The Blaine Fisherman Who Pulled Seven People Out of the Water and Never Told Anyone

Of all the water toilers and modest fisher folk of whom there are many about the International City, none are more unassuming or retiring in disposition than Hans Nielson, the humble Dane who plies his calling among the fisheries on the Gulf of Georgia. Hans owns a piece of land near Blaine, but says he knows how to plow the ocean better than the land, and so he sticks to the water; and Hans is a hero, and no less than seven people, if they still survive, owe their lives to his individual efforts, although he is but 24 years old now.

His father, a prosperous shipowner of old Copenhagen, brought Hans up for the sea, intending to make a navigator of him, and to this fact the young man says he owes his opportunities for life-saving. However that may be, the first chance which came his way was on a winter's day in his fourteenth year, on the skating ponds of Denmark.

Hans was passing along the road near a pond on which was a party of young men ranging from 16 to 25 years of age. One of the party had fallen through, and the others, panic-stricken, had lost their wits and were making but sorry efforts to rescue him. Hans heard the commotion and, running to the shore, took in the situation at a glance. Seizing some timbers which lay near, he placed them upon the rotten ice in such a way as to stand upon one while he pushed the other forward, and so reached the unlucky skater, who by this time was nearly perishing with cold while hanging to the broken ice. After considerable difficulty he finally succeeded in pulling the discouraged and benumbed fellow out, and went on his way without further ceremony or thanks.

About a year after, he having been in the meantime apprenticed on shipboard, the vessel on which he worked was lying in the river Neva. The captain, with his wife and little girl, had gone ashore in a small boat. While the father and mother were attending to some business they left the little one at play in the boat. She in some manner fell overboard, and Hans caught sight of her from the deck of the ship where he stood. Without a moment's hesitation he plunged in, and, being a strong swimmer, soon reached her; but from the moment he seized the child there was a vigorous struggle to save his life as well as hers, for she seized upon him with frenzy and nearly dragged him down. Battling to keep her from drowning them both, they floated down the stream nearly half a mile, and were finally rescued by people from a war vessel lying in the stream. Both were nearly perishing when taken from the water, but to show his appreciation of the boy's bravery the captain set him to work three hours afterward, although he was very sick and hardly able to stand.

Later his father sent him to an English port to study navigation, and from there he shipped as quartermaster for Rio. The ship took fire and burned at sea; the crew took to open boats and were picked up and carried to the Madeira islands, whence our friend sailed again for Rio. There he took the yellow fever, and after passing through that dread scourge with his life he shipped for New York, and thence via the Cape of Good Hope to Japan. By a slight accident to the ship they were obliged to run into Cape Town for repairs, but they finally reached Yokohama, and then crossed the Pacific to Vancouver, where Hans bade adieu to his ship one evening, and his next haven was Blaine, where he has since resided, excepting for an occasional trip to other places about the Sound.

The next life-saving adventure occurred in King county in November. There had been heavy snows in the mountains, and, as is often the case, the storms were followed immediately by the melting chinook wind, which sent the snow down in a torrent of water. Green river was rising, and its boiling surface covered with masses of dangerous drift. Archie White, a lad of 10 or 11 years, fell from a log into the swift flowing stream and was drowning. Hans Nielson happened to be near, and without an instant's hesitation plunged into the ice water to the rescue. Then the battle began — a fight with the elements to avoid the masses of floating driftwood, and a struggle with the strong, healthy boy who threatened to drag them both down. Down the hissing stream they fought, each effort appearing as though it might be the last; now using all his power to avoid a mass of treacherous drift or a tottering, whirling log, now struggling with the terrified boy, who seemed determined to drag him down. Hope was almost gone, the battle seemed almost lost, when, after floating a mile, a friendly sand bar reached up a rescuing arm far out into the boiling stream and Hans felt his feet touch ground. He struggled to shore with his now lifeless burden, nearly exhausted himself. It was only the work of a few hours, however, to make them both as good as new.

Number four was a peculiar and rather amusing case. It was at Point Roberts. The man — we will not give his name — was very drunk, and with the water up to his chin. The tide was coming in and he was about to be engulfed when Hans saw his predicament and went out to his rescue. This would have been a very simple matter had the man not been sober enough to fight, but when his rescuer appeared he vigorously resisted every effort to unfasten him from the piling which he was using as a means of saving himself. As Hans expressed it, he had to whip the man before he could save him, but he finally succeeded in getting him ashore, and when the fellow was sober he was quite thankful that he had not succeeded in making an anchor of himself.

Last summer a market gardener by the name of Strauch drove into Blaine on one of his semi-weekly trips, his wagon loaded with vegetables. Having an errand at one of the docks, he drove out on the long wharf, which has no protecting railing. While driving along near the edge the horse became unmanageable and backed off into the brine, carrying with it the gardener's little daughter. Hans, who was then running a ferry between Blaine and the opposite shore, saw the accident, and would have easily rescued the little girl, but Strauch became very much excited and, although he could not form a stroke, leaped into the water with the idea of somehow saving his child. Hans was there in a moment, but had quite a struggle to save both the drowning people, which he did, although the father was almost unmanageable. The horse was drowned, but after recovering from his excitement Mr. Strauch was thankful that it was no worse.

The channel between Blaine and the opposite shore is only 1,000 feet in width, but sometimes when the swell from the gulf comes rolling in, accompanied by a strong wind, quite a nasty little sea for skiffs is worked up. On such a day last January a certain young man attempted to make the passage in a little boat, but would never have seen either shore again — for he was thrown out of his frail craft — had not some one been near to rescue. Hans Nielson saw the boat plunge into a deep trough of the sea and then saw it leap upon a crest empty. It was a dangerous task, but springing into another boat he succeeded in fishing the helpless man from the waves, not much the worse for his wetting.

This was the seventh life saved by him inside of ten years, five in America and two in his native land, which is a pretty good record for one whose name has not been recorded among the world's heroes. Hans Nielson is 24 years old, of rather slender frame, of medium height and not a powerful man. He never cares to talk much about his own deeds unless questioned, and then describes them as events only incidental to the life of a water toiler. It would seem to a disinterested observer, however, that it would be fitting for the life-saving department of the government in some manner to recognize our Blaine hero, along with others whose deeds of bravery have been rewarded.