A STORY OF HEROISM AND UNSELFISHNESS.

Tuapeka Times, Volume II, Issue 77, 31 July 1869, Page 6

A STORY OF HEROISM AND UNSELFISHNESS.

An English East Indiaman had run upon a reef or bar of sand a long way from the shore. The roaring, foaming seas were leaping upon the deck and stamping it to pieces. They had crushed the boats like so many eggshells, and the frantic passengers were shrieking in the tempest for help. The Dutch settlers saw the sight and heard the cry and rushed to the beach, apparently io see nothing but the waters swallow up the men and women clinging to the rigging of the broken vessel, for they had no boat to push out into the surge, and none within an hour's reach. The wreck would go to pieces before a raft could be made or anything floated from the shore. Human help there was none at firat sight; but at the sharpest crisis of the agony, a Dutch farmer galloped down to the sea on an Arabian mare, that was like another life to him j that had carried him through all the hazards of the wild world and its wilder beasts, and seemed to share her master's .intelligence, and to divine as well as. obey' his will. She swam rivers and waded morasseß with him °3 h?* back, arid now he spurred

through the crowd, and without a moment's pause, plunged into the sea with, a rope attached to her tail. The brare creature shrank not an instant from the fierce wrestle with the baying waves. She struck them down with her iron hoofs and breasted her way to the ship's side. It was but a moment's stay, and she was making for the shore, trailing a row of men and women clinging to the rope. The shouts of the crowd to receive them seemed to thrill her strained muscles Avith a new vigour ; and when her hoofs struck the earth, and she mounted on the beach and shook the salt water from her sides, she looked round upon the half-drowned beings she had. dragged to land and life. And it seemed to be given to her of the God of us all to know that she had done a good act. Her master patted her on the neck, as when they faced the lion together on the desert ; he patted her with eyes turned towards the ship. It was but a minute's pause. " Once more, my Jenny, darling, once more," and she turned her head and plunged again, without touch of spur, into the sea. Again she plunged into the surge, snorting over its briny crest. Once more she wheeled at the ship J s side and headed for the shore, trailing another row of men behind her. Many times her head dipped above her nostrils in a breaking wave ; many times she neighed as for help, as she struck out heavy with the long load dragging her down. She neared the land, but more slowly than before, and staggered up the beach with trembling limbs. The second long and desperate struggle through the sea had strained every nerve and muscle to its utmost tension, and she stood quivering, blowing and exhausted. Tkere wsve several human beings left behind on the crashing .broken hull; the darkness closing in upon them, and certain death with the darkness. The brave Dutchman heard the cry, and saw that harrowing sight. Could he try it again? "Jenny, my darling, Jenny, can you do it ?" and he put his arm around her neck fondly and tenderly. She then rubbed her head against his cheek, as if she said, " Master, if you will it, I'll try." He mounted her back, and without sense of spur or rein, she turned and walked straight into the foaming sea. Slowly, painfully, with weakening strokes, she made her way back to the ship, and once more headed for the shore with the last passenger clinging to the rope. With hands and voices uplifted stood the crowd on the beach, " O God of mercy and light, give the good creature strength for this once." Her head is lost for a moment. "It is the wave between. There ! she rises ! see their mane on that white cap. O heaven be merciful ! do you see her now " " No, but I see good Diedrich's hand above the water, reaching towards us. Now it is gone ! Oh, poor, good man ! he was thinking more of other mens' widows and fatherless children than his own, when he made his last ride into the sea." That was the act of a Dutch boer on the coast of Africa — of a man belonging to a class which many writers of history and romance overlook in seeking for deeds of heroism and chivalry, and for lofty sentiments of philantrophy and patriotism.

If ever some one fitted for the task should undertake to write the history of common working men and women of the world, deeds and dispositions of the same order and merit might be found to fill a hundred volumes.