University of Virginia Library

15. THE RIGHT USE OF SILVER.

[From the New York Commercial Advertiser, April 1, 1837.]

Our sheet is not half large enough to contain all that we should
like to put in it every day, and were it twice as large as it is,
still we should have to struggle daily with the inconveniences
of too narrow limits—desires expanding, as in most other matters,
with the means of giving them indulgence. Therefore
the appropriation of a column to any one subject, is at all times
a trial of our virtue. But we would rather exclude a column
of our own choicest handiwork, than omit the subjoined report
of certain doings at Hempstead, on Saturday the 25th
ultimo; and the rather for it has not been forced upon us by
a request for publication, but fallen accidentally into our hands,
without even a hint of its existence, or of the proceedings
which it describes. We copy it from the Long Island Star,
in which we discovered it yesterday by the merest chance,
while looking over the outside columns. The presentation
address is one of the happiest we have ever read, and the

reply perfect—exactly what might have been expected from
the lips of the brave old man who uttered it.

On Saturday last a peculiarly interesting scene was presented
at Hempstead, in Queens county. A committee of
gentlemen from the fifth ward, New York, appointed a meeting
with Raynor R. Smith, at the Hotel of Mr. Oliver Conklin
for the purpose of presenting him a token of regard from
the citizens of that ward.

At four o'clock in the afternoon, the gentlemen from New
York arrived, and the presentation took place in the presence
of a number of people. The hardy mariner received the
compliments bestowed upon him with much modesty, and
after the public ceremonies were over, withdrew into a
private room with a few friends, where hilarity warmed
into confidence, and he was led to recount a number of
the “hair-breadth scapes” which form part of the business
of the life of a wrecker at Rockaway. The mode in which
he related the rescue of Capt. Nathan Holdredge,—the
individual referred to in the address below—from the jaws of
death, made a vivid impression upon all present. Nature and
truth gave power of language beyond the refinements of the
pen.

After a cheerful interview of two or three hours, the company
separated with warm expressions of mutual regard

We give below the address of William P. Hawes,
Esq., on presenting the cup, together with Mr. Smith's
reply.

Address of W. P. Hawes.

Mr. Raynor R. Smith.—We are a committee, appointed by
the citizens of the fifth ward of the city of New York, to discharge
the difficult task of expressing to you their admiration of

your chivalrous attempt to rescue the passengers and crew of
the barque Mexico, lately stranded on the adjacent beach,
and to ask your acceptance of a trifling token of their regard
for your intrepidity. You, sir, cannot have forgotten
the terrors of that distressful wreck, nor is it possible for us
not to remember, how nobly you and your gallant associates
adorned humanity, and how well you redeemed our coast
from the ignominy of inhospitality. Having waited, in vain,
for the recognition of your services in a more general and
distinguished manner, we have felt that we owe it to our
city—to the credit of our country—so far as in our power
lies, to express to you the sentiments we entertain of your
perilous adventure. We cannot forget the morning of that
eventful day, when the weary Mexico, with an insufficient
and mutinous crew, doomed to unavoidable destruction, poured
out her signal guns of distress among the breakers of Long
Island—when mothers and sisters, and children and rough
sailors stretched imploring hands to the shore, and screamed
unavailing prayers to Him who rules the storm; when, as
if to turn into mockery the attempt to save the predestined
ship, He gave violence to the winds and fury to the waves,
and builded between the vessel and the shore a wall of
floating ice, which scarce even hope itself could struggle to
surmount. Who that saw, or has heard, can ever forget
the scene—The lingering death of a hundred martyrs to
cold, and hunger, and hope disappointed—freezing in the
sight of comfortable hearths—starving in the view of abundance—despairing
in the midst of promise! I cannot attempt
to paint a description of that day and night of horror!

It was amid the terrors of such a scene, when the boldest
and the skilfullest stood upon the beach in doubt, and dismay,
and awe, that risking everything but honor, and the praise
of the humane, your sole adventurous skiff struggled through
the resisting ice, and climbed the overwhelming mountains
of surf, and sought to bring salvation to the perishing wretches
who ought to have expected rather to receive you as a fellow
sufferer, rather than to welcome you as a saviour.
What Heaven denied to their prayers, it seemed willing
to grant to your courage. Eight souls live to pray for the
future reward of your exertions. The rest cold death claimed
for his portion. Had it been possible that they might have
been saved, had it been permitted that another one should
be rescued, we know that you were the brave deliverer who
would have plunged into the gulph for his redemption. The
city knows the fact—the commercial and christian world applaud
the heroism of your endeavors.

Such conduct has in other countries, gained for less daring
heroes the reward of civic crowns and national honors. He
who saved the life of a Roman was honored with a seat
next to the senate, and public assemblies when he entered,
rose to do him reverence. These rewards we cannot give
you. But such as your fellow countrymen can give, of gratitude
to one who has rendered honor to the state, such we
bestow. These we yield—these we bring in tribute. That
your children, and the children of your brave boys, may not
complain that Americans cannot appreciate acts of devotion,
and danger, and that your distant posterity may have preserved
among them the glorious example of their ancestor, we have

caused a skilful artist to engrave upon silver a faint sketch
of your achievement. Upon this cup, which I now tender
for your acceptance, is embossed the story of the Mexico,
and the glory of Raynor R. Smith. It is but a sketch, for
the labors of the artist, however successful, can imitate only
the prominent features of the scene. Here, it is true, lies
the ill fated vessel groaning in the deep sand—the freezing
water rushing through her broken timbers, and over her
shattered spars, and her shrouds swinging with hope-abandoned
wretches. Here has the graver pictured your wished-for
boat, and we can see the steady helm, and the strong
nerved sinewy pull of the oars that bear her through the
surge. But the howling storm—the viewless wind bearing
upon its wings the chill of death—the cries of the victims
—your own encouraging shout of comfort, giving strength
and confidence to your crew—what mortal could engrave
them? Imagination must supply what human art cannot
pretend to depict.

In tendering to you, sir, this token of our regard, we do
not expect greatly to add to your honor, nor to increase
the esteem in which you must be held by every man
who appreciates virtuous heroism. It is, perhaps, more as
a relief to our own hearts, than as a sufficient tribute to
your merits, that we bring our offering. Justice to ourselves
requires us, nevertheless, to say it is not a mere impulse,
not an emotion springing from the first impression produced
by the performance of a good action, that has prompted this
expression of our feelings. This memorial has been considered.
The worthiness of your conduct has been weighed.
It is from deliberate justice, as well as from glowing admiration,
that our tribute springs.

We cannot forbear upon this occasion, to add an expression

of our feeling toward your associates in the enterprise
which we celebrate, and to render a just acknowledgment
to the humanity and kindness of the people of Hempstead.
In many foreign lands, such hospitalities to the saved, and
such pious solemnities to the lost, would never have been
rendered. The sailor poet of old England, from whose experience
I have already quoted, speaks of

It is a subject of painful regret that even some parts of our
own shores have not been free from the barbarities of the
Picaroon. But the coast of Long Island is happily purged
from the disgrace. The home-seeking packet ship. and the
storm-beaten merchantman, hereafter looking upon the hills
of Long Island, will bear in comfortable remembrance as they
bear away from its lee shore, that should all human endeavors
fail, and they be driven upon the strand, you and your
good example live here, and the Long Islanders are charitable
and kind. The merchants of the great commercial emporium
may perhaps have cause to attribute it to the humanity
of the inhabitants of the sea side, more than to the activity of
our pilots, that commerce shall continue to spread her multitudinous
sails toward the harbor of New York.

Permit me, now, in conclusion, to express the gratification
which I personally feel in being the organ of expression of
the sentiments of our constituents. None can know better
than I know, how well this tribute is bestowed. I have had
the enjoyment of your acquaintance for many years and have
witnessed more than one instance of your skill, and courage.
I have partaken of your hospitality in the islands of the sea,
and have had good occasion to commend the staunchness of

your surf boat. But there lives a worthy citizen who will
commend, more than I know how to do, the intrepidity which
is the theme of our present praise. Years since, at the imminent
peril of your own life, you rescued Captain Nathan
Holdredge from the surf, and recalled him from the jaws of
death back to grateful life For him and for all the other
citizens whom you have saved to the republic, we thank you.
And we pray that your valuable life may long be spared, if
not to act in future cases of distress, to teach and encourage
your sons and grandsons how to win esteem on earth, and a
worthy welcome into Heaven.

REPLY OF RAYNOR R. SMITH.

Gentlemen—I thank you, I sincerely thank you for your
gift. In return for it I can only say that should a similar
wreck or any other wreck ever again occur on our shores, I
shall endeavor to show that I deserve it. I shall preserve
your gift. I shall value it above all price—it shall remain
with me while I live, and when I die it shall not go out of my
family, if I can help it.

DESCRIPTION OF THE CUP.

The cup bears on the one side a device of the ship Mexico
imbedded in the sand, with the waves breaking over her.
Her hapless crew is seen stretching out their imploring
hands. A boat is making its way to them. A few figures
stand upon the beach, surrounded by masses of ice, which
show the severity of the season, and the peril of the undertaking.

The reverse side bears the following inscription:

REWARD OF MERIT.

Presented to Raynor R. Smith, of Hempstead South, L. I.

by a number of his fellow citizens of the Fifth Ward, as a
token of regard for his noble daring, performed at the peril of
his life, in saving the eight persons from the wreck of the
fated Ship Mexico, on the morning of January 2d, 1837.

NEW YORK.

Committee.—Joseph Meeks, John Horspool, Lawrence
Ackerman, William Kelley, Benjamin Ringgold, William P.
Hawes.