the
occurrence." I ventured.
"He never took his hands from his pockets!" she cried.
Her eyes sparkled as I nodded confirmation.
"I knew it! It's his way. I've seen it so often. I remember when I was
twelve years old--mother was alone--we were running into San Francisco.
It was in the _Dixie_, a ship almost as big as this. There was a strong
fair wind blowing, and father did not take a tug. We sailed right
through the Golden Gate and up the San Francisco water-front. There was
a swift flood tide, too; and the men, both watches, were taking in sail
as fast as they could.
"Now the fault was the steamboat captain's. He miscalculated our speed
and tried to cross our bow. Then came the collision, and the _Dixie's_
bow cut through that steamboat, cabin and hull. There were hundreds of
passengers, men, women, and children. Father never took his hands from
his pockets. He sent the mate for'ard to superintend rescuing the
passengers, who were already climbing on to our bowsprit and forecastle-
head, and in a voice no different from what he'd use to ask some one to
pass the butter he told the second mate to set all sail. And he told him
which sails to begin with."
"But why set more sails?" I interrupted.
"Because he could see the situation. Don't you see, the steamboat was
cut wide open. All that kept her from sinking instantly was the bow of
the _Dixie_ jammed into her side. By setting more sail and keeping
before the wind, he continued to keep the bow of the _Dixie_ jammed.
"I was terribly frightened. People who had sprung or fallen overboard
were drowning on each side of us, right in my sight, as we sailed along
up the water-front. But when I looked at father, there he was, just as I
had always known him, hands in pockets, walking slowly up and down, now
giving an order to the wheel--you see, he had to direct the _Dixie's_
course through all the shipping--now watching the passengers swarming
over our bow and along our deck, now looking ahead to see his way through
the ships at anchor. Sometimes he did glance at the poor, drowning ones,
but he was not concerned with them.
"Of course, there were numbers drowned, but by keeping his hands in his
pockets and his head cool he saved hundreds of lives. Not until the last
person was off the steamboat--he sent men aboard to make sure--did he
take off the press of sail. And the steamboat sank at once."
She ceased, and looked at me with shining eyes
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