Martinsburg statesman. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1869-1906, 1906-08-10
They Wanted TO Be Heroes

Every man." said Whighams that
evening at the dinner table, ought
to be a hero In his wifes eyes. II
he fails to make good in this particu.
lar he is"
Hes dead one" said Conover. 81
agree with you"
"The big difficulty is" continued
Whighams, that opportunities to
show that fellow is made of the real
stuff never turn up in the humdrum
life we lead. There is nothing start
ling In being a designer Of apartment
buildings or a dealer in desirable real
estate. What the women like is some
thing snowy, something spectacular.
And | hold that the snowy kind OF
heroism is the poorest brand on the
market"
a coast guard really to fascinate a
woman" said Conover. There's no
chance for u.s."
Mrs. Whighams caught Mrs. Con-
overs eye. They they laughed aloud.
Don't you worry" said Conover's
wife. You'll both get your chances"
And they did get them that very
aight
AT 1915 a. m. Conover was awak-
sned from a deep sleep by the wife
Of his bosom, who was saying: John.
what is that awful noise? Is it fire
whistle? 600! And do you hear
that dog bowling? john" She
squeezed his arm. at makes me
afraid"
Conover listened. "Toot foot, foot.
toot!" long drawn out and mournful
ut isn't fire. said Conover. Its
boat. She must be in distress and
pretty close in shore"
In five minutes they were dressed
and creeping down the stairs. AS they
passed the Whighams' door voice ar
rested them. whats up?" Whighams
asked In two minutes more the
Whighams had Joined the relief party.
The four of them hurried up Sheri-
dan road to the north. Sure enough,
as they looked out into the darkness
that covered the lake, they saw the
lights of the boat-three lights. She
was close in shore and crying dis
mally.
A policeman they passed asked jovi-
ally If they were going to rescue the
ship.
"In other and happier times there
might have been chance for us to
show our mettle," said Conover.
What a pity that we cannot man the
lifeboat and earn a few Carnegie med
ais! The boat will be pulled off in
half an hour by the tugs. There's no
opportunity for u.s.
But there was. 1t came on wheel
barrow. The thing on the wheelbar-
cow was a canoe, metal canoe about
as big and as seaworthy as tin bath
tub. A man was pushing the wheel
barrow through the sand. Whighams
and Conover helped him. They ought
to have kept their hands off and hur-
ried away with their wives and their
regulations, but they didn't.
1t was the craziest little canoe any
one ever saw. The benedicts helped
the man drag it to the waters edge
and then-oh, complete fatuousness!
they helped him launch it.
Suddenly it became evident that the
man with the tin bathtub intended to
rescue the stranded steamship. Also
the man was human and he did not
thirst to go alone. Perhaps he real
lied that if there was glory to be won
it would not be necessary for him to
corner the market.
Say" said the man in the canoe
rs he picked up his oars, don't one Of
you fellows want to come along?
There's room"
Neither Conover nor Whighams
spoke. The man in the canoe re-
peated his question and repeated it
again. Afterward Whighams philos-
ophized with himself on the workings
Of the human mind at such times. He
was not afraid. He was sure of that.
He simply could not see the use of
trying to rescue 10,000-ton freight
steamer by means Of tin canoe.
The night was black and the water
dark, cold and treacherous looking.
Besides, he had already lost an hours
sleep and he had to be up early In
the morning. His life-insurance pay
ments were a bit behind. There was
no sense in it anyhow. The man was
foolish to go out on the lake that way.
The two men on the bench were
mute. The man in the bathtub dipped
his oars, gave pull and his frail
craft began to melt into the darkness.
Not light did he carry and inside
of ten seconds the night had swallowed
him.
After that nothing happened. The
group stood still and watched. The
dark, chilly waves rolled fawningly
up along the shore. breaking into lit
tie whitecaps. The sand continued to
leak into their shoes. Was the man
in the canoe drowned?
At the end of half an hour the prov
of the sea-going bathtub grated on the
sand, The lone navigator was safe,
but perspiring.
"Chat blessed oreboat," said he, 'is
almost a mile from shore, She is the
Beaverton, from Marquette to South