A Brave Pilot

 •  2 min. read  •  grade level: 4
 
In a cemetery in Buffalo, N. Y., there is a magnificent marble monument with the inscription in letters of gold:
To the Pilot, John Maynard,
from
The grateful passengers of the "Swallow."
"He died for us."
John Maynard was a pilot on a steamer plying between Buffalo and Detroit. One beautiful day in summer, the boat was loaded with passengers. Suddenly the terrible cry of "Fire! Fire!" was heard. Soon everybody became aware of volumes of smoke arising from the hold. All hands rushed on deck, and torrents of water were soon pouring on the flames; but to no purpose. The cargo of tar had caught fire and was blazing fiercely.
The passengers crowded around the pilot. "How far are we from Buffalo?" they asked.
"A mile and a half," was the reply.
"How long will it take to make it?"
"At the rate we are going, about three quarters of an hour. But look, the smoke is getting worse. Stay in the front of the boat, if you want to save your lives."
They all rushed to the bow, passengers, crew, men, women, and children. The after-part of the boat disappeared amid the smoke and fire which came whirling upwards.
"John Maynard!" shouted the captain through his megaphone.
"Aye, aye, sir, what's the course?"
"East south east," rang the answer.
The fire grew worse and worse, but the shore was nearer now. "John Maynard!' the captain called again.
"Aye, aye, sir," came the answer through the raging flames and smoke.
"Can you hold 'on for five minutes more?" shouted the captain.
"I'll hold on, with the help of God." But those were the last words he was heard to utter. At that moment the brave man's hair and beard were burning and his clothes were on fire. His right hand was a cinder, but his left still held the tiller fast and guided the boat to safety.
All got ashore. Only John Maynard was dead.
The crew, the passengers and many of the people of Buffalo followed the body to its last resting place. Many tears have been shed on that tomb by those who lived because he had died; and the golden letters on the black marble were the expression of full and grateful hearts.
"He died for us."
And you, who read these lines, have you ever given a thought to Him who died on Calvary? He was insulted by men, forsaken by all, even by God Himself! Have you realized that the death of the Lord Jesus Christ was your deliverance, your salvation? And have you written, not in letters of gold on a tomb, but in burning letters on the tablet of your heart:
"He died for me"?