A Leap for Life or Death

A Leap for Life or Death
By James H. Martineau

It was in the spring of 1851 that the writer, residing in the newly established settlement of Parowan-or Little Salt Lake as it was commonly styled- conceived the idea of ascending a mountain peak not fa5r away to view the surrounding country. Such an enterprise had always been to him a delight, but in the trip of which we now speak, he narrowly missed a tragic termination.

Young and thoughtless, he took no water with him upon this expedition, and after a toilsome climb of about five miles up a long mountain ridge, over jutting rocks and rugged cliffs, found himself at length on the summit, triumphant and delighted, but perspiring at every pore, and suffering much from thirst, which was greatly aggravated by breathing through his open mouth as he toiled and panted up the weary ascent.

Later on he learned the importance of keeping his mouth closed under such circumstances, thereby preventing its becoming so dry and parched. When deprived of water, a man can do without it three times as long, if he will breathe only through the nose, keep his mouth shut, and abstain from talking. But here he was - very thirsty - upon a high mountain - and no water within miles.

For a while he enjoyed the grand but desolate view, extending from Mount Baldy in the distant north to the dim ranges in the west and south, with the newly planted fort at his feet, and the Little Salt Lake eight or ten miles distant – the very embodiment of desolation, as it lay stagnant and sullen, surrounded by marshy shores of glistening white slat in which no plant can live.

But the day waned, and he must descend. To avoid the long, roundabout route by which he had reached the summit, the thought occurred that it would be better to take a short cut directly down the mountain side. So he entered a slight ravine, whose rocky bottom, bare of all vegetation, would afford an easy pathway. Swiftly he descended, every few yards jumping down rocky steps of a few feet, pleased to see how quickly he was reaching the foot of the mountain. By this time the little gulch had grown to be quite a big one, with walls upon each side too high and too steep to be climbed. His downward leaps too, became more frequent and of greater depth - but this was well – he would sooner reach the bottom.

At length a drop of nine or ten feet landed him upon a shelf or rocky platform about ten feet broad, shut in on each side by high perpendicular walls. Advancing towards the edge he was horrified to see that his next drop – if he chose to make it – would be into a fearful abyss. It was a sheer descent of over 100 feet. Of course he would go back a little and take another route. Turning back to the rock he had only now descended, he tried to climb it, but to his dismay he could not. Although but a few feet higher than his head, the face of the rock was very smooth and had no angles or projections by the aid of which he night ascend.

For a long while he strove desperately to climb the rock; he took off his shoes hoping that his bare feet might give him sufficient hold upon the rock to make his way. In vain. His utmost endeavors raised him not more than one or two feet – then down he slid. Still he continued, trying first one place, and then another, but all to no purpose. Must he die here when it seemed as if he could almost grasp the top by an upward spring, and once upon its top be safe? It seemed past belief – but it was true! It was impossible to return; and as he began to more fully realize his predicament and evident inability to escape, who may realize his feelings? He knew he was where no man had ever been and lived to tell the story; he was where no one would ever think to look for him; he was where a call for help could be heard by no living soul!

Only the ravens that slowly circled above his head, seemed to be concerned in his future fate.

He lay flat upon the rock and crawled carefully forward to look below, but a momentary glance filled him with dread no words can tell. Instinctively he shrank backward, trembling as with an ague. Again he looked down; rough, ragged rocks were there, and must be his lonely bed until the resurrection morn! A large pine tree stood in the canyon below, a little distance from the foot of the precipice upon whose side he hung so high in the air, but its feathery top was far below his level – a full 25 or 30 feet.

Of all this he assured himself, by several trembling downward glances, for he could endure the sight only for a moment. What must he do? Could he do anything? Must he die a lingering death by starvation upon the little ledge where he now stood – or should he end all by a plunge to the cruel rocks below that uplifted their jagged arms as if impatient to receive him?

How wondrous is human thought! With what lightning speed may thought fly through the mind! It has been said that in the few moments passed in drowning, a man’s whole life – even trivial things – will pass before his mental vision; and that what he thinks in a minute would require hours in the telling. So now a thousand thoughts flashed through his mind. Suppose he were to jump – could he then be sure of instant death! He might be crushed and mangled, and still live for a time in torment – perhaps be torn by wild beasts while still alive; he might – oh! Numberless were the horrid thoughts that surged tempestuously through his brain. His friends, his orphaned sisters far away, waiting for years in vain for tidings from their only brother!

But he must be cool – he must think; in this dire strait he needs the use of every faculty, and he must be calm. While he was upon the mountain summit, being fond of sketching, he had made a hasty view of the scenery spread about him – the fort, the lake, and the distant mountain ranges. He thought of this, and proceeded to sketch the view before him. It was indeed a scene worthy the pencil of a better artist - of a master. The canyon, several hundred feet in depth, was walled upon its further side by a precipice along whose front stood a row of mighty monolithic columns, each more than a hundred feet in height, the spaces between, worn and seamed and hollowed out by the frosts and tempests of untold centuries. Thus they stood- mighty and majestic, as if hewn by Titanic hands – sentries guarding the portals to the dark abode of the gnomes and vengeful spirits of the mountains. In spite of his desperate case he could not repress a feeling of rapturous awe as he looked upon a scene of such surpassing grandeur, and for a time lost a sense of his imminent danger as he drew his little sketch.

Probably an hour was thus occupied in making his drawing which his wife – then to him unknown – still treasures as a sacred memento. His whole attention had been given to the work, and when done, his mind was clear and calm as today it is after the lapse of so many years. Carefully he considered his position, and plainly saw he must do one of two things – climb the rock behind him, or face a fearful death.

Again, with an energy born of despair, he sought to reach the ledge above him, which seemed so near and yet so far – so infinitely far above his up stretched hands. In vain! And most unwillingly he admitted the fearful truth.

Three alternatives were now presented:-to die where he was of starvation; to throw himself upon the rocks below, and so end all quickly and surely; or attempt to leap into the top of the pine which stood so far below, with almost a certainty of being impaled or torn in pieces upon its unyielding branches, and thus to meet a fearful lingering death. But could he leap far enough out to reach the tree? Another trembling, downward glance made him doubt. The pine stood so far from the precipice, it seemed that should he do his best he could only brush the outward tips of its branches in his swift descent, and fall at last upon the hungry, waiting rocks.

Reader, think what it is to be compelled to choose the time and manner of your death – a fearful, cruel death at best. Alone! Not a friend to say good-bye as you leave this bright world, to enter that one, so mysterious – so unknown! We have been taught something concerning it; we have a faith, a belief, but as to a positive knowledge – who has gained it? Who has visited that unknown clime and returned again to tell us its secrets? To know these things, we must ourselves experience the change.

How all these thoughts and many more, spread through his mind! But he must decide, and quickly too. If he hesitate too long, hunger and thirst will so weaken him that he cannot make the desperate leap, even should he bring his courage to the point; if he must – oh what dread significance does that word must sometimes possess! – The sooner the better. If he misses the tree top it is but death after all; and death comes to all sooner or later. What matters it if it come today or tomorrow, or a year hence? Besides, he may reach the tree in safety; he may be able to seize a limb! But if he does, can he hold to it with grasp powerful enough to assist his descent, falling so far as he must, and so swiftly? No matter; he must!

With nerves at highest tension he plants himself at the base of his fatal rock to get as much run as possible – only four steps at best. He starts, but at the third step the bottom of the abyss appears in view, and upon the instant his knees lose all strength, and he is scarcely able to totter back to the rock to compose himself.

Let not the reader think him easily shaken or hysterical. Not so. From his boyhood he was accustomed to being in dangerous positions, nor was he ever subject to dizziness, but never before had he been in so fearful a position as this. Since that day he has many times faced death, sometimes when he felt assured that each breath would be his last. But then he had company; there was excitement, as with a soldier in battle who falls and scarcely knows he is struck.

But it must be! He must leap, even should it be into eternity – and again he essays it – but in vain! When that dreadful depth comes in view, his strength leaves him in spite of his will. He could not help it. Then when all hope seemed failed did his guardian angel come to his aid, breathing faith to his sinking soul and renewing his hope. He remembered a prediction upon his head, made long before by a silvery haired old man – a prediction as yet unfulfilled. He remembered, too, the promise in the Holy Scriptures – “Ask and ye shall receive.” Faith, though weak and timid, sprang up in his heart and quickly grew into a living power. He knelt and asked for strength to make the leap, for strength to leap out far enough to reach the tree-top; and that he might be able to seize a limb and stay his fall. The Father in His mercy heard his prayer.

He rose to make a last attempt. And now, as he rushed at the dizzy brink, his sinews seemed of steel- his limbs full of strength – all fear and weakness fled. He shot far out into the empty air – and immense leap – and swiftly descending fell into the center of the pine!

How it all happened he never knew, for in his downward flight he was for the time unconscious of motion, perception, or of trying to see or grasp at anything; but suddenly he realized that he was safe! He found himself holding with each hand a separate limb with a grasp like that of death. Not a scratch nor a bruise upon him – not a rent in his clothing!

Was not this verily a miracle? He so esteemed it then, and all these years have not changed his belief. Some will say there are no miracles; that what we term miracles are simply the result of natural or spiritual forces whose laws are to us unknown. What matter? Nothing can alter the belief of the writer that in this case a power higher than that of mortality gave strength for the prodigious leap, and courage to his soul; guided his curving pathway in mid air to a spot of safety; directed his hands to and gave him hold of those unseen branches of the pine, and strength to retain his hold and stay his swift descent. In a word he believes the God of heaven hear and answered his prayer. Why should He not today as ages ago? Has He changed? Is he today less merciful than when Daniel besought His aid, or the multitudes of ancient saints in their afflictions? Faith and reason answer – No!

It was easy to descend the tree limb by limb until the lowest was reached, and to drop from that about 20 feet to the ground- the blessed, friendly ground. No longer hungering for a sacrifice. Safe! Safe! How feeble are words in expressing the deeper emotions of the soul! We instinctively recognize this in such cases by silence – the eloquent sealing of our lips.

Before again starting homeward he carefully estimated as well as he could the height of his rocky shelf above the bottom of the canyon. The pine was a large one – full four feet in diameter, and was at least a hundred and twenty or thirty feet in height. This he judged by the length of trees of similar size cut by lumbermen near the mills: This; added to the thirty feet between its top and the rocky shelf, would give a distance of a hundred and fifty feet; and this he believes nearly correct.

To follow the canyo9n to the plain was an easy matter, and he arrived at the fort sometime after dark, much to the relief of his friends to whom his unwonted absence had been cause for alarm. But he did not then, nor until long after, tell anyone of this thrilling experience. His matter-of-fact comrades, accustomed to peril themselves, would have laughed at him and called him a fool for getting into such a scrape; and although his judgment might acknowledge it, his vanity would rebel.

To young men, the even tenor of whose life has never brought them into situations so trying, let me say, do not scoff at prayer, nor doubt the overruling power of our Heavenly Father, who is able and willing to hear the prayer of faith and humility now as in ages past. If you have not this faith, labor for it until you receive it – this precious gift of God – a blessing, a pearl beyond all price. He who speaks to you, nearing the end of this mortality, knows whereof he speaks.