It is interesting to observe the curious, and oftentimes unlikely, ways
in which the guilt of man is brought to light, and the truth of that
word demonstrated--"Be sure your sin shall find you out."
Although John Gunter's heart was softened at the time of his old
skipper's death, it was by no means changed, so that, after a brief
space, it became harder than ever, and the man who had been melted--to
some extent washed--returned, ere long, with increased devotion to his
wallowing in the mire. This made him so disagreeable to his old
comrades, that they became anxious to get rid of him, but Joe Davidson,
whose disposition was very hopeful, hesitated; and the widow, having a
kindly feeling towards the man because he had sailed with her husband,
did not wish him to be dismissed.
Thus it came to pass that when Captain Bream joined the Short Blue fleet
he was still a member of the crew of the new _Evening Star_.
The day following that on which the captain arrived was Sunday, and, as
usual, the smacks whose skippers had become followers of the Lord Jesus
began to draw towards the mission-ship with their Bethel-flags flying.
Among them was the new admiral--Joe of the _Evening Star_. His vessel
was pointed out, of course, to the captain as she approached. We need
scarcely say that he looked at her with unusual interest, and was glad
when her boat was lowered to row part of her crew to the service about
to be held in the hold of the gospel-ship.
It was natural that Captain Bream should be much taken with the simple
cheery manners of the admiral, as he stepped aboard and shook hands all
round. It was equally natural that he should take some interest, also,
in John Gunter, for was it not obvious that that worthy was a fine
specimen of the gruff, half-savage, raw material which he had gone out
there to work upon?
"Why did you not bring Billy, Joe?" asked the skipper of the mission
vessel.
"Well, you know, we had to leave some one to look after the smack, an' I
left Luke Trevor, as he said he'd prefer to come to evenin' service, an'
Billy said he'd like to stay with Luke."
By this time a number of boats had put their rough-clad crews on the
deck, and already a fair congregation was mustered. Shaking of hands,
salutations, question and reply, were going briskly on all round, with
here and there a little mild chaffing, and occasionally a hearty laugh,
while now and then the fervent "thank God" and "praise the Lord"
revealed the spirits of the speakers.
"You mentioned the name of Billy just now," said Captain Bream, drawing
Joe Davidson aside. "Is he a man or a boy?"
"He's a boy, sir, though he don't like to be reminded o' the fact," said
Joe with a laugh. "He's the son of our skipper who was drowned--an' a
good boy he is, though larky a bit. But that don't do him no harm,
bless ye."
"I wonder," returned the captain, "if he is the boy some lady friends of
mine are so fond of, who was sent up to London some time ago to--"
"That's him, sir," interrupted Joe; "it was Billy as was sent to Lun'on;
by the wish of a Miss Ruth Pont-rap-me, or some such name. I never can
remember it rightly, but she's awful fond o' the fisher-folks."
"Ah, I know Miss Ruth Dotropy also," said the captain. "Strange that I
should find this Billy that they're all so fond of in the new _Evening
Star_. I must pay your smack a visit soon, Davidson, for I have a
particular interest in her."
"I'll be proud to see you aboard her, sir," returned Joe. "Won't you
come after service? The calm will last a good while, I think."
"Well, perhaps I may."
The conversation was interrupted here by a general move to the vessel's
hold, where the usual arrangements had been made--a table for a pulpit
and fish-boxes for seats.
"Do you feel well enough to speak to us to-day, Captain Bream?" asked
the skipper of the mission-ship.
"Oh yes, I'll be happy to do so. The trip out has begun to work wonders
already," said the captain.
Now, the truth of that proverb, "One man may take a horse to the water,
but ten men can't make him drink," is very often illustrated in the
course of human affairs. You may even treat a donkey in the same way,
and the result will be similar.
Joe Davidson had brought John Gunter to the mission-ship in the earnest
hope that he would drink at the gospel fountain, but, after having got
him there, Joe found that, so far from drinking, Gunter would not even
go down to the services at all. On this occasion he said that he
preferred to remain on deck, and smoke his pipe.
Unknown to all the world, save himself, John Gunter was at that time in
a peculiarly unhappy state of mind. His condition was outwardly
manifested in the form of additional surliness.
"You're like a bear with a sore head," Spivin had said to him when in
the boat on the way to the service.
"More like a black-face baboon wid de cholera," said Zulu.
Invulnerable alike to chaff and to earnest advice, Gunter sat on the
fore-hatch smoking, while psalms of praise were rising from the hold.
Now, it was the little silver watch which caused all this trouble to
Gunter. Bad as the man was, he had never been an absolute thief, until
the night on which he had robbed Ruth Dotropy. The horror depicted in
her pretty, innocent face when he stopped her had left an impression on
his mind which neither recklessness nor drink could remove, and
thankfully would he have returned the watch if he had known the young
lady's name or residence. Moreover, he was so inexperienced and timid
in this new line of life, that he did not know how to turn the watch
into cash with safety, and had no place in which to conceal it. On the
very day about which we write, seeing the Coper not far off, the unhappy
man had thrust the watch into his trousers pocket with the intention of
bartering it with the Dutchman for rum, if he should get the chance.
Small chance indeed, with Joe Davidson for his skipper! but there is no
accounting for the freaks of the guilty.
The watch was now metaphorically burning a hole in Gunter's pocket, and,
that pocket being somewhat similar in many respects to the pockets of
average schoolboys, Ruth's pretty little watch lay in company with a few
coppers, a bit of twine, a broken clasp-knife, two buttons, a short
pipe, a crumpled tract of the Mission to Deep-Sea Fishermen, and a
half-finished quid of tobacco.
But although John Gunter would not drink of his own free-will, he could
not easily avoid the water of life that came rushing to him up the
hatchway and filled his ears. It came to him first, as we have said, in
song; and the words of the hymn, "Sinner, list to the loving call,"
passed not only his outer and inner ear, but dropped into his soul and
disturbed him.
Then he got a surprise when Captain Bream's voice resounded through the
hold,--there was something so very deep and metallic about it, yet so
tender and musical. But the greatest surprise of all came when the
captain, without a word of preface or statement as to where his text was
to be found, looked his expectant audience earnestly in the face, and
said slowly, "Thou shalt not steal."
Poor Captain Bream! nothing was further from his thoughts than the idea
that any one listening to him was actually a thief! but he had made up
his mind to press home, with the Spirit's blessing, the great truth that
the man who refuses to accept salvation in Jesus Christ robs God of the
love and honour that are His due; robs his wife and children and
fellow-men of the good example and Christian service which he was fitted
and intended to exert, and robs himself, so to speak, of Eternal Life.
The captain's arguments had much weight in the hold, but they had no
weight on deck. Many of his shafts of reason were permitted to pierce
the tough frames of the rugged men before him, and lodge with good
influence in tender hearts, but they all fell pointless on the deck
above. It was the pure unadulterated Word of God, "without note or
comment," that was destined that day to penetrate the iron heart of John
Gunter, and sink down into his soul. "_Thou shalt not steal_!" That
was all of the sermon that Gunter heard; the rest fell on deaf ears, for
these words continued to burn into his very soul. Influenced by the new
and deep feelings that had been aroused in him, he pulled the watch from
his pocket with the intention of hurling it into the sea, but the
thought that he would still deserve to be called a _thief_ caused him to
hesitate.
"Hallo! Gunter, what pretty little thing is that you've got?"
The words were uttered by Dick Herring of the _White Cloud_, who, being
like-minded with John, had remained on deck like him to smoke and
lounge.
"You've got no business wi' that," growled Gunter, as he closed his hand
on the watch, and thrust it back into his pocket.
"I didn't say I had, mate," retorted Herring, with a puff of contempt,
which at the same time emptied his mouth and his spirit.
Herring said no more; but when the service was over, and the men were
chatting about the deck, he quietly mentioned what he had seen, and some
of the waggish among the crew came up to Gunter and asked him, with
significant looks and laughs, what time o' day it was.
At first Gunter replied in his wonted surly manner; but at last, feeling
that the best way would be to put a bold face on the matter, he said
with an off-hand laugh--
"Herring thinks he's made a wonderful discovery, but surely there's
nothing very strange in a man buyin' a little watch for his sweetheart."
"You don't mean to say that _you_ have a sweetheart do you?" said a
youth of about seventeen, who had a tendency to be what is styled
cheeky.
Gunter turned on him with contempt. "Well, now," he replied, "if I had
a smooth baby-face like yours I would _not_ say as I had, but bein' a
man, you see, I may ventur' to say that I have."
"Come, Gunter, you're too hard on 'im," cried Spivin; "I don't believe
you've bought a watch for her at all; at least if you have, it must be a
pewter one."
Thus taunted, Gunter resolved to carry out the bold line of action.
"What d'ee call that?" he cried, pulling out the watch and holding it up
to view.
Captain Bream chanced to be an amused witness of this little scene, but
his expression changed to one of amazement when he beheld the peculiar
and unmistakable watch which, years before, he had given to Ruth
Dotropy's father. Recovering himself quickly he stepped forward.
"A very pretty little thing," he said, "and looks uncommonly like
silver. Let me see it."
He held out his hand, and Gunter gave it to him without the slightest
suspicion, of course, that he knew anything about it. "Yes, undoubtedly
it is silver, and a very curious style of article too," continued the
captain in a low off-hand tone. "You've no objection to my taking it to
the cabin to look at it more carefully?"
Of course Gunter had no objection, though a sensation of uneasiness
arose within him, especially when Captain Bream asked him to go below
with him, and whispered to Joe Davidson in a low tone, as he passed him,
to shut the cabin skylight.
No sooner were they below, with the cabin-door shut, than the captain
looked steadily in the man's face, and said--
"Gunter, you stole this watch from a young lady in Yarmouth."
An electric shock could not have more effectually stunned the convicted
fisherman. He gazed at the captain in speechless surprise. Then his
fists clenched, a rush of blood came to his face, and a fierce oath rose
to his white lips as he prepared to deny the charge.
"Stop!" said the captain, impressively, and there was nothing of
severity or indignation in his voice or look. "Don't commit yourself,
Gunter. See, I place the watch on this table. If you bought it to give
to your sweetheart, take it up. If you stole it from a pretty young
lady in one of the rows of Yarmouth some months ago, and would now wish
me to restore it to her--for I know her and the watch well--let it lie."
Gunter looked at the captain, then at the watch, and hesitated. Then
his head drooped, and in a low voice he said--
"I am guilty, sir."
Without a word more, Captain Bream laid his hand on the poor man's
shoulder and pressed it. Gunter knew well what was meant. He went down
on his knees. The captain kneeled beside him, and in a deep, intensely
earnest voice, claimed forgiveness of the sin that had been confessed,
and prayed that the sinner's soul might be there and then cleansed in
the precious blood of Jesus.
John Gunter was completely broken down; tears rolled over his cheeks,
and it required all his great physical strength to enable him to keep
down the sobs that well-nigh choked him.
Fishermen of the North Sea are tough. Their eyes are not easily made to
swell or look red by salt water, whether it come from the ocean without
or the mightier ocean within. When Gunter had risen from his knees and
wiped his eyes with the end of a comforter, which had probably been
worked under the superintendence of Ruth herself; there were no signs of
emotion left--only a subdued look in his weatherworn face.
"I give myself up, sir," he said, "to suffer what punishment is due."
"No punishment is due, my man. Jesus has borne all the punishment due
to you and me. In regard to man, you have restored that which you took
away, and well do I know that the young lady--like her Master--forgives
freely. I will return the watch to her. You can go back to your
comrades--nobody shall ever hear more about this. If they chaff you, or
question you, just say nothing, and smile at them."
"But--but, sir," said Gunter, moving uneasily.
"I ain't used to smilin'. I--I've bin so used to look gruff that--"
"Look gruff, then, my man," interrupted the captain, himself unable to
repress a smile. "If you're not gruff in your heart, it won't matter
much what you look like. Just look gruff, an' keep your mouth shut, and
they'll soon let you alone."
Acting on this advice, John Gunter returned to his mates looking
gruffer, if possible, and more taciturn than ever, but radically
changed, from that hour, in soul and spirit.