Service to others — ‘You never know who you may save’
Elder Jacob de Jager
“I would like to go back in thought to my native Holland where six generations of my father’s ancestors lived in the little village of Scheveningen at the seashore. They were fishermen or had other related vocations, like fishing-boat builders, sailmakers, or fishing net repairmen. Many of them were also involved in the voluntary but hazardous talk of lifesaving. These were stouthearted, experienced men who were always ready to man the rowboats to go on a rescue mission. With every westerly gale that blew, some fishing boats ran into difficulties, and many times the sailors had to cling to the rigging of their stricken ships in a desperate fight to escape inevitable drowning. Year after year the sea claimed her victims.
“On one occasion during a severe storm, a ship was in distress, and a rowboat went out to rescue the crew of the fishing boat. The waves were enormous, and each of the men at the oars had to give all his strength and energy to reach the unfortunate sailors in the grim darkness of the night and the heavy rainstorm. The trip to the wrecked ship was successful, but the rowboat was too small to take the whole crew back to safety.. One man had to stay behind on the disabled vessel because there simply was no room for him; the risk that the rescue boat would capsize was too great. When the rescuers made it back to the beach, hundreds of people were waiting for them with torches to guide them to safety in the dreary night. The same rescue crew could not make the second trip because they were exhausted from their fight with the rain, the wind, and the waves.
“The local captain of the rescue crew asked for volunteers to make a second trip. Among those who stepped forward without hesitation was as 19-year old youth by the name of Hans. With his mother, he had come to the beach to watch the rescue operation. When Hans stepped forward, his mother panicked and said, “Hans, please don’t go! Your father died at sea when you were four years old and your older brother, Peter, has been reported missing at sea for more than three months now. You are the only son left to me!” But Hans said, ‘Mother, I feel I have to do it. It is my duty.’ The mother wept and paced the beach as Hans boarded the rowboat, and rowed powerfully into the night. After more than an hour, the rowboat came into sight again. When the rescuers were close enough that the captain of the rescuers could shout to them, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called vigorously against the storm, “Did you save the stranded man?” Hans rose from his rowing bench, and he shouted back, “Yes! And tell my mother that the man we just saved is her lost son, Peter!”
The Ensign, November 1976, page 56.
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