Brave Tom; Or, The Battle That Won, Edward Sylvester Ellis [best classic romance novels TXT] 📗

"A Man overboard!"

This was the startling cry that rang out from the multitude swarming forward on the ferry-boat D. S. Gregory, one wintry night, as she was approaching the dock at the foot of Courtlandt Street, on her trip from Jersey City.

For a few seconds confusion and excitement reigned supreme.

The boat was crowded with passengers, many of whom had passed out of the forward cabin doors, and were pushing toward the bow, eager to be the first to leap ashore, scarcely willing to wait till the lattice-like gates were drawn aside to allow them to pass.

Some were smoking, many were talking, and no one was dreaming of anything wrong, when the alarming cry resounded through the frosty air.

The captain heard it on the instant, as did the engineer; for the latter checked the swinging of the ponderous working-beam at the same second that he received the signal from the captain--a thing which never happens unless in some such emergency.

As the throbbing of the engine ceased and the boat glided smoothly along, there was such a general rush toward the bow that a dangerous dipping of the craft followed--a peril which no one beside the officials on the vessel observed.

"Who is he?"

"Did he jump over?"

"Did he fall?"

"Was he pushed?"

"Can he be saved?"

"Where is he?"

These and similar questions were on a hundred lips; and before any intelligible answer could be given, a woman gave utterance to the most heart-rending scream, and made such frantic attempts to spring into the water, that the intervention of several strong men was required to prevent her.

"It must be her husband."

But the expression was yet in the mouth of the speaker, when, falling limp and despairing into the sturdy arms of the unknown friends, she wailed,--

"Will no one save my child? Let me go to her; she is all that is left to me--oh, let me die with her!"

"It's a little girl that fell overboard," called out some one who had seen the accident. "There she is--hello!"

The last exclamation was caused by a second splash, as a dark body clave the air and dropped into the water within a few yards of where the dress of the little girl could be faintly discerned.

"Heavens, that is only a little boy!" called out an excited individual. "Are all the children to be drowned before our eyes?"

The general belief was that this lad, through some strange mischance, had also fallen into the river, a belief which was quickly dispelled by another boy, no doubt his playmate, calling out,--

"That's my chum, Tom, and you needn't be afraid of him; he can outswim a duck and a goose and a fish all together; he jumped over to save that little girl, seeing as all you big men was afraid--and you can just bet he'll do it too."

There was a tone of absolute certainty in these remarkable words which lifted a mountain from more than one heart, and instantly transferred all interest to the brave young lad who had sprung into the water to save a little girl that was a stranger to him.

A cold wintry night was closing in when this accident took place, and the lights from the shipping and the great city twinkled like myriads of stars.

Great black hulls lay still and motionless in the water, as if they were enormous ogres of the deep waiting for human prey to come into their vast maws; steam-tugs were puffing and darting here and there, in and out among the shipping, as though they were playing hide-and-seek with each other; another ferry-boat was just putting out from the dock on the New York side, the paddle-wheels crunching and grinding the chunks of ice, as if masticating its food.

In the chilly gloom of the evening, the crowds that swarmed to the gunwales and peered forward could see something floating in the water; and though no one could define exactly what it was with the aid of the sight alone, yet, by a general consent, it was accepted as the form of the little girl that had fallen overboard.

A second figure was seen working his way toward the nerveless and silent one.

The two were no more than fairly out of the path of the steamer, which was gliding so closely by them that any movement of the wheels would have endangered both.

Among those who forced their way to the side of the boat was the lad who gave utterance to the words before recorded. It was natural that he should be deeply interested when his dearest friend was risking his life to save another. As soon as the lad on the boat caught fair sight of the other, he shouted,--

"Hello, Tom! do you want any help?"

"Three chaars for the wee one!" called out an Irishman, boiling over with enthusiasm, "and if there's a spalpeen on boord that don't jine in, I'll crack the head of the same, or me name isn't Patsey McConough!"

But the deck-hands had not been idle spectators during the few minutes since the accident.

Prompt as they had been, the children were, however, so far off at the moment of tossing over the life-preservers and hurling out the ropes, that none reached the lad, who was too intent on saving the child to pay any attention to these little helps, which he did not need.

When the craft stood at a dead halt, the engineer caused a slight and only partial reverse movement of the wheels, so as to approach the couple.

"Yes, there he comes," shouted a tall fellow, leaning so far over the rail that he was in danger of falling, "and I'm blessed if he ain't got the girl!"

Such was the fact, as all perceived the next moment. The boy was supporting the little form with one hand, while he propelled himself with the other.

As soon as Tom came within reach, another lasso-like fling was made, the coil dropping so near the boy that he succeeded in grasping it with his free hand.

Whoever the little fellow was that was acting the rˆle, he certainly was a genius in his way. His presence of mind was almost marvelous.

When the waves from the threshing-paddle so unexpectedly overwhelmed him, he had just time to draw a deep inspiration before he was environed by death. The most skillful swimmer in the world cannot sustain himself in sea-foam, or in the white caps of the breakers. The only safe course when thus caught is to hold your breath and wait for "solid water," where you can paddle your own canoe.

Almost any one thus entrapped would have let go the rope and been drowned, but the boy held on with the grip of death, and as soon as he could catch a mouthful of fresh air, shouted,--

"Pull up; I'm all right."

A dozen hands were outstretched to help, and the next minute the brave lad, still holding the senseless girl with one arm, was drawn up on deck, and received into the crowd, who almost pulled him apart in their frenzied congratulations.

It was found that the little girl was alive, and carrying her into the cabin where her mother had just recovered from her swoon, a medical gentleman announced that there was nothing to fear.

The wheels of the ferry-boat were again in motion, and the slip was reached, while a hundred men were demanding the name of the young hero, praising him, offering to make up a purse, hurrahing, and going wild over what was unquestionably a most praiseworthy deed.

In the midst of the excitement and rattling of chains, the crowd swarmed off the boat, and the lads were lost sight of.