The free South. [volume] (Beaufort, S.C.) 1863-1864, 1864-10-01

. and ever, Amen" How energetic, bow
real, seemed such an ascription Of praise,
such an acknowledgement Of Divine
power But singular, almost simultane-
ously, at least before they were wei
ended, there was cry from the boat,
man, "Tliere she is Praised be the
Lord r'
Poor fellow he WIS an Ic..shma1, and
half-witted as he must have been to have
brought himself and Us into such i1nmi-
nent peril, he uttered a thanksgiving not
so often heard from more enlightened
men among these who so down to the
sea in ships.
The men started up. In the twilight
was seen q trail of smoke, then white
chimney, then the great dark hulk and
soon the stamping paddles, walking
through the clashing billows, in which for
six hours we had been tossing, still
spared, while still almost ready to perish.
Now, ali our fear was that we should not
be seen, be hidden in the trough OF the
sea just as our ive-preserver passed rs
by. The men held red handkerchiefs
aloft, and the boatmen shouted. But the
roar of the wind was louder than their
shouts and, as the means of safety ap-
preached, so did the torments of fear and
suspense increase in intensity. I recol-
lect holding up white handkerchief, that
was soon rent from my feeble hand, and
borne swiftly away on the wings of the
wind and as I uttered cry that had not
escaped me before, the old Scotch woman
murmured, "The Lord is my light and
my salvation whom, then, shall l fear
The Lord is the strength of my life; Of
whom shall be afraid 90
On comes the great steamer; her noise
is heard, her paddles are seen but can
she see US :? Shout-shout louder still
We who cannot shout, cry to those who
can. The shouts are not heard, the cries
are borne away with the bowling wind ;
the waves appear to roll over and bury
them. But mercy is around US. We are
seen. The steamer stops and amid and
above the roar of wind and wave, comes
the deep toned voice of the captains
speaking trumpet, in sailor fashion, de-
manding, with the usual expletive, "Who
tie devil are you, and what are you doing
there ?'
Our boat nears the vessel, that looks a
leviathan beside it and a storm of furious
abiurgations is shcwered by the captain
on our luckless boatman. A rope-ladder
is hastily let down; the bulwarks are
lined by al on board, full of wonder and
compassion /; up jump our two male COM
panions, and are the first eagerly to
ascend the ladder of safety, leaving the
two women to follow il they please. I
determined to follow the Scotch widow
though she was not the first to rise, [
made her go before me-. The pitching
of the boat alongside of the steamer was
frightful. But 10! the calm, stealfast
heart of the old widow fails at the final
moment she has crept about half way
up the ladder, and there she sticks fiat
against the side of the tossing steamer.
In vain the captain commands, the mate
entreats, the sailors encourage ; there she
sticks, as if fastened to the ships side.
Her hands have grasped, with SOFT Of
death clutch, to a step of the ladder OF
rope, and nothing can unclasp them, nor
can she be moved up or down. In vain
I urged her to let me save myself. There
I am in the pitching boat, the unhappy
boatman from below, and the sailors