boat and left yet again, seemingly immune to the cold water.
Minutes later he again returned with yet another man. This time he climbed inside after the man he’d helped. He fell to the bottom of the boat, breathing hard, and Elizabeth noticed he wore only a shirt and pants—no jacket, no gun and no boots or even socks! Surely he hadn’t fallen in accidentally at all. He’d taken a moment to half undress so he could swim better, having every intention of rescuing as many as he could.
He sat up and put his head in his hands, still breathing deeply, and there came another cry for help, somewhere in the fog. Clint stood up and dove off the small boat again.
“Clint!” Elizabeth screamed.
Moments later he returned with a third man. Both of them climbed into the boat.
“I hope…that’s all of them,” Clint panted.
“It’s a mighty fine thing you did, mister,” one of the crewmen told him.
“Where did you learn to swim so good?” one of those he’d rescued asked.
“Lake Michigan,” Clint answered, “a long time ago. I wasn’t so sure I’d have the strength I needed, it’s been so long.” He took several more deep breaths. “Good thing I got the last of you. I was about out of breath.” He coughed and glanced at Elizabeth. “You all right?”
“I think so. Oh, Clint, how can I thank you enough? First my handbag, now this—”
“Don’t worry about it,” he waved her off. He coughed again, then sneezed. “Let’s get back to the Damsel,” he told one of the crewmen, who began rowing.
The crewmen and others from the ship began shouting back and forth to each other, and in moments the Damsel, its back end sitting low in the water, came into sight. Another ship sat close by.
“She’s takin’ on water, but she’ll make it to the closest island,” one of the crewmen repeated. Men on board threw down ropes, and the crewmen rigged them to trollies on each end of the smaller boat, tossing the ends back up to the deck, where men began hauling the lifeboat upward in even jerks until it was high enough for the passengers to climb onto the deck.
Clint helped lift Elizabeth, and she couldn’t help being aware of his strength. Men on deck helped her the rest of the way up, then helped Clint climb on deck. Those he’d rescued were already telling others what Clint had done and what a good swimmer he was. There came a round of thank-yous, and Clint took Elizabeth’s arm.
“You’re coming to my cabin whether you want to or not. No arguments! You’re getting out of those wet clothes and under some covers, and then you’re going to pray you don’t get sick.”
The words were spoken with such command that Elizabeth didn’t even consider arguing. She had to half run to keep up with him as he directed her to the wooden steps that led to cabins on the second level. She lifted her soaked dress and managed to climb the stairs, feeling more and more weary with every step, worn out from her struggle, shivering fiercely from the cold. She followed Clint through a door.
“What about the steamer? Isn’t it sinking?” she asked Clint.
“They said we’d get to the closest island, and I believe them. Other ships will come along to help us. They’ll figure it out.” Clint closed the door. “Meantime, we’re on the second level. We can probably stay right here until help arrives.”
We? “I…what will I change into? What about my things below?”
“I’ll go get them for you. You get yourself undressed and under those covers.”
“But…I don’t have anything to wear!”
Looking rather disgusted, Clint dug through a duffel bag and threw a shirt at her. “Put this on and just get under the covers. I’ll be back.”
Still soaked and shivering himself, he left before Elizabeth could say a thing. She looked around the tiny room, lit by a lantern and warmed by a small, potbelly stove. She could see glowing embers through the partially open vent. She felt totally bewildered, full of questions, as she began undressing.
Realizing Clint could come back any time, Elizabeth hastily removed her dress, her many slips, her now-squishy high-button shoes, her stockings, and her camisole. Her money fell out. She gasped and quickly gathered it up, looking around for a place to put it, then turned and shoved it under the feather mattress of Clint’s narrow bed.
She then removed her wet drawers. “Oh, dear Lord!” she lamented. She was completely