Clayton, a wholesale dry-goods merchant,
immensely rich, whom I knew by sight, though I had never spoken to
him. It was one Thursday morning--I remember even the day of the
week--when the boat was unusually full. Mr. Clayton was leaning
against the side-railing talking to a friend, when all at once the
railing gave way, and he fell backward into the water, which
immediately swallowed him up."
"Merciful man!" ejaculated Aunt Deborah, intensely interested. "Go
on, Ferdinand."
"Of course there was a scene of confusion and excitement," continued
Ferdinand, dramatically. 'Man overboard! Who will save him?' said
more than one. 'I will,' I exclaimed, and in an instant I had sprang
over the railing into the boiling current."
"Weren't you frightened to death?" asked the old lady. "Could you
swim?"
"Of course I could. More than once I have swum all the way from New
York to Brooklyn. I caught Mr. Clayton by the collar, as he was
sinking for the third time, and shouted to a boatman near by to come
to my help. Well, there isn't much more to tell. We were taken on
board the boat, and rowed to shore. Mr. Clayton recovered his senses
so far as to realize that I had saved his life.
"'What is your name, young man?' he asked, grasping my hand.
"'Ferdinand B. Kensington,' I answered modestly.
"'You have saved my life,' he said warmly.
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