HE DIED FOR ME
The “Swallow” was making her usual crossing of Lake Erie in North America. Besides a number of passengers on her decks she carried a large cargo of tar in her hold. Half way across the lake the captain noticed smoke beginning to come from the hold. “Simpson,” he ordered the mate, “Go below and see what the matter is.” Simpson came up with his face as pale as ashes. “Captain,” he explained, “the ship is on fire!” The awful cry of “Fire! Fire!” was heard as billows of smoke poured from the now fiercely burning tar. All hands rushed on deck and torrents of water were poured on, but to no avail. The panic-stricken passengers were told to get to the bow as quickly as possible while the old pilot, John Maynard, steered the vessel towards the port of Buffalo. The shore was in sight but the fire grew worse and worse. Would they make the shore in time? “John Maynard!” shouted the captain to the helmsman. “Yes sir,” came the answer through the flames and smoke. “Can you hold on for five minutes more?” “I’ll hold on with the help of God, sir!” Those were the last words he ever said. The boat reached safety and the shore-based fire fighters controlled the blaze, but the brave pilot was terribly burned. His right hand had been burnt so much he had ceased to use it, but with his left hand he had held the helm fast and thus guided the boat to the wharf.
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