Chapter Six.Dr Morgan loved William fully as much as he did the rest of his children, but he saw that correction was necessary to cure him. Instead of being allowed to welcome Frank with the rest of the family, William was sent to his room, where he remained by himself, not knowing what was next to happen. He was very sorry for what he had done; he had seen the fearful consequences of his cruelty, by which he might have deprived a fellow-creature of life; indeed, he knew not even now whether Old Moggy might not die; and he also saw his own folly in believing that a poor weak old creature, who could not preserve herself from injury, could injure others in the way she was accused of doing, and he wished that he had not thrown stones at her. These thoughts made him very uncomfortable, and he would have been glad to go anywhere, or do anything which would enable him to cast them away from him. It was a great relief when his father came with the medicine and other things for Old Moggy, and told him that he might take them to her, but must return immediately to his room, without stopping to talk to any one.“Solitude is good for our spiritual welfare, to allow of reflection, but we must not permit it to hinder us in the performance of the active duties of life,” observed the Doctor to his wife, when he told her how he purposed treating William. “He wished to take the things to her, and he is the fittest person to do so. It is well that he should feel that he is useful and doing his duty; but at the same time it is necessary that he should understand that the so doing cannot exonerate him from the consequences of his transgressions.”William hastened out of the house with his basket. He knew that if he met any of his school companions they would ask him how long he had turned apothecary’s boy, what wages he got, and whether he made the pills as well. He determined not to mind. Still he anxiously looked about, fearing some might appear. He ran on, therefore, till he reached the steep part of the path up the mountain. As he climbed up his heart again failed him, for he began to fear that Jenny Davis would at all events scold him, and that perhaps Moggy, seeing him alone, would say something disagreeable. Still, as he had volunteered to go, it would be arrant cowardice if he turned back. He reached the hut and looked in at the window. Jenny saw him, and saw that he had a basket in his hand.“Come in, come in, my good young sir,” she exclaimed.The words encouraged William, and he entered.“It’s like your father’s son to come and visit the poor and the afflicted,” she added. “I’m sure I thank ye, and so does she who lies there, though she’s ill able to speak now.”Moggy, whose senses had by this time returned, heard her.“Ay—bless you, young gentleman! bless you!” she muttered. “I forgive you, and thank you, and am your debtor; and there’s One above who’ll forgive you if you go to Him.”It surprised and puzzled him that Moggy bore him no ill-will, after all the injury he had inflicted on her. He did not stop to inquire how this was, but, having left the contents of his basket, bent his steps homeward. As he wound his way by the path down the mountain-side, at a far more sedate pace than was his wont, he thought over the matter. Suddenly the words of the Lord’s Prayer occurred to him—“Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us.”“That’s it; she has been very wicked, and so she forgives me that she may be forgiven,” he said to himself. “But then I have been very wicked too, and I have nobody to forgive. I don’t know anybody who has done me harm; I wish that somebody would, and then I might forgive them.” He reached home, and made his way to his room again. No one came near him all day. At dinner-time Anna stole up with a plate of meat and vegetables. She placed it before him, but he felt very little inclination to eat. Anna was about to quit the room; Willie stopped her.“I know I am very wicked, but I don’t know what to do!” he exclaimed, sobbing. “I wish that papa would come and tell me.”Anna reported these words to their father. The Doctor might have hastened at once to Willie, but he judged it wiser to allow the good impression that had been formed to take root. He therefore sent him up the Bible, by Anna, and begged him to read the answer of Paul to the gaoler at Philippi. Anna showed him other texts of Scripture—“Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy”; and then pointed out warnings against those who wrong and oppress the poor and the afflicted.“I know, I know that I have done very wrong, and am very wicked,” sobbed William. “Do you think God will pardon me? I do not feel as if I could do anything to make God forgive me, or love me, or be kind to me again.”Anna stopped to collect her thoughts before she spoke; she then said—“I am very sure that you never can do anything to make God forgive you, dear Willie; and yet I am sure that Godwillforgive you if you seek Him through the Mediator He has given us. God loves to be gracious. If you really are sorry for what you have done, if you repent, not because your fault has brought you into trouble and disgrace, but because you have offended God, then God will assuredly pardon you, for He has promised in His Holy Word to do so. He says ‘Knock and it shall be opened to you, seek and ye shall find’; so you see, dear Willie, you may be pardoned if you seek it in the right way.”And she spoke of God’s love in sending His blessed Son to save us from our sins, and of the Holy Spirit that He gives us to soften our hard hearts and make them tender, as well as to teach us always what we ought to do.When she ceased speaking he was sobbing, but not bitterly.“Pray for me, Anna,” said he; “I am not able to pray for myself.”“Oh, be sure all those who love you will pray for you,” she answered, kissing him. “Papa and mamma pray for us night and morning, I am certain of that; and it makes me very happy and confident to think so. But still, dear Willie, remember always that we must pray for ourselves.”“Yes, I know, and I will try,” said William, as his sister left the room.The evening approached. Charles brought him up some tea and bread-and-butter, but said nothing. No one else came near him, not even Frank. He thought that Frank might have come, but still he could not complain. How different had been his brother’s conduct and his own towards poor Old Moggy! He had thought her a witch, and thrown stones at her, and called her all sorts of bad names; while brave Frank had risked burning himself to save her, and had kindly treated her, and given her money, and come back to see how she was faring.“And they say that there are no such things as witches, or ugly ghosts wandering about, or such-like creatures,” he thought to himself. “I always fancied there were, but papa must be right, and I am sure I hope that there are not. And as God loves us I don’t think He would let such things be, to come and frighten us, certainly not to harm or frighten those who love Him. How very, very foolish I have been, to believe all the nonsense I have heard.”With these thoughts, repentant Willie fell asleep. He did not see that his parents entered, when the rest of the family were gone to bed, and bending over him observed how placidly he slept. Then they knelt down together and earnestly prayed for his spiritual welfare. He had sorely felt their absence all day, and was inclined to believe that their love was estranged from him. How far was this from the truth! Thus it is that our Heavenly Father deals with His erring children. He shuts Himself out from them. He allows evil to overtake them, but not the less does He love them. He thus afflicts them that they may more fully feel their dependence on Him, and return like the prodigal to His arms.
Dr Morgan loved William fully as much as he did the rest of his children, but he saw that correction was necessary to cure him. Instead of being allowed to welcome Frank with the rest of the family, William was sent to his room, where he remained by himself, not knowing what was next to happen. He was very sorry for what he had done; he had seen the fearful consequences of his cruelty, by which he might have deprived a fellow-creature of life; indeed, he knew not even now whether Old Moggy might not die; and he also saw his own folly in believing that a poor weak old creature, who could not preserve herself from injury, could injure others in the way she was accused of doing, and he wished that he had not thrown stones at her. These thoughts made him very uncomfortable, and he would have been glad to go anywhere, or do anything which would enable him to cast them away from him. It was a great relief when his father came with the medicine and other things for Old Moggy, and told him that he might take them to her, but must return immediately to his room, without stopping to talk to any one.
“Solitude is good for our spiritual welfare, to allow of reflection, but we must not permit it to hinder us in the performance of the active duties of life,” observed the Doctor to his wife, when he told her how he purposed treating William. “He wished to take the things to her, and he is the fittest person to do so. It is well that he should feel that he is useful and doing his duty; but at the same time it is necessary that he should understand that the so doing cannot exonerate him from the consequences of his transgressions.”
William hastened out of the house with his basket. He knew that if he met any of his school companions they would ask him how long he had turned apothecary’s boy, what wages he got, and whether he made the pills as well. He determined not to mind. Still he anxiously looked about, fearing some might appear. He ran on, therefore, till he reached the steep part of the path up the mountain. As he climbed up his heart again failed him, for he began to fear that Jenny Davis would at all events scold him, and that perhaps Moggy, seeing him alone, would say something disagreeable. Still, as he had volunteered to go, it would be arrant cowardice if he turned back. He reached the hut and looked in at the window. Jenny saw him, and saw that he had a basket in his hand.
“Come in, come in, my good young sir,” she exclaimed.
The words encouraged William, and he entered.
“It’s like your father’s son to come and visit the poor and the afflicted,” she added. “I’m sure I thank ye, and so does she who lies there, though she’s ill able to speak now.”
Moggy, whose senses had by this time returned, heard her.
“Ay—bless you, young gentleman! bless you!” she muttered. “I forgive you, and thank you, and am your debtor; and there’s One above who’ll forgive you if you go to Him.”
It surprised and puzzled him that Moggy bore him no ill-will, after all the injury he had inflicted on her. He did not stop to inquire how this was, but, having left the contents of his basket, bent his steps homeward. As he wound his way by the path down the mountain-side, at a far more sedate pace than was his wont, he thought over the matter. Suddenly the words of the Lord’s Prayer occurred to him—“Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us.”
“That’s it; she has been very wicked, and so she forgives me that she may be forgiven,” he said to himself. “But then I have been very wicked too, and I have nobody to forgive. I don’t know anybody who has done me harm; I wish that somebody would, and then I might forgive them.” He reached home, and made his way to his room again. No one came near him all day. At dinner-time Anna stole up with a plate of meat and vegetables. She placed it before him, but he felt very little inclination to eat. Anna was about to quit the room; Willie stopped her.
“I know I am very wicked, but I don’t know what to do!” he exclaimed, sobbing. “I wish that papa would come and tell me.”
Anna reported these words to their father. The Doctor might have hastened at once to Willie, but he judged it wiser to allow the good impression that had been formed to take root. He therefore sent him up the Bible, by Anna, and begged him to read the answer of Paul to the gaoler at Philippi. Anna showed him other texts of Scripture—“Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy”; and then pointed out warnings against those who wrong and oppress the poor and the afflicted.
“I know, I know that I have done very wrong, and am very wicked,” sobbed William. “Do you think God will pardon me? I do not feel as if I could do anything to make God forgive me, or love me, or be kind to me again.”
Anna stopped to collect her thoughts before she spoke; she then said—
“I am very sure that you never can do anything to make God forgive you, dear Willie; and yet I am sure that Godwillforgive you if you seek Him through the Mediator He has given us. God loves to be gracious. If you really are sorry for what you have done, if you repent, not because your fault has brought you into trouble and disgrace, but because you have offended God, then God will assuredly pardon you, for He has promised in His Holy Word to do so. He says ‘Knock and it shall be opened to you, seek and ye shall find’; so you see, dear Willie, you may be pardoned if you seek it in the right way.”
And she spoke of God’s love in sending His blessed Son to save us from our sins, and of the Holy Spirit that He gives us to soften our hard hearts and make them tender, as well as to teach us always what we ought to do.
When she ceased speaking he was sobbing, but not bitterly.
“Pray for me, Anna,” said he; “I am not able to pray for myself.”
“Oh, be sure all those who love you will pray for you,” she answered, kissing him. “Papa and mamma pray for us night and morning, I am certain of that; and it makes me very happy and confident to think so. But still, dear Willie, remember always that we must pray for ourselves.”
“Yes, I know, and I will try,” said William, as his sister left the room.
The evening approached. Charles brought him up some tea and bread-and-butter, but said nothing. No one else came near him, not even Frank. He thought that Frank might have come, but still he could not complain. How different had been his brother’s conduct and his own towards poor Old Moggy! He had thought her a witch, and thrown stones at her, and called her all sorts of bad names; while brave Frank had risked burning himself to save her, and had kindly treated her, and given her money, and come back to see how she was faring.
“And they say that there are no such things as witches, or ugly ghosts wandering about, or such-like creatures,” he thought to himself. “I always fancied there were, but papa must be right, and I am sure I hope that there are not. And as God loves us I don’t think He would let such things be, to come and frighten us, certainly not to harm or frighten those who love Him. How very, very foolish I have been, to believe all the nonsense I have heard.”
With these thoughts, repentant Willie fell asleep. He did not see that his parents entered, when the rest of the family were gone to bed, and bending over him observed how placidly he slept. Then they knelt down together and earnestly prayed for his spiritual welfare. He had sorely felt their absence all day, and was inclined to believe that their love was estranged from him. How far was this from the truth! Thus it is that our Heavenly Father deals with His erring children. He shuts Himself out from them. He allows evil to overtake them, but not the less does He love them. He thus afflicts them that they may more fully feel their dependence on Him, and return like the prodigal to His arms.
Chapter Seven.Frank had to return to his ship, but after a short cruise he wrote word that he had again got leave to go home; and this time he hoped to be accompanied by his shipmate, the preserver of his life, Tom Holman. The family at the rectory were as eager to see Tom as they were before. Some changes had taken place among them. Willie was very different to what he had been. His masters remarked that he was much improved. From being the most idle, he was now one of the most attentive and obedient of their scholars. His parents, too, believed that they had discovered a real change of heart. His godmother, Miss Becky Ap Reece, had died and left him her heir, her property realising a far larger sum than had been expected; indeed, it was surmised that the poor lady must have lost a considerable portion of her income at cards, or she would have been able to live in better style, or have done more good with it than she had done.As soon as William heard that cousin Becky’s property had been left to him, though of course he was ignorant of its value, he entreated that he might give it to Old Moggy to make her comfortable.“What, all, Willie? all your fortune?” asked his father, with a feeling of pleasure about his heart.“O yes, papa, I do not think that I have a right to spend any of it on myself, while she is suffering in consequence of my wickedness,” answered Willie, with perfect sincerity.“I rejoice to hear you say so, my dear boy, but the matter is not left in your power, nor indeed in mine. Until you are of age, the interest of the capital can alone be spent; and I, as your guardian, have authority only to expend it on your proper maintenance and education. It is only, therefore, by denying yourself all luxuries and amusements, and by saving pocket-money, with which I am directed to supply you, that you can help poor Moggy as you desire.”“Oh then, that is what I will do,” exclaimed Willie. “Don’t give me any pocket-money, or let me have any amusements which cost money. That’s almost what I wanted to do; though I should like to set her up as a lady, or in a comfortable house, with a servant to attend on her.”“That would not be wise, Willie,” remarked Dr Morgan. “You would expend all your means on one person, giving her more than she requires; and though it would save you trouble, you would be prevented from benefiting others; whereas you should calculate the means at your disposal, and take trouble to ascertain how much good you can possibly do with it. I am also bound to give you your pocket-money, provided I do not find that you make a bad use of it. You must decide how it is to be spent, and of course you are at liberty to return it to me to spend for you.”“Oh, that will do, that will do!” exclaimed Willie, with pleasure in his tone. “But you will help me, papa, in doing what is best with it?”“I have already anticipated some of your wishes with respect to poor Moggy, and we will see what more can be done to make her comfortable. She says that she prefers Windyside to any other spot on earth, and has no wish to move from it.”On a fine day, when the sun was shining brightly over mountain and moor, and his beams were lighting up the pine-trees and the once dark, ruinous hovel on the hillside, Dr Morgan with most of his children took their way towards Old Moggy’s abode. It was greatly changed for the better. A chimney was now to be seen rising above the roof, which had been fresh tiled; there was glass in the window, a latch on the door, which had been repaired, and the lichen-covered walls had been scraped, fresh pointed, and white-washed. When the party got inside they discovered an equally agreeable change. A thick curtain divided the room; a screen kept off the draught when the door was opened; the walls were whitened, and there was a cupboard, and a table and chairs, and several shelves, on which rested some neat crockery. On the inside of the curtain there was a comfortable bed, and some thick matting on the floor. Old Moggy was seated in a large easy-chair, with her feet on the old stool, which before was one of her sole articles of furniture, and good Jenny Davis was making up a nice fire of coals, on which to cook some wholesome meat and vegetables which she had just brought from the market.“She’s getting quite strong and hearty, with the good food and kindness,” answered Jenny to the Doctor’s question, “How is Moggy to-day?”“She can talk to ye as clear and sensibly as any one; ay, and there are some glorious things she has been saying to me, which have done my soul a world of good.”“Ay, Doctor Morgan, in one thing Jenny speaks truth. I don’t feel the poor demented creature I was a few short months ago,” said Moggy; “and it’s your tender kindness, and that of your dear boy, Master Willie, and the rest of your children, has brought about the change which ye see in me. I am clothed, and in my right mind; and yet, through the mercy of God, I never, even when my mind was wrong, was cast out from Him. I still sought Him, and found Him. He watched over me and protected me.”“Be assured, Moggy,” said the Doctor, “that we are well repaid for what we have done for you. But I must not stay. I came up with my children to-day to see how you were. You require no doctoring, and so I must away. Anna, however, will remain with the rest, as she has brought up a book to read, which may interest you.”When the Doctor had gone Anna took a seat by Moggy’s side, and Willie begged Jenny to give him some employment which might be of use.“There’s little enough, my sweet young master, that is fit for you to do,” answered Jenny. “There are those few pots and pans to clean, and some cups and saucers, and plates and spoons, and knives and forks, but sure that’s not work fit for a young gentleman’s hands.”“Oh, any work is fit for me, if it is to serve Moggy,” said William, rubbing away at the articles which were placed by his side.Anna read on in her sweet, low voice. The book contained a true history of one who bore suffering and affliction with patience and perfect resignation to the Divine will for long, long years, till health came back and she enjoyed peace and happiness in this world, and departed full of joy and hope. Moggy, who seemed deeply interested, instantly applied the history to herself.“That’s me, that’s me,” she muttered. “I have got peace and comfort, and it’s a happiness to have all these loving, dear children round me.” She paused and sighed deeply, as if a recollection of the past had come suddenly on her, for she added, “But ah, who can bring back the dead—those who lie far, far away in their ocean grave? No joy for me here till I know that I am departing to meet them.”“Dear Moggy,” said Anna, interrupting her gently, and fearing that she might give way to her feelings too much, “you have more than once promised that you would give us some of your past history. We should very much like to hear it, provided you do not dwell too long on the more painful portions.”Moggy looked up at her with a sad expression in her eyes.“Ah, sweet Miss Anna, you do not know what you ask,” she answered. “If I were to tell you my history without the sad portions there truly would be little to tell; but I will not therefore deny you. It will do me good, maybe, to know that those I love are acquainted with my griefs, and can pity me, and as it were share them with me.”“We know that you have had sore troubles, and we pity you for them, and we have all learned to love you because you bear them so patiently,” said Anna; “therefore if it gives you pain do not talk of your past history.”“Ay, that is kind in you, Miss Anna, to say, but I have the wish now to tell you all; what I have been, and how I came to be as I am,” said Moggy. “Master Willie, ask Master Charles to come in (Charles had returned outside the cottage to botanise), then I’ll tell ye all, yes, all. Often and often I’ve thought of the past, so it does not seem strange to me as it will to you, dear Miss Anna, but ye will not weep for me, for it’s long, long since I wept for myself.”A shout from William made Anna run to the door, and from thence she saw Charley shaking hands with their brother Frank, and Willie running down the hill towards them. Another person stood by, who must be, she was certain, Tom Holman. Looking into the cottage again, and crying out, “Frank has come! Frank has come!” she also ran down the hill towards her brothers. There were warm greetings, and smiles, and laughter; and then Frank sang out, “Hillo, Tom, come up here. My brothers and sister want to thank you for enabling me to get back and see them; and tell them how you picked me out of the water and saved my life, and have taken such good care of me ever since.”Tom had, with true politeness, gone some way off out of ear-shot of the brothers and sister when they met. The latter words were addressed to him, and with the activity of a seaman he sprang up the hill towards them. He did not quite come up to the idea Anna had formed of him. Though dressed as a seaman, he was somewhat different to the commonly-received notions of what a British tar is like; still less could he be compared to a refined pirate or dashing rover of romance. He was an ordinary sized, sunburnt, darkish man of middle age, with a somewhat grave expression of countenance. When he spoke, however, a pleasant smile lit up his firm mouth, and his eyes beamed with intelligence. Anna, Charles, and Willie went forward, and putting out their hands one after the other, shook his cordially, and thanked him, in a few simple words, for the manly services he had rendered Frank; each hoping to find means of proving their gratitude in a more substantial way than by words alone. Tom answered them in a pleasant voice, evidently gratified by the way they had treated him.“Why you see, Miss Morgan and young gentlemen, it was your brother first did me a service, and a very great one too, and so I felt very grateful, and a liking to him, and that made me have my eye oftener on him when there was any danger abroad, and be oftener talking to him; and so, do ye see, all the rest followed in course.”“We never heard of Frank doing anything for you,” answered Anna. “We thought that the obligation was all on his side.”“Come, Tom, don’t talk about that just now,” cried Frank. “I say, Anna, how’s Old Moggy? I’m glad to see that you have painted up her abode. I must go up and see her at once, and introduce Tom to her; she’ll like to hear about the foreign parts he has been to.”Saying this, he ran up the hill towards the hut. The rest of the party followed more slowly. Tom remained outside; the young Morgans entered. They found Frank seated opposite to Moggy, talking away to her, and telling her how happy he was to see her so comfortable. The poor old woman was much gratified with the attention paid her.“But where is Tom?” cried Frank. “Willie, tell him to come in. I want to introduce him to Moggy. He will be interested in her, for a kinder heart than his does not beat in the bosom of any man, woman, or child that I know of.”Tom soon made his appearance, doffing his tarpauling as he entered, and taking a seat to which Frank pointed, nearly opposite Moggy.For a minute or more after Tom had taken his seat Moggy was silent, when bending forward, and shrouding her grey eyebrows with her withered hand, with unexpected suddenness she said, in a deep, low voice, and a strange inquiring expression in her countenance—“Who are you, and where do you come from?”“A seaman, mother,” answered Tom, “and shipmate for many a year with young Mister Morgan here.”The old woman scarcely seemed to understand what was said, but kept muttering to herself, and intently gazing at Tom.“Come, Moggy, you’ll stare my shipmate out of countenance, for he’s a bashful man, though a brave one,” cried Frank, who fancied that his friend did not like the scrutiny he was undergoing. Frank produced the effect he wished, and Moggy at once resumed the placid manner she had of late exhibited.“Your pardon, sir; strange fancies come over me at times, though it’s seldom now I get as bad as I used to be,” said Moggy. “I forgot how time passes, ay, and what changes time works, but I will not trouble you with my wild fancies. Your honoured father has shown me how I may put them to flight by prayer, by looking to Him who died for us, and then all becomes peace, and joy, and contentment.”“Moggy was just going to give me an account of her early days when you arrived,” said Anna.“I shall like very much to hear all about her, if Moggy will put off her history till another day,” remarked Frank. “I promised to return home again without delay, so we must not remain any longer.”“Remember, children dear, time is in God’s hand, not ours. We propose, but He disposes as He knows best. He may think fit to let me live, to enjoy the comforts you have provided for me in my old age, or He may think fit to call me home; but while I live my wish will be to please you if I can benefit you, and my last prayers will be for your welfare.”“Oh, you must live on for many a day, and we must hear your story over and over again, till we know it by heart,” cried Frank, about to go.“Once for me to tell and once for you to hear would be enough, my dear lad,” said Moggy, shaking her head.“Good-bye, mother, good-bye,” said Tom, his heart evidently touched by the poor old woman’s condition.“Fare thee well, my son, fare thee well. May Heaven prosper thee and guard thee on the perilous waters,” answered Moggy, gazing intently at him as before. “So like thy countenance, and thy manners.”The rest of the party uttered their farewells, and leaving the hut, took their way down the mountain.
Frank had to return to his ship, but after a short cruise he wrote word that he had again got leave to go home; and this time he hoped to be accompanied by his shipmate, the preserver of his life, Tom Holman. The family at the rectory were as eager to see Tom as they were before. Some changes had taken place among them. Willie was very different to what he had been. His masters remarked that he was much improved. From being the most idle, he was now one of the most attentive and obedient of their scholars. His parents, too, believed that they had discovered a real change of heart. His godmother, Miss Becky Ap Reece, had died and left him her heir, her property realising a far larger sum than had been expected; indeed, it was surmised that the poor lady must have lost a considerable portion of her income at cards, or she would have been able to live in better style, or have done more good with it than she had done.
As soon as William heard that cousin Becky’s property had been left to him, though of course he was ignorant of its value, he entreated that he might give it to Old Moggy to make her comfortable.
“What, all, Willie? all your fortune?” asked his father, with a feeling of pleasure about his heart.
“O yes, papa, I do not think that I have a right to spend any of it on myself, while she is suffering in consequence of my wickedness,” answered Willie, with perfect sincerity.
“I rejoice to hear you say so, my dear boy, but the matter is not left in your power, nor indeed in mine. Until you are of age, the interest of the capital can alone be spent; and I, as your guardian, have authority only to expend it on your proper maintenance and education. It is only, therefore, by denying yourself all luxuries and amusements, and by saving pocket-money, with which I am directed to supply you, that you can help poor Moggy as you desire.”
“Oh then, that is what I will do,” exclaimed Willie. “Don’t give me any pocket-money, or let me have any amusements which cost money. That’s almost what I wanted to do; though I should like to set her up as a lady, or in a comfortable house, with a servant to attend on her.”
“That would not be wise, Willie,” remarked Dr Morgan. “You would expend all your means on one person, giving her more than she requires; and though it would save you trouble, you would be prevented from benefiting others; whereas you should calculate the means at your disposal, and take trouble to ascertain how much good you can possibly do with it. I am also bound to give you your pocket-money, provided I do not find that you make a bad use of it. You must decide how it is to be spent, and of course you are at liberty to return it to me to spend for you.”
“Oh, that will do, that will do!” exclaimed Willie, with pleasure in his tone. “But you will help me, papa, in doing what is best with it?”
“I have already anticipated some of your wishes with respect to poor Moggy, and we will see what more can be done to make her comfortable. She says that she prefers Windyside to any other spot on earth, and has no wish to move from it.”
On a fine day, when the sun was shining brightly over mountain and moor, and his beams were lighting up the pine-trees and the once dark, ruinous hovel on the hillside, Dr Morgan with most of his children took their way towards Old Moggy’s abode. It was greatly changed for the better. A chimney was now to be seen rising above the roof, which had been fresh tiled; there was glass in the window, a latch on the door, which had been repaired, and the lichen-covered walls had been scraped, fresh pointed, and white-washed. When the party got inside they discovered an equally agreeable change. A thick curtain divided the room; a screen kept off the draught when the door was opened; the walls were whitened, and there was a cupboard, and a table and chairs, and several shelves, on which rested some neat crockery. On the inside of the curtain there was a comfortable bed, and some thick matting on the floor. Old Moggy was seated in a large easy-chair, with her feet on the old stool, which before was one of her sole articles of furniture, and good Jenny Davis was making up a nice fire of coals, on which to cook some wholesome meat and vegetables which she had just brought from the market.
“She’s getting quite strong and hearty, with the good food and kindness,” answered Jenny to the Doctor’s question, “How is Moggy to-day?”
“She can talk to ye as clear and sensibly as any one; ay, and there are some glorious things she has been saying to me, which have done my soul a world of good.”
“Ay, Doctor Morgan, in one thing Jenny speaks truth. I don’t feel the poor demented creature I was a few short months ago,” said Moggy; “and it’s your tender kindness, and that of your dear boy, Master Willie, and the rest of your children, has brought about the change which ye see in me. I am clothed, and in my right mind; and yet, through the mercy of God, I never, even when my mind was wrong, was cast out from Him. I still sought Him, and found Him. He watched over me and protected me.”
“Be assured, Moggy,” said the Doctor, “that we are well repaid for what we have done for you. But I must not stay. I came up with my children to-day to see how you were. You require no doctoring, and so I must away. Anna, however, will remain with the rest, as she has brought up a book to read, which may interest you.”
When the Doctor had gone Anna took a seat by Moggy’s side, and Willie begged Jenny to give him some employment which might be of use.
“There’s little enough, my sweet young master, that is fit for you to do,” answered Jenny. “There are those few pots and pans to clean, and some cups and saucers, and plates and spoons, and knives and forks, but sure that’s not work fit for a young gentleman’s hands.”
“Oh, any work is fit for me, if it is to serve Moggy,” said William, rubbing away at the articles which were placed by his side.
Anna read on in her sweet, low voice. The book contained a true history of one who bore suffering and affliction with patience and perfect resignation to the Divine will for long, long years, till health came back and she enjoyed peace and happiness in this world, and departed full of joy and hope. Moggy, who seemed deeply interested, instantly applied the history to herself.
“That’s me, that’s me,” she muttered. “I have got peace and comfort, and it’s a happiness to have all these loving, dear children round me.” She paused and sighed deeply, as if a recollection of the past had come suddenly on her, for she added, “But ah, who can bring back the dead—those who lie far, far away in their ocean grave? No joy for me here till I know that I am departing to meet them.”
“Dear Moggy,” said Anna, interrupting her gently, and fearing that she might give way to her feelings too much, “you have more than once promised that you would give us some of your past history. We should very much like to hear it, provided you do not dwell too long on the more painful portions.”
Moggy looked up at her with a sad expression in her eyes.
“Ah, sweet Miss Anna, you do not know what you ask,” she answered. “If I were to tell you my history without the sad portions there truly would be little to tell; but I will not therefore deny you. It will do me good, maybe, to know that those I love are acquainted with my griefs, and can pity me, and as it were share them with me.”
“We know that you have had sore troubles, and we pity you for them, and we have all learned to love you because you bear them so patiently,” said Anna; “therefore if it gives you pain do not talk of your past history.”
“Ay, that is kind in you, Miss Anna, to say, but I have the wish now to tell you all; what I have been, and how I came to be as I am,” said Moggy. “Master Willie, ask Master Charles to come in (Charles had returned outside the cottage to botanise), then I’ll tell ye all, yes, all. Often and often I’ve thought of the past, so it does not seem strange to me as it will to you, dear Miss Anna, but ye will not weep for me, for it’s long, long since I wept for myself.”
A shout from William made Anna run to the door, and from thence she saw Charley shaking hands with their brother Frank, and Willie running down the hill towards them. Another person stood by, who must be, she was certain, Tom Holman. Looking into the cottage again, and crying out, “Frank has come! Frank has come!” she also ran down the hill towards her brothers. There were warm greetings, and smiles, and laughter; and then Frank sang out, “Hillo, Tom, come up here. My brothers and sister want to thank you for enabling me to get back and see them; and tell them how you picked me out of the water and saved my life, and have taken such good care of me ever since.”
Tom had, with true politeness, gone some way off out of ear-shot of the brothers and sister when they met. The latter words were addressed to him, and with the activity of a seaman he sprang up the hill towards them. He did not quite come up to the idea Anna had formed of him. Though dressed as a seaman, he was somewhat different to the commonly-received notions of what a British tar is like; still less could he be compared to a refined pirate or dashing rover of romance. He was an ordinary sized, sunburnt, darkish man of middle age, with a somewhat grave expression of countenance. When he spoke, however, a pleasant smile lit up his firm mouth, and his eyes beamed with intelligence. Anna, Charles, and Willie went forward, and putting out their hands one after the other, shook his cordially, and thanked him, in a few simple words, for the manly services he had rendered Frank; each hoping to find means of proving their gratitude in a more substantial way than by words alone. Tom answered them in a pleasant voice, evidently gratified by the way they had treated him.
“Why you see, Miss Morgan and young gentlemen, it was your brother first did me a service, and a very great one too, and so I felt very grateful, and a liking to him, and that made me have my eye oftener on him when there was any danger abroad, and be oftener talking to him; and so, do ye see, all the rest followed in course.”
“We never heard of Frank doing anything for you,” answered Anna. “We thought that the obligation was all on his side.”
“Come, Tom, don’t talk about that just now,” cried Frank. “I say, Anna, how’s Old Moggy? I’m glad to see that you have painted up her abode. I must go up and see her at once, and introduce Tom to her; she’ll like to hear about the foreign parts he has been to.”
Saying this, he ran up the hill towards the hut. The rest of the party followed more slowly. Tom remained outside; the young Morgans entered. They found Frank seated opposite to Moggy, talking away to her, and telling her how happy he was to see her so comfortable. The poor old woman was much gratified with the attention paid her.
“But where is Tom?” cried Frank. “Willie, tell him to come in. I want to introduce him to Moggy. He will be interested in her, for a kinder heart than his does not beat in the bosom of any man, woman, or child that I know of.”
Tom soon made his appearance, doffing his tarpauling as he entered, and taking a seat to which Frank pointed, nearly opposite Moggy.
For a minute or more after Tom had taken his seat Moggy was silent, when bending forward, and shrouding her grey eyebrows with her withered hand, with unexpected suddenness she said, in a deep, low voice, and a strange inquiring expression in her countenance—
“Who are you, and where do you come from?”
“A seaman, mother,” answered Tom, “and shipmate for many a year with young Mister Morgan here.”
The old woman scarcely seemed to understand what was said, but kept muttering to herself, and intently gazing at Tom.
“Come, Moggy, you’ll stare my shipmate out of countenance, for he’s a bashful man, though a brave one,” cried Frank, who fancied that his friend did not like the scrutiny he was undergoing. Frank produced the effect he wished, and Moggy at once resumed the placid manner she had of late exhibited.
“Your pardon, sir; strange fancies come over me at times, though it’s seldom now I get as bad as I used to be,” said Moggy. “I forgot how time passes, ay, and what changes time works, but I will not trouble you with my wild fancies. Your honoured father has shown me how I may put them to flight by prayer, by looking to Him who died for us, and then all becomes peace, and joy, and contentment.”
“Moggy was just going to give me an account of her early days when you arrived,” said Anna.
“I shall like very much to hear all about her, if Moggy will put off her history till another day,” remarked Frank. “I promised to return home again without delay, so we must not remain any longer.”
“Remember, children dear, time is in God’s hand, not ours. We propose, but He disposes as He knows best. He may think fit to let me live, to enjoy the comforts you have provided for me in my old age, or He may think fit to call me home; but while I live my wish will be to please you if I can benefit you, and my last prayers will be for your welfare.”
“Oh, you must live on for many a day, and we must hear your story over and over again, till we know it by heart,” cried Frank, about to go.
“Once for me to tell and once for you to hear would be enough, my dear lad,” said Moggy, shaking her head.
“Good-bye, mother, good-bye,” said Tom, his heart evidently touched by the poor old woman’s condition.
“Fare thee well, my son, fare thee well. May Heaven prosper thee and guard thee on the perilous waters,” answered Moggy, gazing intently at him as before. “So like thy countenance, and thy manners.”
The rest of the party uttered their farewells, and leaving the hut, took their way down the mountain.
Chapter Eight.Frank was the life of the family in the drawing-room, and Tom interested and astonished the inmates of the kitchen with the accounts he gave them of his own adventures and his young officer’s exploits and gallant deeds. It is possible that some of his companions might have preferred hearing him sing a rollicking sea song, and seeing him dance a hornpipe, as most seamen are represented as doing on all possible occasions; but they soon found out that such was not Tom Holman’s way. He could talk, though, and laugh, and be very merry at times, and never seemed unhappy; and Mary Jones, Mrs Morgan’s old nurse, declared that he was the pleasantest, and nicest, and quietest, ay, and more than that, the best young man she had seen for many a day. Not that he was very young, for he was certainly over forty. Tom Holman was more than pleasant—he was an earnest, Christian seaman. Happily there are many such now-a-days, both in the Royal Navy and in the merchant service—men who are not ashamed of the Cross of Christ. Tom and Mrs Jones soon became fast friends, and it was through her that the way in which he and Frank first became intimate was known to Mrs Morgan and the rest of the family.“You see, Mrs Jones,” said Tom, as he sat with her in the housekeeper’s room, “I was pretty well a castaway, without friends, without home, without any one to care for me, or show me the right course to sail on. I had got hold of some books, all about the rights of man, sneering at religion, and everything that was right, and noble, and holy; and in my ignorance I thought it all very fine, and had become a perfect infidel. All that sort of books writ by the devil’s devices have brought countless beings to destruction—of body as well as of soul. Our ship was on the coast of Africa, employed in looking after slavers, to try and put a stop to the slave trade. I entered warmly into the work, for I thought that it was a cruel shame that men, because they had white skins, more power, and maybe, more sense, should be allowed to carry off their fellow-men and hold them in bondage. I was appointed as coxswain of the boat commanded by Mr Morgan. Often we used to be sent away in her for days together from the ship, to lie in wait for slavers. The officers on such occasions used to allow us to talk pretty freely to one another and to express our minds. One day I said something which showed Mr Morgan what was in my mind—how dark and ignorant it was. He questioned me further, and found that I was an infidel, that I had no belief in God or in goodness, and that I was unhappy. Some officers would have cared nothing for this, or just abused me, called me a fool, and let me alone; others, who called themselves religious, would have cast me off as a reprobate. But Mr Morgan, whom I always thought only a good-natured, merry young gentleman, did neither; but he stuck to me like a friend. Day after day, and night after night, he talked to me, and reasoned with me, and read to me out of the blessed Gospel, for he never was without the Book of Life in all our expedition. (See Note 1.) Whenever he could get me alone he pleaded earnestly with me, as a friend, nay, as affectionately as a brother. In spite of myself, he made me listen to him, and I learned to love and respect him, even when I thought myself far wiser than he was. He persevered. I began to see how vile I was, how unlike a pure and holy God; and then he showed me the only way by which I could become fit to dwell with God. It seemed so plain, so simple, so beautiful, so unlike any idea man could conceive, that I, as it were, sprang to it, just as a drowning man springs to a rock, and clutching it, lifts himself up clear of the tangled weeds which are dragging him to destruction. From that moment I became a changed man, and gained a peace and happiness of which I knew nothing before.”“Dr Morgan’s regards, and he hopes you’ll step into the dining-room, Mr Holman,” said the parlour-maid, opening the door.Tom was soon seated among the family circle, his manner showing that he was perfectly at his ease without the slightest show of presumption.“Tom, they want to hear about our adventures, and I’ve told them that I must have you present to confirm my account, lest they should suppose I am romancing,” said Frank, as Tom entered.“They wouldn’t think that, Mr Morgan,” answered Tom. “But, however, I’ll take the helm for a spell if you get out of your right course.”“I don’t doubt you, old shipmate,” said Frank. “But before I get under weigh with my yarn I want you to give them a few pages out of your log before you and I sailed together.”Tom guessed what this request meant. “Well, sir, if your honourable father and mother and you wish it, I’ll tell you all I know about myself. For what I know to the contrary, I was born at sea. My first recollections were of a fearful storm on the ocean. We were tossing about in a boat. One of them, whom I for a long time afterwards thought was my father, had charge of me. He was a kind-hearted man, and looked after me most carefully. He went by the name of Jack Johnson, but sailors often change their names, especially if they have deserted, or have done anything for which they think that they may be punished. He always called me Tom, and I didn’t know that I had any other name till he told me that my name was Holman, that he had known my father, who was a very respectable man, who, with my mother, and many other people, had been lost at sea. He said that he had saved me, and that we, with a few others, were the only people who had escaped from the wreck. We had been picked up by a ship outward bound round the Horn. Two of the men died, the rest entered on board the whaler, and as the captain could not well pitch me overboard he was obliged to take me; for indeed Jack, who was the best seaman of the lot, refused to do duty unless I was put on the ship’s books for rations. It was a rough school for a child, but I throve in it, and learned many things, though some of them I had better not have learned. The captain seemed a stern and morose man, and for many months he took no notice of me; but one day as I was trying to climb up the rattlins of the lower shrouds I fell to the deck. He ran to me, lifted me up, and carrying me to his cabin, placed me on his own bed, and with an anxious countenance examined me all over to find where I was hurt. He rubbed my temples and hands, and Jack, who followed him into the cabin, said he looked quite pleased when I came to again. I was some weeks recovering, and he watched over me all the time with as much care as if I had been his own child.“‘Ah! the man’s heart is in the right place, and I’d sooner sail with him than with many another softer-spoken gentleman I’ve fallen in with,’ remarked Jack one day after I had recovered.“We heard from one of the crew, who had before sailed with the captain, that he had a little son of his own killed from falling on deck, and this it was which made him take to me.”“Yes, God has implanted right and good feelings in the bosoms of all His creatures,” observed the Doctor. “But when they are neglected, and sin is allowed to get the better of them, they are destroyed. None of our hearts are in their right place, as the saying is. They are all by nature prone to ill. The same man who was doing you the kindness might in other ways have been grievously offending God.”“Ay, sir, it might have been; but it would not become me to find fault with one who had rendered me so great a service,” said Tom. “After I was well, he used to have me into his cabin every day to teach me to read and write, and the little learning I ever had I gained from him. We had been out four years, and the ship had at last got a full cargo, and was on the point of returning home, when we fell in with another ship belonging to the same owners. The captain of her had died, and the first mate had been washed overboard, and so the supercargo invited our captain to take charge of her. As he had no wife nor children living at home, this he consented to do, and thus it happened that I remained out in the Pacific another four years. Tom for my sake went with him to the other ship. We were nearly full.“‘One more fish, and then hurrah for old England, lads,’ sung out the captain, as three sperm whales were seen spouting from the mast-head.“All the boats were immediately lowered. Jack was in the captain’s boat. Away they pulled from the ship in chase. Those sperm whales are sometimes dangerous creatures to hunt. We saw that the captain’s boat was fast, that is to say, he had struck the whale. Away went the boat, towed at a great rate. Suddenly she stopped—the whale rose. The captain pulled in to strike another harpoon into her. The monster reared her powerful tail and struck the boat a blow which split her clean in two. We had not a boat left to go to our shipmates’ assistance; the other boats were far away in other directions. The wind was light, but we were able to lay up towards the spot where the accident had occurred. We could at length see the wreck of the boat and two men clinging to her. I hoped that one might be Jack and the other the captain; for they were, I may well say, the only two people I cared for in the world, or who cared for me. Eagerly I looked out. ‘It’s Jem Rawlins and Peter Garvin,’ I heard some one say. My heart sank within me. Jem and Peter were got on board. They were, of all the crew, those I had the least reason to like. They told us that the poor captain had got the line entangled round his leg, and had been drawn down when the whale sounded, and that Jack had been killed by a blow from her tail. It seemed wonderful that they themselves should have escaped, considering the fury with which the whale attacked the boat. Thus was the last link broken which, as it were, connected me with my lost relations, and I might say that I had not a friend in the world. All I knew about myself was that Jack had saved me from the wreck of a ship called the ‘Dove,’ which, with my name, ‘Tom Holman,’ he had tattooed on my arm. He had also put into a tin case the belt I had on and one or two other little articles, which tin case was in his chest. It was unanimously agreed on board that I should be his heir, so I succeeded to the chest, the chief article of value in which was the tin case. I took it out, and have ever since preserved it carefully, though with little hope of finding it of use. I had become very fond of reading, and had read all the books in the captain’s cabin. There were not many of them, and there was not one which had religion in it, and I am very certain that there was not a Bible on board. I only knew that there was such a book from the captain, who had read it at home, and I heard him only a few days before his death regretting that he had not got one. I believe our ship was not worse than others, and to the best of my belief not one of the South Sea whalers we fell in with had a Bible on board. The crews, as a rule, were lawless reprobates, and the masters petty tyrants, who cared nothing for the men, provided they would work to get their ships full. We sailed for England by the way of Cape Horn. I wished to go there because I wished to see what sort of a country it was, and to enjoy the amusements of which I heard the men talking. We had a prosperous passage till we were in the latitude of the Falkland Islands, when we were caught in a heavy gale, and after knocking about for some time in thick weather, when no observation could be obtained, we found ourselves with breakers under our lee, and a rocky shore beyond. The masts were cut away and anchors let go, but to no purpose; the ship parting from her anchors was driven on the rocks. Nearly half the crew were washed away, and the rest of us succeeded in gaining the shore, soon after which the ship went to pieces, and all the cargo which we had toiled so hard to collect was returned to the sea from whence it was obtained. Very few provisions came on shore, but there was a fair supply of canvas and plenty of ropes. We at once therefore put up a tent for ourselves, and placed all our more valuable possessions under cover. With some spars which came on shore we formed a lofty flagstaff, on which we hoisted a flag, in the hope that it might be seen by some passing vessel. There were springs of good water near the shore, and as long as our provisions lasted we got on pretty well, but when they began to fail the men looked at each other and asked, ‘What next?’“‘Oh, some ship must be passing soon, and will take us off,’ cried out two or three, who were unwilling to be placed on reduced rations.“‘But suppose no ship does pass, lads, what will you do? I have to tell you that, with the greatest economy, our provisions will not last another ten days,’ said the first mate, who was now captain. ‘It is barren and sandy here, but maybe, if we push our way across the island, we may find a richer country, and some animals on which we may live.’“Some agreed to the mate’s proposal, others determined to remain on the sea-shore. I accompanied the mate. The provisions were equally divided, and those who remained said they would try and catch some fish, in case theirs ran short.“‘Try and catch them at once, then,’ said the mate; ‘don’t wait till you are starving.’“In our party was a man who had been in South America, and could use the lasso with dexterity. He and another man fitted two lines for the purpose, in the hope of finding some wild animals. The rest laughed at them, declaring that in an island where there was not a tree to be seen, and only some long tufts of grass, it was not likely that we should find anything but snakes and lizards. We had made good some ten miles or so, when we came upon a scene of desolation such as I have seldom elsewhere met with. Far as the eye could reach the surface of the ground was one black mass of cinders. The men looked at each other.“‘Little prospect of finding any animals hereabouts,’ observed one of the men.“‘Not so sure of that,’ said the mate, kicking up the ashes with his foot. Under them appeared some blades of green grass just springing up.“‘To my mind the fire has run across the island at this part, which seems to be somewhat narrow, for from the top of that rock I climbed I could make out the sea on either hand; and thus, you understand, it may have driven the animals, if there are any, over to the other parts beyond, where I hope we may find them.’“‘But how is it that the animals didn’t run our way?’ asked one of the men.“‘Because the country where we have been is barren and sandy, and they have gone to the opposite side, which is very different. To the best of my belief we shall find herds of wild cattle feeding on the other side if we bravely push on. Here goes, who’ll follow?’“Saying this, the mate walked on quickly into the sea of cinders. I ran after him, and the rest followed. The mate supposed that the fire had occurred only a short time before we reached the island, and had been put out by the storm which had driven us on shore, or rather by the rain which accompanied it. We had to sleep that night in the middle of the cinders, without a drop of water to drink. Some of the men grumbled, but the mate told them that they ought to be thankful, because there was no chance of our being burned, which there might be if we were sleeping in the long grass.“‘Ah, lads, every situation has its advantages, if we will but look for them,’ he remarked; and I have often since thought of that saying of his.“On we went, the mate leading, the men often unwilling to proceed till he uttered a few words of encouragement. At last the sun’s rays, bursting out from between the clouds, fell on some green grass which clothed the side of a hill before us. It was a welcome sight; and still more welcome was the sight of a herd of cattle which appeared before us as we got clear of the burnt district. It was important not to frighten them. We advanced carefully, the two men with lassoes leading, hiding ourselves among rocks and bushes, and keeping to leeward of the herd. To our great satisfaction, the animals as they fed moved on towards us. Suddenly the men with the lassoes threw them round the neck of a cow, the nearest animal to us. We sprang forward, laying hold of the ends, one party hauling one way, one the other. In spite of all her violent struggles, we had her fast, and one of the men, rushing in, hamstrung her, and she was in our power. This capture raised our spirits, for we felt sure that we should never want food on the island, as we might catch the oxen in pitfalls if not with lassoes. The mate was asked how he came to suppose that there were cattle on the island.“‘Just because a shipmate, in whose word I could trust, told me he had seen them,’ was the answer. ‘What better reason for believing a thing would you require?’“We camped where we were, and the South American showed us how to cut up the heifer and to dry the meat in the sun, so that we had as much pure meat as each of us could carry. As our companions had enough food for some days longer, the mate wished to see more of the island before returning. We saw several large herds of cattle, which fed on the long grass covering the face of the country, which was generally undulating. We were several days away, and as we caught sight of the flagstaff, we thought of the pleasure the supply of meat we had brought would afford our companions. We saw the tents, but no one came to meet us. We shouted, but there was no shout in return. We feared that they might be ill, or even dead. We reached the tent, but no one was within; we looked about, we could find no one. The mate was looking seaward. He pointed to the offing, where, sinking below the horizon, the white sail of a ship was seen. It was more than probable that our shipmates had gone in her, but whether with their own will or carried off by force we could not conjecture. Some of the men were very angry, but the mate observed that was wrong. Our shipmates, probably, could not help themselves. They might have supposed we should not return, and, if they had gone with their own will, might have been unable to leave any message for us. The mate was a truly charitable man, for he was anxious to put the best construction on the conduct of our shipmates. There, however, we were left, with a diminished party, with the possibility that another ship might not approach the coast for many months to come. The summer was drawing to a close. It had been somewhat damp and cold, and we expected that the winter would be proportionally severe.“‘We may get off, but we may possibly have to stay; and if we are wise, lads, we shall prepare for the worst,’ said the mate; and telling the men what would be wanted, forthwith began the work he advised.“We were to build a couple of huts, to cut and dry turf for fuel, and to kill some cattle and prepare the flesh; to hunt for vegetables or herbs, which might keep off scurvy, and to do various other things.“‘Example is better than precept, Tom, as you will find,’ observed the mate to me. ‘I never tell men to do what I am not ready to do myself. That’s the reason they obey me so willingly.’“I’ve ever since remembered the mate’s words, and told them to Mr Morgan; and I am sure he never orders men to do what he is not ready to try and do himself if necessary. It was fortunate for all that the mate’s advice was followed. Some comfortable huts were got up, and a store of provisions and fuel collected before the winter began. It set in with unusual seventy, and I believe that we should all have perished from cold, and damp, and snow, had we not been prepared, though I do not remember that the frost was hard at any time.“Some of the men abused their companions for going away without them.“‘Let be,’ said the mate; ‘all’s for the best. We don’t know where they are now, but we do know that we are not badly off, with a house, clothing, food, and firing. These islands are not so much out of the way, but what we are certain to get off some day or other, and in the meantime we have no cause to complain. Let us rather be thankful, and rejoice that we are so well off.’“I remembered those words of the mate afterwards. It is now my belief that the mate was a God-fearing man, but religion had been so unpopular among those with whom he had sailed, that he was afraid of declaring his opinions, and just went and hid his light under a bushel. What a world of good he might have done us all if he had spoken out manfully! As it was, all that precious time was lost. The mate did speak to me occasionally, but timidly, and I did not understand him. How should I? It was not till long afterwards, as Mr Morgan knows, that I became acquainted with Christianity. Before that I was as a heathen; I knew nothing of Christ, nothing of God. The winter passed away, the spring returned, and the summer drew on, and not a sail had been seen. All hands became anxious to get off, and from early dawn till nightfall the flag was kept flying, and one or more of the party were on the lookout from Flagstaff Hill. At length a sail hove in sight. Nearer and nearer she came. ‘Would our flag be seen?’ was now the question. The wind was off the shore, she tacked, she was beating up towards us. From her white canvas and the length of her yards she was pronounced to be a man-of-war corvette, and her ensign showed us that she was English. Some of the men declared that they would rather live the rest of their days on the island than go on board a man-of-war; but the mate told them that they were very foolish, and that if they did their duty they would be better treated than on board most merchantmen. I shared their fears, for I had heard all sorts of stones about the treatment of men on board men-of-war, which I have since found to be absurdly false. The end was that we all stood ready to receive the boat when she reached the beach. A lieutenant with a midshipman came in her. They were very much surprised to hear that we had been a whole year on shore, observing that we must have saved a good supply of provisions from the wreck. When the mate told them of the wild cattle, and that we could catch some, they begged us to do so, saying that the purser would purchase the meat from us for the ship’s company. They accordingly returned on board, but soon came back with the butcher, and by the next day we had six or eight fine animals ready for them. The officer kindly gave us permission to carry off any of our property which could be stowed away on board. From the considerate treatment the men received, they all volunteered into the service, and I was rated as a ship’s boy, and from that day to this have belonged to the Royal Navy of England. The mate was promised promotion if he would join.“‘At all events I do not wish to eat the bread of idleness,’ was his answer. ‘I’ll do duty in any station to which I am appointed.’“The corvette was bound round the Horn, so back again into the Pacific I went. We touched at many places in Chili and Peru, and then stood to the west to visit some of the many islands in those seas. I had been about a year on board when one day an object was seen from the mast-head, which was made out to be a boat.“There was one man sitting up in her, but three others lay dead under the thwarts. The man was brought on board more dead than alive, and had it not been for the watchful care of our surgeon he could not have long survived. At first he was nothing but skin and bone, with sunken eyes and hollow cheeks, but when he got some flesh on him I recognised him as one of my shipmates who had deserted us on the Falkland Islands. He had not, it seemed, discovered any of us, and of course in two years I was so grown that he did not know me. So one day, sitting by him, I asked him how it was he came into the plight in which we found him. He told me many circumstances of which I was cognisant, and how the ship was wrecked on the Falklands, and how part of the people had gone off into the interior, and deserted those who wisely remained on the sea-shore. ‘Never mind, they must have got their deserts, and perished,’ he added; and then he told me a ship appearing the day after we left, they had all gone on board. They soon found that the crew had been guilty of some foul deed; the captain and mate had been killed, with some others, and the rest had determined to turn pirates. My shipmate was asked if he would do so. They swore if he did not that he must die. To save his life, he with the rest consented to join them. I will not repeat the account he gave of all the crimes which he and his companions had committed. He said that he had protested against them, and excused himself. From bad they went on to worse, and frequently quarrelling, murdered each other. The end was that this ship was cast away on a reef, one boat only escaping, and of the people in her, after she had been nearly a month drifting over the ocean, he alone survived. We who had been left alone on the Falklands had reason to be thankful that we had not gone off in the pirate ship. Had we done so, who among us could have said that we should have escaped the terrible fate which overtook our shipmates? From the time I learned the Lord’s Prayer, there is no part I have repeated more earnestly than ‘Lead us not into temptation.’ My poor shipmate never completely recovered from the hardships to which he had been exposed; his mind, too, was always haunted with the dreadful scenes he had witnessed, and he often told me that he never could show his face in England, lest he should be recognised by those he had wronged. He died the day before we made the coast of England. The ship was paid off, but I found the naval service so much to my taste, and there was so little on shore to attract me, that I the next day joined another fitting out for the Indian station. After this, I visited in one ship or another most parts of the world. But I think, Doctor Morgan, you and your lady and the young gentlefolks will be getting tired, so I’ll put off an account of my adventures till another evening. One thing I must say now, though. I looked upon it as a blessed day on which I joined the ‘Rover,’ where I met Mister Morgan, and yet there was a day which I have reason to call still more blessed, when we were off the coast of Africa.”“Well, well, Tom. Don’t talk of that now,” said Frank. “I just did what every Christian man should do. I put the truth before you, and you believed it. I did not put myself to any inconvenience even to serve Tom, while he risked his life to save mine. That was after the ‘Rover’ had come home and been paid off, and we belonged to the ‘Kestrel,’ and were sent out to the Pacific. I had an idea before we went there that we were to find at all times calm seas and sunshine. I soon discovered my mistake. We were caught in a terrific gale when in the neighbourhood of coral islands and reefs. I had gone aloft to shorten sail, when the ship gave an unexpected lurch, and I was sent clean overboard. I felt that I must be lost, for the ship was driving away from me, and darkness was not far off, when I saw that some one had thrown a grating into the sea, and immediately afterwards a man leaped in after it.He was swimming towards me. There seemed a prospect of my being saved. Still, how the man who had thus nobly risked his life for my sake, and I could ever regain the ship, I could not tell. I struck out with all my strength to support myself, and prayed heartily. I soon recognised Tom Holman’s voice, cheering me up. He clutched me by the collar, and aided by him I gained the grating. Two or three spars had been thrown in after it, and, getting hold of them we formed a raft which supported us both. By the time we were seated on it the ship was far away, and it seemed impossible that in the dangerous neighbourhood in which I knew that we were, the captain would venture to return on the mere chance of finding us, should we indeed be alive. Our prospect outwardly was gloomy indeed, though we kept up hope. I was sorry when I thought that we should be lost; that Tom had, as I fancied, thrown away his life for my sake. However, we will not talk of that now. We were drifting, that was certain, and might drift on shore, or we might be driven against a reef, when we must be lost. It was now night, though there was light enough to distinguish the dark white-crested seas rising up around us, and the inky sky overhead. Still we knew that there was the Eye of Love looking down on us through that inky sky, and that though the rest of the world was shut out from us, we were not shut out from Him, without whose knowledge not a sparrow falls to the ground. I say this to you, dear father and mother, because I wish to show my brothers and sisters the effect of your teaching. I wished to live, but I was prepared to die. The water was warm, and as we had had supper just before I fell overboard we were not hungry, so that our physical sufferings were as yet not great. Hour after hour passed by; the raft drove on before the wind and sea. We supposed that it must be near dawn, for it seemed as if we had been two whole nights on the raft, when we both heard the sound of breakers. Our fate would soon thus be decided. As far as we were able, we gazed around when we reached the summit of a sea. There were the breakers; we could see the white foam flying up like a vast waterspout against the leaden sky. We were passing it though, not driving against it. A current was sweeping us on. The dawn broke. As the light increased our eyes fell on a grove of cocoa-nut trees, rising it seemed directly out of the water. The current was driving us near them. We sat up and eagerly watched the shore; we had of ourselves no means of forcing on the raft a point towards it, or in any degree faster than we were going. Had we been driven directly towards it, on the weather side, which, in our eagerness, we might have wished, we should probably have been dashed to pieces; but the current took us round to the lee side, and finally drifted us into a little bay where we safely got on shore. You already know how we lived luxuriously on cocoa-nuts and shell-fish, and about the clear fountain which rushed up out of the rock in the centre of our island, and how our ship came back after some weeks to water at that very fountain, and found us safe and well; and so I will bring my yarn to an end.”“We cannot be too thankful that you were preserved, my dear boy, when we hear of the terrific dangers to which you and your brave friend were exposed,” exclaimed Dr Morgan. “I will not now speak of our debt to him, never properly to be repaid, but I would point out to you all, my children (what struck me as Frank was speaking), how like the way in which he and Tom were preserved, is that in which God deals with His people who put their trust in Him. We are in an ocean of troubles, with darkness around us. We dimly discern breakers rising up on one side, breakers ahead. We can do nothing to help ourselves, except pray on and trust in Him. We see at length a haven of safety before us. Our eagerness gets the better of our faith, but the current of His mercy drifts round and away from what is really a peril, and we are carried on into calm waters, and find shelter and rest from danger and trouble.”Note 1. The author has a dear friend, a naval officer, who was, as is here described, the instrument of bringing some of his shipmates to a knowledge and acceptance of the truth; one especially, from being an infidel, became a faithful follower of Christ. His bones lie sepulchred under the eternal snows of the Arctic pole. How consolatory to believe, that amid the fearful sufferings that gallant band was called on to endure, he, with many others—it may be all—were supported by faith and hope to the last. We say all, for we cannot say what influence he and other Christian men may have exerted over their companions during the long, long years they passed in those Arctic regions ere they perished.
Frank was the life of the family in the drawing-room, and Tom interested and astonished the inmates of the kitchen with the accounts he gave them of his own adventures and his young officer’s exploits and gallant deeds. It is possible that some of his companions might have preferred hearing him sing a rollicking sea song, and seeing him dance a hornpipe, as most seamen are represented as doing on all possible occasions; but they soon found out that such was not Tom Holman’s way. He could talk, though, and laugh, and be very merry at times, and never seemed unhappy; and Mary Jones, Mrs Morgan’s old nurse, declared that he was the pleasantest, and nicest, and quietest, ay, and more than that, the best young man she had seen for many a day. Not that he was very young, for he was certainly over forty. Tom Holman was more than pleasant—he was an earnest, Christian seaman. Happily there are many such now-a-days, both in the Royal Navy and in the merchant service—men who are not ashamed of the Cross of Christ. Tom and Mrs Jones soon became fast friends, and it was through her that the way in which he and Frank first became intimate was known to Mrs Morgan and the rest of the family.
“You see, Mrs Jones,” said Tom, as he sat with her in the housekeeper’s room, “I was pretty well a castaway, without friends, without home, without any one to care for me, or show me the right course to sail on. I had got hold of some books, all about the rights of man, sneering at religion, and everything that was right, and noble, and holy; and in my ignorance I thought it all very fine, and had become a perfect infidel. All that sort of books writ by the devil’s devices have brought countless beings to destruction—of body as well as of soul. Our ship was on the coast of Africa, employed in looking after slavers, to try and put a stop to the slave trade. I entered warmly into the work, for I thought that it was a cruel shame that men, because they had white skins, more power, and maybe, more sense, should be allowed to carry off their fellow-men and hold them in bondage. I was appointed as coxswain of the boat commanded by Mr Morgan. Often we used to be sent away in her for days together from the ship, to lie in wait for slavers. The officers on such occasions used to allow us to talk pretty freely to one another and to express our minds. One day I said something which showed Mr Morgan what was in my mind—how dark and ignorant it was. He questioned me further, and found that I was an infidel, that I had no belief in God or in goodness, and that I was unhappy. Some officers would have cared nothing for this, or just abused me, called me a fool, and let me alone; others, who called themselves religious, would have cast me off as a reprobate. But Mr Morgan, whom I always thought only a good-natured, merry young gentleman, did neither; but he stuck to me like a friend. Day after day, and night after night, he talked to me, and reasoned with me, and read to me out of the blessed Gospel, for he never was without the Book of Life in all our expedition. (See Note 1.) Whenever he could get me alone he pleaded earnestly with me, as a friend, nay, as affectionately as a brother. In spite of myself, he made me listen to him, and I learned to love and respect him, even when I thought myself far wiser than he was. He persevered. I began to see how vile I was, how unlike a pure and holy God; and then he showed me the only way by which I could become fit to dwell with God. It seemed so plain, so simple, so beautiful, so unlike any idea man could conceive, that I, as it were, sprang to it, just as a drowning man springs to a rock, and clutching it, lifts himself up clear of the tangled weeds which are dragging him to destruction. From that moment I became a changed man, and gained a peace and happiness of which I knew nothing before.”
“Dr Morgan’s regards, and he hopes you’ll step into the dining-room, Mr Holman,” said the parlour-maid, opening the door.
Tom was soon seated among the family circle, his manner showing that he was perfectly at his ease without the slightest show of presumption.
“Tom, they want to hear about our adventures, and I’ve told them that I must have you present to confirm my account, lest they should suppose I am romancing,” said Frank, as Tom entered.
“They wouldn’t think that, Mr Morgan,” answered Tom. “But, however, I’ll take the helm for a spell if you get out of your right course.”
“I don’t doubt you, old shipmate,” said Frank. “But before I get under weigh with my yarn I want you to give them a few pages out of your log before you and I sailed together.”
Tom guessed what this request meant. “Well, sir, if your honourable father and mother and you wish it, I’ll tell you all I know about myself. For what I know to the contrary, I was born at sea. My first recollections were of a fearful storm on the ocean. We were tossing about in a boat. One of them, whom I for a long time afterwards thought was my father, had charge of me. He was a kind-hearted man, and looked after me most carefully. He went by the name of Jack Johnson, but sailors often change their names, especially if they have deserted, or have done anything for which they think that they may be punished. He always called me Tom, and I didn’t know that I had any other name till he told me that my name was Holman, that he had known my father, who was a very respectable man, who, with my mother, and many other people, had been lost at sea. He said that he had saved me, and that we, with a few others, were the only people who had escaped from the wreck. We had been picked up by a ship outward bound round the Horn. Two of the men died, the rest entered on board the whaler, and as the captain could not well pitch me overboard he was obliged to take me; for indeed Jack, who was the best seaman of the lot, refused to do duty unless I was put on the ship’s books for rations. It was a rough school for a child, but I throve in it, and learned many things, though some of them I had better not have learned. The captain seemed a stern and morose man, and for many months he took no notice of me; but one day as I was trying to climb up the rattlins of the lower shrouds I fell to the deck. He ran to me, lifted me up, and carrying me to his cabin, placed me on his own bed, and with an anxious countenance examined me all over to find where I was hurt. He rubbed my temples and hands, and Jack, who followed him into the cabin, said he looked quite pleased when I came to again. I was some weeks recovering, and he watched over me all the time with as much care as if I had been his own child.
“‘Ah! the man’s heart is in the right place, and I’d sooner sail with him than with many another softer-spoken gentleman I’ve fallen in with,’ remarked Jack one day after I had recovered.
“We heard from one of the crew, who had before sailed with the captain, that he had a little son of his own killed from falling on deck, and this it was which made him take to me.”
“Yes, God has implanted right and good feelings in the bosoms of all His creatures,” observed the Doctor. “But when they are neglected, and sin is allowed to get the better of them, they are destroyed. None of our hearts are in their right place, as the saying is. They are all by nature prone to ill. The same man who was doing you the kindness might in other ways have been grievously offending God.”
“Ay, sir, it might have been; but it would not become me to find fault with one who had rendered me so great a service,” said Tom. “After I was well, he used to have me into his cabin every day to teach me to read and write, and the little learning I ever had I gained from him. We had been out four years, and the ship had at last got a full cargo, and was on the point of returning home, when we fell in with another ship belonging to the same owners. The captain of her had died, and the first mate had been washed overboard, and so the supercargo invited our captain to take charge of her. As he had no wife nor children living at home, this he consented to do, and thus it happened that I remained out in the Pacific another four years. Tom for my sake went with him to the other ship. We were nearly full.
“‘One more fish, and then hurrah for old England, lads,’ sung out the captain, as three sperm whales were seen spouting from the mast-head.
“All the boats were immediately lowered. Jack was in the captain’s boat. Away they pulled from the ship in chase. Those sperm whales are sometimes dangerous creatures to hunt. We saw that the captain’s boat was fast, that is to say, he had struck the whale. Away went the boat, towed at a great rate. Suddenly she stopped—the whale rose. The captain pulled in to strike another harpoon into her. The monster reared her powerful tail and struck the boat a blow which split her clean in two. We had not a boat left to go to our shipmates’ assistance; the other boats were far away in other directions. The wind was light, but we were able to lay up towards the spot where the accident had occurred. We could at length see the wreck of the boat and two men clinging to her. I hoped that one might be Jack and the other the captain; for they were, I may well say, the only two people I cared for in the world, or who cared for me. Eagerly I looked out. ‘It’s Jem Rawlins and Peter Garvin,’ I heard some one say. My heart sank within me. Jem and Peter were got on board. They were, of all the crew, those I had the least reason to like. They told us that the poor captain had got the line entangled round his leg, and had been drawn down when the whale sounded, and that Jack had been killed by a blow from her tail. It seemed wonderful that they themselves should have escaped, considering the fury with which the whale attacked the boat. Thus was the last link broken which, as it were, connected me with my lost relations, and I might say that I had not a friend in the world. All I knew about myself was that Jack had saved me from the wreck of a ship called the ‘Dove,’ which, with my name, ‘Tom Holman,’ he had tattooed on my arm. He had also put into a tin case the belt I had on and one or two other little articles, which tin case was in his chest. It was unanimously agreed on board that I should be his heir, so I succeeded to the chest, the chief article of value in which was the tin case. I took it out, and have ever since preserved it carefully, though with little hope of finding it of use. I had become very fond of reading, and had read all the books in the captain’s cabin. There were not many of them, and there was not one which had religion in it, and I am very certain that there was not a Bible on board. I only knew that there was such a book from the captain, who had read it at home, and I heard him only a few days before his death regretting that he had not got one. I believe our ship was not worse than others, and to the best of my belief not one of the South Sea whalers we fell in with had a Bible on board. The crews, as a rule, were lawless reprobates, and the masters petty tyrants, who cared nothing for the men, provided they would work to get their ships full. We sailed for England by the way of Cape Horn. I wished to go there because I wished to see what sort of a country it was, and to enjoy the amusements of which I heard the men talking. We had a prosperous passage till we were in the latitude of the Falkland Islands, when we were caught in a heavy gale, and after knocking about for some time in thick weather, when no observation could be obtained, we found ourselves with breakers under our lee, and a rocky shore beyond. The masts were cut away and anchors let go, but to no purpose; the ship parting from her anchors was driven on the rocks. Nearly half the crew were washed away, and the rest of us succeeded in gaining the shore, soon after which the ship went to pieces, and all the cargo which we had toiled so hard to collect was returned to the sea from whence it was obtained. Very few provisions came on shore, but there was a fair supply of canvas and plenty of ropes. We at once therefore put up a tent for ourselves, and placed all our more valuable possessions under cover. With some spars which came on shore we formed a lofty flagstaff, on which we hoisted a flag, in the hope that it might be seen by some passing vessel. There were springs of good water near the shore, and as long as our provisions lasted we got on pretty well, but when they began to fail the men looked at each other and asked, ‘What next?’
“‘Oh, some ship must be passing soon, and will take us off,’ cried out two or three, who were unwilling to be placed on reduced rations.
“‘But suppose no ship does pass, lads, what will you do? I have to tell you that, with the greatest economy, our provisions will not last another ten days,’ said the first mate, who was now captain. ‘It is barren and sandy here, but maybe, if we push our way across the island, we may find a richer country, and some animals on which we may live.’
“Some agreed to the mate’s proposal, others determined to remain on the sea-shore. I accompanied the mate. The provisions were equally divided, and those who remained said they would try and catch some fish, in case theirs ran short.
“‘Try and catch them at once, then,’ said the mate; ‘don’t wait till you are starving.’
“In our party was a man who had been in South America, and could use the lasso with dexterity. He and another man fitted two lines for the purpose, in the hope of finding some wild animals. The rest laughed at them, declaring that in an island where there was not a tree to be seen, and only some long tufts of grass, it was not likely that we should find anything but snakes and lizards. We had made good some ten miles or so, when we came upon a scene of desolation such as I have seldom elsewhere met with. Far as the eye could reach the surface of the ground was one black mass of cinders. The men looked at each other.
“‘Little prospect of finding any animals hereabouts,’ observed one of the men.
“‘Not so sure of that,’ said the mate, kicking up the ashes with his foot. Under them appeared some blades of green grass just springing up.
“‘To my mind the fire has run across the island at this part, which seems to be somewhat narrow, for from the top of that rock I climbed I could make out the sea on either hand; and thus, you understand, it may have driven the animals, if there are any, over to the other parts beyond, where I hope we may find them.’
“‘But how is it that the animals didn’t run our way?’ asked one of the men.
“‘Because the country where we have been is barren and sandy, and they have gone to the opposite side, which is very different. To the best of my belief we shall find herds of wild cattle feeding on the other side if we bravely push on. Here goes, who’ll follow?’
“Saying this, the mate walked on quickly into the sea of cinders. I ran after him, and the rest followed. The mate supposed that the fire had occurred only a short time before we reached the island, and had been put out by the storm which had driven us on shore, or rather by the rain which accompanied it. We had to sleep that night in the middle of the cinders, without a drop of water to drink. Some of the men grumbled, but the mate told them that they ought to be thankful, because there was no chance of our being burned, which there might be if we were sleeping in the long grass.
“‘Ah, lads, every situation has its advantages, if we will but look for them,’ he remarked; and I have often since thought of that saying of his.
“On we went, the mate leading, the men often unwilling to proceed till he uttered a few words of encouragement. At last the sun’s rays, bursting out from between the clouds, fell on some green grass which clothed the side of a hill before us. It was a welcome sight; and still more welcome was the sight of a herd of cattle which appeared before us as we got clear of the burnt district. It was important not to frighten them. We advanced carefully, the two men with lassoes leading, hiding ourselves among rocks and bushes, and keeping to leeward of the herd. To our great satisfaction, the animals as they fed moved on towards us. Suddenly the men with the lassoes threw them round the neck of a cow, the nearest animal to us. We sprang forward, laying hold of the ends, one party hauling one way, one the other. In spite of all her violent struggles, we had her fast, and one of the men, rushing in, hamstrung her, and she was in our power. This capture raised our spirits, for we felt sure that we should never want food on the island, as we might catch the oxen in pitfalls if not with lassoes. The mate was asked how he came to suppose that there were cattle on the island.
“‘Just because a shipmate, in whose word I could trust, told me he had seen them,’ was the answer. ‘What better reason for believing a thing would you require?’
“We camped where we were, and the South American showed us how to cut up the heifer and to dry the meat in the sun, so that we had as much pure meat as each of us could carry. As our companions had enough food for some days longer, the mate wished to see more of the island before returning. We saw several large herds of cattle, which fed on the long grass covering the face of the country, which was generally undulating. We were several days away, and as we caught sight of the flagstaff, we thought of the pleasure the supply of meat we had brought would afford our companions. We saw the tents, but no one came to meet us. We shouted, but there was no shout in return. We feared that they might be ill, or even dead. We reached the tent, but no one was within; we looked about, we could find no one. The mate was looking seaward. He pointed to the offing, where, sinking below the horizon, the white sail of a ship was seen. It was more than probable that our shipmates had gone in her, but whether with their own will or carried off by force we could not conjecture. Some of the men were very angry, but the mate observed that was wrong. Our shipmates, probably, could not help themselves. They might have supposed we should not return, and, if they had gone with their own will, might have been unable to leave any message for us. The mate was a truly charitable man, for he was anxious to put the best construction on the conduct of our shipmates. There, however, we were left, with a diminished party, with the possibility that another ship might not approach the coast for many months to come. The summer was drawing to a close. It had been somewhat damp and cold, and we expected that the winter would be proportionally severe.
“‘We may get off, but we may possibly have to stay; and if we are wise, lads, we shall prepare for the worst,’ said the mate; and telling the men what would be wanted, forthwith began the work he advised.
“We were to build a couple of huts, to cut and dry turf for fuel, and to kill some cattle and prepare the flesh; to hunt for vegetables or herbs, which might keep off scurvy, and to do various other things.
“‘Example is better than precept, Tom, as you will find,’ observed the mate to me. ‘I never tell men to do what I am not ready to do myself. That’s the reason they obey me so willingly.’
“I’ve ever since remembered the mate’s words, and told them to Mr Morgan; and I am sure he never orders men to do what he is not ready to try and do himself if necessary. It was fortunate for all that the mate’s advice was followed. Some comfortable huts were got up, and a store of provisions and fuel collected before the winter began. It set in with unusual seventy, and I believe that we should all have perished from cold, and damp, and snow, had we not been prepared, though I do not remember that the frost was hard at any time.
“Some of the men abused their companions for going away without them.
“‘Let be,’ said the mate; ‘all’s for the best. We don’t know where they are now, but we do know that we are not badly off, with a house, clothing, food, and firing. These islands are not so much out of the way, but what we are certain to get off some day or other, and in the meantime we have no cause to complain. Let us rather be thankful, and rejoice that we are so well off.’
“I remembered those words of the mate afterwards. It is now my belief that the mate was a God-fearing man, but religion had been so unpopular among those with whom he had sailed, that he was afraid of declaring his opinions, and just went and hid his light under a bushel. What a world of good he might have done us all if he had spoken out manfully! As it was, all that precious time was lost. The mate did speak to me occasionally, but timidly, and I did not understand him. How should I? It was not till long afterwards, as Mr Morgan knows, that I became acquainted with Christianity. Before that I was as a heathen; I knew nothing of Christ, nothing of God. The winter passed away, the spring returned, and the summer drew on, and not a sail had been seen. All hands became anxious to get off, and from early dawn till nightfall the flag was kept flying, and one or more of the party were on the lookout from Flagstaff Hill. At length a sail hove in sight. Nearer and nearer she came. ‘Would our flag be seen?’ was now the question. The wind was off the shore, she tacked, she was beating up towards us. From her white canvas and the length of her yards she was pronounced to be a man-of-war corvette, and her ensign showed us that she was English. Some of the men declared that they would rather live the rest of their days on the island than go on board a man-of-war; but the mate told them that they were very foolish, and that if they did their duty they would be better treated than on board most merchantmen. I shared their fears, for I had heard all sorts of stones about the treatment of men on board men-of-war, which I have since found to be absurdly false. The end was that we all stood ready to receive the boat when she reached the beach. A lieutenant with a midshipman came in her. They were very much surprised to hear that we had been a whole year on shore, observing that we must have saved a good supply of provisions from the wreck. When the mate told them of the wild cattle, and that we could catch some, they begged us to do so, saying that the purser would purchase the meat from us for the ship’s company. They accordingly returned on board, but soon came back with the butcher, and by the next day we had six or eight fine animals ready for them. The officer kindly gave us permission to carry off any of our property which could be stowed away on board. From the considerate treatment the men received, they all volunteered into the service, and I was rated as a ship’s boy, and from that day to this have belonged to the Royal Navy of England. The mate was promised promotion if he would join.
“‘At all events I do not wish to eat the bread of idleness,’ was his answer. ‘I’ll do duty in any station to which I am appointed.’
“The corvette was bound round the Horn, so back again into the Pacific I went. We touched at many places in Chili and Peru, and then stood to the west to visit some of the many islands in those seas. I had been about a year on board when one day an object was seen from the mast-head, which was made out to be a boat.
“There was one man sitting up in her, but three others lay dead under the thwarts. The man was brought on board more dead than alive, and had it not been for the watchful care of our surgeon he could not have long survived. At first he was nothing but skin and bone, with sunken eyes and hollow cheeks, but when he got some flesh on him I recognised him as one of my shipmates who had deserted us on the Falkland Islands. He had not, it seemed, discovered any of us, and of course in two years I was so grown that he did not know me. So one day, sitting by him, I asked him how it was he came into the plight in which we found him. He told me many circumstances of which I was cognisant, and how the ship was wrecked on the Falklands, and how part of the people had gone off into the interior, and deserted those who wisely remained on the sea-shore. ‘Never mind, they must have got their deserts, and perished,’ he added; and then he told me a ship appearing the day after we left, they had all gone on board. They soon found that the crew had been guilty of some foul deed; the captain and mate had been killed, with some others, and the rest had determined to turn pirates. My shipmate was asked if he would do so. They swore if he did not that he must die. To save his life, he with the rest consented to join them. I will not repeat the account he gave of all the crimes which he and his companions had committed. He said that he had protested against them, and excused himself. From bad they went on to worse, and frequently quarrelling, murdered each other. The end was that this ship was cast away on a reef, one boat only escaping, and of the people in her, after she had been nearly a month drifting over the ocean, he alone survived. We who had been left alone on the Falklands had reason to be thankful that we had not gone off in the pirate ship. Had we done so, who among us could have said that we should have escaped the terrible fate which overtook our shipmates? From the time I learned the Lord’s Prayer, there is no part I have repeated more earnestly than ‘Lead us not into temptation.’ My poor shipmate never completely recovered from the hardships to which he had been exposed; his mind, too, was always haunted with the dreadful scenes he had witnessed, and he often told me that he never could show his face in England, lest he should be recognised by those he had wronged. He died the day before we made the coast of England. The ship was paid off, but I found the naval service so much to my taste, and there was so little on shore to attract me, that I the next day joined another fitting out for the Indian station. After this, I visited in one ship or another most parts of the world. But I think, Doctor Morgan, you and your lady and the young gentlefolks will be getting tired, so I’ll put off an account of my adventures till another evening. One thing I must say now, though. I looked upon it as a blessed day on which I joined the ‘Rover,’ where I met Mister Morgan, and yet there was a day which I have reason to call still more blessed, when we were off the coast of Africa.”
“Well, well, Tom. Don’t talk of that now,” said Frank. “I just did what every Christian man should do. I put the truth before you, and you believed it. I did not put myself to any inconvenience even to serve Tom, while he risked his life to save mine. That was after the ‘Rover’ had come home and been paid off, and we belonged to the ‘Kestrel,’ and were sent out to the Pacific. I had an idea before we went there that we were to find at all times calm seas and sunshine. I soon discovered my mistake. We were caught in a terrific gale when in the neighbourhood of coral islands and reefs. I had gone aloft to shorten sail, when the ship gave an unexpected lurch, and I was sent clean overboard. I felt that I must be lost, for the ship was driving away from me, and darkness was not far off, when I saw that some one had thrown a grating into the sea, and immediately afterwards a man leaped in after it.He was swimming towards me. There seemed a prospect of my being saved. Still, how the man who had thus nobly risked his life for my sake, and I could ever regain the ship, I could not tell. I struck out with all my strength to support myself, and prayed heartily. I soon recognised Tom Holman’s voice, cheering me up. He clutched me by the collar, and aided by him I gained the grating. Two or three spars had been thrown in after it, and, getting hold of them we formed a raft which supported us both. By the time we were seated on it the ship was far away, and it seemed impossible that in the dangerous neighbourhood in which I knew that we were, the captain would venture to return on the mere chance of finding us, should we indeed be alive. Our prospect outwardly was gloomy indeed, though we kept up hope. I was sorry when I thought that we should be lost; that Tom had, as I fancied, thrown away his life for my sake. However, we will not talk of that now. We were drifting, that was certain, and might drift on shore, or we might be driven against a reef, when we must be lost. It was now night, though there was light enough to distinguish the dark white-crested seas rising up around us, and the inky sky overhead. Still we knew that there was the Eye of Love looking down on us through that inky sky, and that though the rest of the world was shut out from us, we were not shut out from Him, without whose knowledge not a sparrow falls to the ground. I say this to you, dear father and mother, because I wish to show my brothers and sisters the effect of your teaching. I wished to live, but I was prepared to die. The water was warm, and as we had had supper just before I fell overboard we were not hungry, so that our physical sufferings were as yet not great. Hour after hour passed by; the raft drove on before the wind and sea. We supposed that it must be near dawn, for it seemed as if we had been two whole nights on the raft, when we both heard the sound of breakers. Our fate would soon thus be decided. As far as we were able, we gazed around when we reached the summit of a sea. There were the breakers; we could see the white foam flying up like a vast waterspout against the leaden sky. We were passing it though, not driving against it. A current was sweeping us on. The dawn broke. As the light increased our eyes fell on a grove of cocoa-nut trees, rising it seemed directly out of the water. The current was driving us near them. We sat up and eagerly watched the shore; we had of ourselves no means of forcing on the raft a point towards it, or in any degree faster than we were going. Had we been driven directly towards it, on the weather side, which, in our eagerness, we might have wished, we should probably have been dashed to pieces; but the current took us round to the lee side, and finally drifted us into a little bay where we safely got on shore. You already know how we lived luxuriously on cocoa-nuts and shell-fish, and about the clear fountain which rushed up out of the rock in the centre of our island, and how our ship came back after some weeks to water at that very fountain, and found us safe and well; and so I will bring my yarn to an end.”
“We cannot be too thankful that you were preserved, my dear boy, when we hear of the terrific dangers to which you and your brave friend were exposed,” exclaimed Dr Morgan. “I will not now speak of our debt to him, never properly to be repaid, but I would point out to you all, my children (what struck me as Frank was speaking), how like the way in which he and Tom were preserved, is that in which God deals with His people who put their trust in Him. We are in an ocean of troubles, with darkness around us. We dimly discern breakers rising up on one side, breakers ahead. We can do nothing to help ourselves, except pray on and trust in Him. We see at length a haven of safety before us. Our eagerness gets the better of our faith, but the current of His mercy drifts round and away from what is really a peril, and we are carried on into calm waters, and find shelter and rest from danger and trouble.”
Note 1. The author has a dear friend, a naval officer, who was, as is here described, the instrument of bringing some of his shipmates to a knowledge and acceptance of the truth; one especially, from being an infidel, became a faithful follower of Christ. His bones lie sepulchred under the eternal snows of the Arctic pole. How consolatory to believe, that amid the fearful sufferings that gallant band was called on to endure, he, with many others—it may be all—were supported by faith and hope to the last. We say all, for we cannot say what influence he and other Christian men may have exerted over their companions during the long, long years they passed in those Arctic regions ere they perished.