THE CKOWXIXG FEAT. 271 



wi' my feet against the bottom, and wi' me, choosing 1 my time, up we a' came. My avms 

 were grippit; but I could strike oot wi' my feet and before ever we reached the surface, 

 I lashed oot like a deevil, for the quay. Aweel, sirr, wi' all I could do, we diclna wend 

 abune a yard, or may be a yard and a hauf and doone they carried me like leed. I 

 strauchtened myself as we sank, and I grunded. The lave were a' roond me like a fon.* 

 I bides my time, and, when they are inclining- upward I strikes fra the grand; an' this 

 time, maur slanting towards the quay. That helpit us, and in a dozen violent strokes we 

 maybe gained twa yards this time. Then doon like leed. Plays the same game again, up, and 

 doon again. And noo, sirr, there was something that turned sair against us ; but then there 

 was something for us, to bollance it. It was against us that they had swallowed their pint o' 

 water by this time, and were nae sae buoyant ; it was for us that the water was shallower noo, 

 maybe not more than twa feet ower head. This wad droon us as weel as twanty ; but wi' nae 

 mair nor twa feet water abune us I could spring up fra the grim by mere force; for the grim gies 

 ye an awfu' poower for a foot or twa. Sae noo I'm nae suner doon than up again, and still 

 creeping for the quay, and the water aye a wee bit shallower. The next news is, I get sair 

 spent, and that was bad ; but to bollance that,, some folk on the quay gat rapes and boat-hooks, 

 and pickit off ane or twa that was the nearest; and now ilka time I cam' up, they pickit ane off, 

 and that lightened my burden ; and bymby I drave a couple into shallow water mysel', wi' my 

 feet. When I was in seven fut water mysel', and fewer folk handing me doon, I got to be 

 maister, and shovit ane, and pu'd anither in, till we landed the whole saxteen or seventeen. 

 But my wark was na' done, for I kennsd there were mair in the river. I saw the last o' my 

 ain band safe, and then oot into the Clyde, wherever I heerd cries, and sune I fund twa lasses 

 skirling, takes 'em by their lang hair, and tows them to the quay in a minute. Just 

 as I'm landing thir f twa, I hear a cry in the vara middle of the river, and in I splash. It 

 was a strapping lass they caed her Elizabeth Whitelaw. ' C'way, ye lang daftie,' says I, and 

 begins to tow her. Lo an' behold, I'm grippit wi' a man under the water. It was her 

 sweetheairt. She was handing him doon. The hizzy was a' reicht, but she was drooning the 

 lad; pairts these J twa lovers for their gude and taks 'em ashore, one in each hand. Awed, 

 sirr, I saved just ane mair, and then I plunged in and sairched, but there was nae mair to be 

 seen noo: three puir lasses were drooned, but I didna ken that at the time. And noo I'll 

 tell ye a farce. I'm seized wi' a faintness, and mak's for the shore. But I gat weaker, and 

 dazed-like, and the lights o' Glasgee begins to flecker afore my een: and, thinks I, ' I'll no see 

 ye again; I'm done this time.' It was all I could do for the bare life, to drift to the 

 hinder part of the quay. I hadna the power to draw mysel' oot. I just grippit 

 the quay and sobbit. The folk were a' busy wi' them I had saved; nane o' them 

 noticed me, and I would ha' been drooned that nicht : but wha d'ye think saved me, 

 that had saved sae many ? an auld decrepit man : haw ! haw ! haw ! He had a 

 hookit stick, and gied me the handle, and towed me along the quay into shallow water, and I 

 gat oot, wi' his help, and swooned deed away. I'm tauld I lay there negleckit awhile; 

 but they fand me at last, and then I had fifty nurses for ane." 



The story of the cause of this hero's blindness is very sad. He had divod in 



* Fan. T These. % Those. 



