p. 140 | A HERO OF DUTY

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Mar 3, 1887

A HERO OF DUTY.

In the north of Holland, over an extent of three leagues, the country is not protected from the incursions of the sea by any natural barrier. Some two hundred years ago, the Dutch undertook the gigantic task of erecting enormous dykes of granite blocks and clay to resist the force of their terrible invader. Behind this shelter numerous villages arose, which flourish to the present day. Alkmond, in particular, which numbers 10,000 inhabitants, is built a little below the dyke, which is kept in constant repair by two hundred workmen under the direction of an engineer.

One afternoon in November, about a century ago, a furious wind was blowing from the northwest, increasing every moment. The engineer in charge was a young man, engaged to be married, whose friends and family lived in Amsterdam. He was to go to Amsterdam that very evening to join a great festival, long looked forward to and eagerly desired. His preparations were all made and he was in high spirits, ready to set out. Suddenly the sound of the rising wind struck upon his ear, and he remembered with a pang of anxiety that it was the time of the high tides. He thought of his dyke and of all that depended on it. It would be a dreadful disappointment not to go. But the dyke! His friends would be all expecting him, watching for him. What would they think? But the dyke! There was a fierce conflict between inclination and duty.

It is six o'clock. The sea is rising. But at seven he must set out for Amsterdam. Shall he go? His heart says, Yes; duty says, No. Again he looks at the sea, watches the rising storm, and decides to remain at his post.

He then runs to the dyke. It is a scene of the utmost confusion. His two hundred men are aghast, bewildered. The storm has become a hurricane. The supply of tow and mortar is exhausted! They are at their wits' end to know how to repair the breaches—how to defend the place against the terrible enemy which is every moment gaining upon them. But as soon as the young engineer appears a joyous cry bursts from every breast, "Here is the master! God be praised! Now all will be well!"

The master places each workman at his post and a desperate battle begins between man and the furious ocean. About half-past eleven there is a cry from the center—

"Help! help!"

"What is the matter?"

"Four stones carried away at a blow!"

"Where is that?"

"Here to the left."

The master does not lose a moment. He fastens a rope around his body; four workmen do the same; and four arms seize the ropes, while the five brave fellows throw themselves into the waves to repair the damage. The mad waves struggle with them, dash them about, blind them. No matter; they do their duty and then are hauled on land again.

But the cry, "Help! help!" soon rises from all parts.

"Stones!" cries one.

"There are no more."

"Mortar!"

"There is no more."

"Take off your clothes!" cries the master, tearing off his own; "stop the holes with them!"

What will men not do for a noble leader in a great cause? Cheerfully, without a murmur, straining every nerve, the gallant two hundred toil on, half-naked, exposed to all the fury of a November tempest.

It wants a quarter to midnight. A few inches more and the sea will have burst over the dyke and spread furiously over the defenseless country. To-morrow there will not be a living soul in all those flourishing villages. The clothes are all used up, but the danger increases; the tide will rise till midnight.

"Now, my men," said the clear, thrilling voice of the master, "we can do nothing more. On your knees, all of you, and let us each cry mightily to God for help."

And there, in the midnight darkness, on the dyke, which shook and trembled beneath the fury of the tempest, the brave two hundred knelt, lifting their hands and their hearts to Him who can say to the winds and waves, "Peace; be still." And as upon the sea of Galilee, so now he heard his children cry and delivered them in their distresses.

Meanwhile the people of Alkmond ate and drank, sang and danced, little thinking that there were but a few inches of mason work between them and death. Thousands of lives had been saved because one man had done his duty.—British Messenger.