One dark midnight, as the boat on which he was employed was leaving one
of those long reaches of slackwater which abound in the Ohio and
Pennsylvania Canal, he was called up to take his turn at the bow.
Tumbling out of bed, his eyes heavy with sleep, he took his stand on the
narrow platform below the bow-deck, and began uncoiling a rope to steady
the boat through a lock it was approaching. Slowly and sleepily he
unwound it, till it knotted, and caught in a narrow cleft in the edge of
the deck. He gave it a sudden pull, but it held fast; then another and a
stronger pull, and it gave way, but sent him over the bow into the
water. Down he went into the dark night and the still darker river; and
the boat glided on to bury him among the fishes. No human help was near.
God only could save him, and He only by a miracle. So the boy thought,
as he went down saying the prayer his mother had taught him.
Instinctively clutching the rope, he sunk below the surface; but then it
tightened in his grasp, and held firmly. Seizing it hand over hand, he
drew himself up on deck, and was again a live boy among the living.
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