HIS METHOD OF RESCUING THE DROWNING.

For acts of pure, unselfish daring, in rescuing human life, the annals of our friend need not shun comparison with those of any other man within Her Majesty’s dominion. It appears that, amid his wicked and wayward career, he had a ‘deep and unaccountable impression’ that one part of his mission into the world was to save human life. Beyond dispute, one of the best swimmers of his time, he was never, after his boyhood, satisfied with swimming as a mere art. It was naught to him if it did not help to make his fellow men better, safer, and braver. It will be seen that the first person he rescued from drowning was his own father, and that event ever afterwards nerved him to do his best to save his fellow-creatures. Indeed the desire to rescue the drowning burnt in his soul with all the ardour of an absorbing passion. It was the spring of his ready thoughts; it controlled his feelings and guided his actions; it prompted him to face the greatest difficulties without the least fear, and when in the midst of the most threatening dangers, it enabled him to summon up a calmness and resolution that never failed.

The writer in The Shipwrecked Mariners’ Magazine says, ’Ellerthorpe’s exploits in saving life date from the year 1820, and from that time to the present it may be safely asserted that he has never hesitated to risk his own life to save that of a fellow-creature. The danger incurred in jumping overboard to rescue a drowning person is very great. Many expert swimmers shrink from it. Ellerthorpe has encountered this risk under almost every variety of circumstance. He has followed the drowning, unseen in the darkness of the night, in the depth of winter, under rafts of timber, under vessels at anchor or in docks, from great heights, and often to the bottom in great depths of water, and what is very remarkable, never in vain. Fortuna fortes favet (fortune favours the brave), is an adage true in his case. He never risked his life to save another without success.’

Even to an experienced swimmer and diver, like our friend, the task of saving a drowning person is not easy, and the grip and grapple of some of those whom he rescued, had well nigh proved a fatal embrace, and it was only by the utmost coolness, skill, bravery, and self-control that he escaped.

But he shall tell his own simple, noble tale. ’During the last forty-eight years I have done all that lay in my power to rescue my fellow-creatures, when in drowning circumstances. By night and by day, in darkness or in light, in winter or in summer, I was always ready to obey the summons when the cry, “a man overboard,” fell on my ears. And I have had to rescue the drowning in widely different ways. Sometimes I seized them tightly by the right arm, and then, hold them at arm’s length, soon reached the land. In some instances they seized me by my shoulder or arm, when, leaving hold of them, and, throwing both my hands into the water, I managed to reach the shore. In other instances I found them so exhausted that they were incapable of taking hold of me, and in these cases, I had to carry them as a mother would carry her child. And in two or three instances, I thought they were dead, and, with feelings easier imagined than expressed, I bore them up in my arms; when suddenly, and with great strength, they sprang upon my head, and oftener than once, under these circumstances, I was on the point of being drowned. Some of those whom I saved were much heavier and stronger than myself, and when they got hold of me I found it difficult, and sometimes impossible, to shake them off. When I rescued Robert Brown, the night was pitchy dark, and for some time I could not see him; and when I got to him he clutched me in such a manner as to prevent my swimming. When I seized the young Woodman, I thought he was dead, but, after a few moments, he made a great spring at me, and clutched hold of my head in such a way as to prevent me swimming for some seconds. When pinioned closely, I generally adopted this plan, which proved to be the best under the circumstances: I threw myself on my back and pushed the drowning person on before me, and in this way I managed to keep them up for a time, and with comparative ease to myself. I often said to persons in a drowning state, “Now, hold fast by me, and don’t exert yourself, and I’ll make you all right.” It was not often I could persuade them to act thus, but whenever they could, they got upon me; for “a drowning person will catch at a straw.” I believe I have fetched out of the water not fewer than fifty drowning persons, and, with scarce an exception, they tried to seize me, and thus rendered their deliverance a matter of great difficulty. In fact, it would be comparatively easy to fetch a drowning man out of water if he would just take hold of one’s arm, and thus keep himself from sinking, and let one tow him ashore.

’In many instances, as will be seen, I had to run a great distance, and when almost out of breath, I have plunged into the water, and in that state had to struggle with those on the point of drowning. I remember that, on one occasion, when staying at a public house in America, the landlord came running into the room, and cried out, “a man overboard.” I ran 200 yards, and on reaching the spot I was out of breath, when in I plunged, but soon found I could not stay under the water for more than a few seconds. The water was clear and fresh, with long grass at the bottom; but alas! I could not find the young man, and he was drowned. I arrived too late to be of any service, for it was found afterwards that he had pulled himself on the bottom of the river with the long grass to a distance of fifty yards from the spot where he fell in.

’My first object, after I had plunged into the water, was to catch a sight of the drowning person, and if I could once do that, I always felt confident I should soon have him in my grasp. It is a most difficult thing to search for a drowning person, especially in muddy water. I had to make this attempt again and again, and sometimes the fear has crept over me that my exertions would be in vain, when I made the most prodigious and exhausting efforts. And that I have never failed, in a single instance, is to me a source of great gratitude to God, “in whose hand my breath is, and whose are all my ways."’

’I remember once I had my leg crushed between our packet and the pier, and for some days after I could not walk without the aid of crutches. One day I got down to the South End, but soon felt tired, and returned home; but after a short rest, I again went to the pier, when I was told that, during my short absence, a cabman, named Sharpe, had fallen into the harbour and was drowned. I was filled with indescribable distress at the news, and said, “If I had been here I would have saved him, despite my broken leg. At least I would have tried.” A man, who professed to be a great swimmer, was present, and he answered, “O, I can swim as well as you can,” when my muscles began to quiver, and my blood to throb, and I replied, in no very good temper, I assure you. “I dispute that, unless you mean now that I have my broken leg. Why did’nt you try to save him?” I always felt that I would much rather have the satisfaction of having tried to save a drowning person and fail, than have the miserable satisfaction of shaking my head and shrugging my shoulders and saying, “Oh, I knew it would be of no use trying to save him; it was foolish to try.” “I could have done it,” never saved a drowning man. “I will try,” has enabled me, under God, to save fifty of my fellow creatures.

I do not wish to intimate that every man who sees a fellow creature drowning, ought to plunge into the water to rescue that person. Indeed, I have seen two or three instances where men, who could not swim themselves, have jumped into the water to save the drowning, and in every instance the consequences have nearly been fatal. Before a person makes such an attempt, he should have tested his own ability to swim. If he can float himself and believes he can save the drowning person, he ought to make the attempt, and God will help him. This is not mere theory, but what I have felt again and again. Ever after my conversion to God, I used to pray, when plunging into the water, Lord help me, and knowing as I did, that prayer melts the heart and moves the arm of Jehovah, I felt confident he would help me; and so he did; for I often, when in the water, felt a sweet consciousness that God was with me. He taught my hands to war with the waters, and my fingers to grasp my precious freight. When struggling with the boy Woodman, these words came forcibly into my mind, and I repeated them in the water:

“When all thy mercies, O my God,
My rising soul surveys,
Transported with the view, I’m lost
In wonder, love, and praise.”

’I always felt it my duty, after rescuing a drowning person, to go to the house of God at night, and return public thanks to the Almighty. Ministers in the town, and especially the Wesleyan ministers, have often returned thanks to God from the pulpit, on the following Sabbath. On the morning following the deliverance, I generally went to see the rescued person, and sought to improve the event by impressing their mind with the uncertainty of life and with the importance of being prepared for death.

’In the following list I have given, as far as my memory and knowledge enabled me, a true and faithful account of the persons whom I have rescued from drowning. Extracts from newspapers, and letters from the parties themselves, and also from many who were eye-witnesses of their deliverance, have been freely used. There are several whom I have, at different times, saved from a watery grave, not included in this list, but as these events produced but little impression on my mind at the time of their occurrence, and as I am utterly unable to give either the names of the parties, or the time when I saved them, I can make no reliable mention of them at present, though I hope to be able to do so at some future time. I sincerely believe, however, that if I had kept a strict account of all these deliverances, instead of having to record thirty-nine cases, I should have been able to have recorded upwards of fifty. I regret now that I did not keep such a record. Every now and then I meet with persons who greet me as their deliverer. Two young men have done so within the last four months. And very pleasant to my mind it is to meet a fellow creature whom I have been the means, in the hands of a wonder-working Providence, of saving from a watery grave. But all the cases mentioned in the following chapter, except William Earnshaw and Captain Clegg, have been signed by living witnesses, and most of them were reported in the local newspapers, at the time of their occurrence. Many of these persons are still living; some of them I see almost daily, and they can speak for themselves. If I have made a mistake in spelling their names, or in relating the time when, or the circumstances under which, I saved them, I shall be glad to be corrected. And if I have offered an unkind reflection on any of my fellow creatures, or recorded a boastful sentence respecting what my fellow townsmen have been pleased to call my “deeds of daring,” I hope to be forgiven by God, whose I am and whom I serve. Finally: as a large circle of my friends are anxious to have a true record of all the lives I have saved, I shall be highly pleased if any whom I have rescued, but whose names I have not recorded, will send me a few lines that may add to the interest of this little book, should a second edition be called for.’