a cry of terror he threw himself into the arms of the Indian.
“ ‘It is the Huntress! oh! Wiccónsat! my parents will be lost!’
“ ‘Hast thou no confidence in the Great Being thy mother worships?’ he softly said, as he pressed him to his breast, but his eye was fairly fixed on one of the boats, in which he thought he could distinguish the garments of a female. The foaming waters seemed to threaten instant destruction to the frail barques, as they tost from wave to wave, sometimes half hid in the surf that broke over them. At this moment a mingled cry reached the shore, and but one boat was seen, the other was ’whelmed beneath the waters. Wiccónsat broke from the clinging arms of the youth, and plunged into the waves. For some time he was lost to their view, but his strong and sinewy arms forced a passage to the scene of distress, and in a short time he was seen returning, supporting, with one arm, the form of a female. The young James, who had been forcibly withheld from following, now rushed to meet him, and Rosalie (for it was she) opened her eyes to be clasped to the bosom of her son. She lived, she breathed, and the first word that trembled on her lips was the name of her husband. Scarcely had she spoken, ere the generous chief had again thrown himself into the waves. But his strength was exhausted by previous exertion, and when, with difficulty, he had nearly reached the overturned boat to which the husband of Rosalie, with others, now clung, a floating piece of the ship’s mast struck him on the temple. In the mean time, the other boat had safely landed its crew, and was despatched to the aid of the sufferers, who were all, with the exception of two, saved.