CHAPTER VIII.THE ANCHOR WITHIN THE VEIL.
Whywas it, it is time to ask, that there was not a greater clamouring after escape, both among passengers and crew? Why was it, that when all on board knew that the ship was doomed, and that at any moment the deep might open to swallow them up, there was not that wild delirium and agony of despair which we have been accustomed to see associated with such considerations? To understand this in some measure, we must take a glance at what had transpired in the saloon of the vessel from the commencement of the voyage.
The saloon of theLondonhad been constructed with the strictest regard to the comfort of her first-class passengers; nor had their tastes been disregarded if they had any admiration of what was elegant and chaste in workmanship. Here there would be throughout the voyage a common meeting ground for members of the same class amongst ladies and gentlemen; and here religious services would be conducted on the Sabbath, at which all on board might be present.
On the first Sunday out there was a religious service, and Dr. Woolley associated with Mr. Draper in conducting it. Both these gentlemen were known to each other, and, although belonging to different sections of the church, had many friends in common, by some of whom, experienced in similar voyages, the steamer in which they were to return to Australia, and the cabins they had taken, were inspected and approved. From Mr. Draper’s known characteristics it may be affirmed as a certainty, although as yet no record of it has reached us, that as, on their very first Sunday out, they encountered heavyweather,—a strong wind having sprung up and a heavy sea,—he would find matter for religious instruction applicable to their circumstances. And we cannot tell how largely the divine blessing may have accompanied the religious services of the day. If it be true that before the barren fig-tree is cut down, the influences and means used to quicken it into life and fruitfulness are more than doubled, may we not say that He to whom all things were known, and who saw the end from the beginning, vouchsafed a more than ordinary blessing to the gospel declared to more than two hundred who were spending their last Sabbath on earth?
On Monday, there being no abatement in the violence of the weather, but, on the contrary, the storm rather heightening in force, the ladies and passengers generally would keep their cabins, or meet for conversation in the saloon. On Monday we know that many on board felt more fear than they did on subsequent days when the first shock of the tempest had worn away, and they had become accustomed to a hurricane that never changed but for the worse. There were, we know, several on board who had been professed Christians for years. There was one who had, we believe, two brothers in the ministry, and who was a spiritually-minded man himself. There was another who was the son of a very distinguished Minister of Christ, and who was himself a devoted Christian. There was a young woman who had just left service in Suffolk, and who had written a letter while on board to a Christian friend, which went to shew the reality of her religious life. There were many who were in the habit of reading their Bibles daily.
We mention these as types of the different classes composing the passengers, and as illustrative of the fact, that over the vessel there was spread a goodly number of personswho were not ashamed to own their Lord, and who, when they saw the clouds of distress gathering around their fellow-passengers, would be able, and, as we have heard, would be certain to be all the more earnest and useful and kind in proportion to the distress they saw exhibited. That during the fearful gale which sprung up on Monday night there would be distress and fear of the direst kind we make no doubt, but we gather comfort from the fact, that the example and exhortations of the godly would not be without their salutary and soothing influence.
Directly, we hear nothing of Mr. Draper’s exertions until Wednesday, from which time until the vessel went down he was incessant in his ministrations; but, as we hear of groups of children looking up with wonderment into the frightened faces of their mothers, of ladies reading the Bible to each other, and of individual passengers turning over its leaves as if in search of passages that would be suitable to their condition, of husbands sustaining wives by their constant presence,—we may be sure that the man who was as loving to his fellows as he was faithful to his Master had already lost all thought of self in the work of imparting consolation and instruction in the awful circumstances in which those especially were placed who had now for the first time to begin to think seriously of the claims of religion.
“From all I have heard respecting him,” writes the Hon. Mr. McArthur, “self seems to have been altogether lost sight of. Nor does it appear that he paid any special attention to his beloved wife, to whom he was most ardently and devotedly attached, but his whole heart and mind seem to have been engaged in the great work of endeavouring to lead those by whom he was surrounded to flee for refuge to the only hope set before them.” Nor though we do not hear so much of Dr.Woolley as we do of Mr. Draper throughout the appalling calamity, are we therefore to suppose that he was untrue to his sacred calling, and to the loving instincts of a very kindly heart. Had the facts of his life been before us, we should doubtless have been able to speak of him with as much length as we have of the Wesleyan preacher. One who evidently knew and loved him has said, “Not much is said about him; but we know in what manner he would die and help others to die. His public career may be told in other ways, but this one word is in remembrance of the man himself—the good man—John Woolley.”
On Wednesday, as we have said, the testimony concerning Mr. Draper’s efforts, and the results attending them, is clear and decisive. Prayer and religious instruction had become general, and the saloon was transformed into a sanctuary, from whence ascended the voice of supplication and weeping to Him who was alone able to save. There were earnest wrestlings of soul amongst those who felt themselves face to face either with heaven or hell. It was hard to feel all at once that theymustdie, that there could be no escape. It was hard for the newly-married of a week only to feel that all the joys and hopes of life must be ruthlessly terminated. It was hard for all who had formed their plans for the future, or who had just left in England those whom they held so dear, or who had brought their little children out with them intending to settle in a new home,—very hard for all to be told with a decisiveness which there was no gainsaying, that theymustdie. And no wonder that in the first burst of agony which this conviction brought with it, many gathered round the Minister, crying, “Pray with me, Mr. Draper. Pray for me, Mr. Draper.”
And hedidpray. Those who knew him have much to tell of his power in prayer, of it being the effectual and ferventsupplication of a man, “who was as sure of answer as if voices from heaven told him he was heard.” Happy indeed the man, who seeing death written in every face, and surrounded by the weeping and conscience-stricken, had no time and no disposition to care for himself, in the Christ-like work of caring for others. As he drew nearer to Heaven, he had yet deeper fellowship with the sufferings of that blessed Master he served, who, while hanging upon the cross, had leisure to think of all wants but His own. The Master saved others; Himself he could not save.
All Wednesday, as we have seen, the storm raged with incessant fury. The passengers below heard and felt with bated breath that tremendous sea break over the vessel by which the cutter was stove in and the starboard lifeboat carried away. The passengers in the saloon must have felt the shock in all its terrible might, for it broke against their quarter of the ship; and perhaps it was then, when all expected that they were going down, that Mr. Draper was heard praying, “O God, may those that are not converted be converted now—hundreds of them.” This prayer went up again and again during that stormy day.
Again there was a crash overhead, and those below heard to their dismay that the main hatchway had been swept away. There was the rushing of water heard pouring down into the engine room; there was the Captain’s voice heard shouting through the storm, and the responsive cry of the crew. “Prepare to meet your God. Prepare to meet your God!” This was the solemn admonition of the minister throughout the day and night.
At twelve o’clock that night there was a prayer-meeting in the saloon, which was attended by all who could be spared from their duties on deck. A marvellous meeting indeed itmust have been, in which strong cries and tears went up to Him whose word was pledged that He would not turn away his ear from the voice of prayer; that He would listen to the cry of the afflicted.
And did He not listen? Did He not answer? We would humbly hope that the prayers presented were not the offspring of mere natural terror, but the utterances of broken and contrite spirits. On Thursday morning a wondrous calmness had taken possession of all hearts. There were no agonizing shrieks and screams, no delirious efforts to escape from their doom. The prayer-meeting, and the prayers of the last three days had done their work. Something stronger and holier than love of mere natural life had taken possession of many hearts. Their’s was the victory which had overcome death, even their faith. Not even when the Captain entered the saloon, and sadly announced that there was no hope, did their calmness and resignation forsake them. “Let us pray,” Mr. Draper said, and then they quietly prayed by themselves. Shortly afterwards the minister said with great kindliness, “Well, my friends, our Captain tells us there is no hope, but the Great Captain above tells us there is hope, and that we may all get safe to heaven.” Blessed truth! we have no doubt that it went home to the hearts of many. Friends began to take leave of friends, as if preparing for a long journey. Husbands, wives, and children clung to each other as if death itself should never divide them. And, clinging to each other, and, we trust, to Christ, they calmly waited for the sea to swallow them up, amid all the excitement of launching the port cutter.
“CONSOLATION IN THE HOUR OF PERIL.”
“CONSOLATION IN THE HOUR OF PERIL.”