The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1855-06-28
SAVING TWO LIVES.
Hanorer, o., June Is, 1855.

From the Pride of the Mess" Naval Story Of the Cri-
mean War.
From his boyhood upwards, Herbert had al
ways had strongly impressed upon his mind,
when boating up and down the river, the hor-
rors of the well-known rock at the mouth of the
river Dart. He knew how many lives had been
lost upon it, how much property sacrificed on
its frightful altar and while it is the wonder OF
every one who visits Dartmouth, that such a
hideous danger can be left unbuoyed or un.
marked, everybody who passes up and down
the Dart hears some fearful legend of it's past
misdeed, and, shuddering, gives it the widest
possible berth.
While Herbert was straining his utmost
glance, watching for another CLEAN of light
ming to reveal the scene once more, something
like a faint cry was heard.
"By Heaven!" cried he, starting to his feet
I" that cry is from the rock, and it is a woman's
voice."
Without further thought, except to get to the
| scene of danger as quickly as possible, Herbert
dashed from his covert
Needless of the lightning, and regardless Of
the rain, he was speedily wet to the skin but
that was trivial matter.
After divers falls and bruises, he contrived
at last to get down to the shore opposite to the
point where he knew the rock was, and going
slightly up the river, so that the wind might
convey the cry OF the sufferers to him, instead
of drowning it, he listened for moment, and
distinctly heard the cries Of
"Help, help! We are drowning, we are
drowning!"
"Where are you-are you on the rock"
eyes," shouted back mans voice, GO we are
on the rock-the water is rising rapidly on us,
and our boat has gone down. Quick-make
haste-make haste, if you hope to save u.s."
"Have you time to wait while 1 run up to
Dittisham for boat?"
"No, no" shrieked back one of the voices /;
the water is above our waists already, and
sweeping over us with such force we must be
washed away in ten minutes"
Can you swim 2"
"No," was the answer.
"God help you! 1t will soon be over NUT.
tered Herbert, "and fear shall be lost, too.
Ny poor mother!" said he, throwing off his
clothes, one after another "but it is duty to
try; help me, God of Heaven!" cried the youth,
dropping on his knee for one moment; then
running down as far above the rock as ho
thought was practicable, shouted out
II will swim to you"
He then plunged boldly into the stream, with
nothing on but his shirt and trousers, having
previously tied the latter round his waist with
his neckerchief.
At the time that Herbert took his leap, the
tide was running strongly up the river. He
therefore swan boldly down the stream, as if
making for Dartmouth, proceeding slantingly
across the river towards the opposite shore,
where the beautiful woods of Greenaway shaded
the boyish steps of the immortal Walter Ra-
leigh.
In the course of a few minutes, he lifted his
voice up, "Where are your" but he heard no
answer, for the westerly storm swept up the
river at that moment with fresh gust, and
drowned the reply. In another second, the
heavens were once more brilliant with light
ming, and Herbert beheld, two or three yards
under his lee, the rugged point of the rock, like
some demon holding up his jagged head, while
cllnging to it, in all the agony and desperation
of impending death, was a young man, who
clasped in his arms a girl of some seventeen
| years.
Strange it is, that in single glance the hui
man mind takes in the whole character of the
| face on which it gazes. Even in that awful
hour, when the fearful grave that yawned be-
meath them appeared about to swallow up all
these three beings Herbert detected in that
countenance just the very face that seemed to
have haunted him in all the poetical day dreams
Of his soul for years. Large, full, speaking eyes