"Yessir. On the books I am, sir."
"You mean you have no religion?"
Dunn blew hard into the bowl of his pipe and replaced the mouthpiece
between his jagged teeth. "Not that sort quite, sir--but I'm all
right, sir."
The _padre_ moved a little bit nearer along the keel. The pinnace was
certainly deep in the water now, but his mind was at ease and he did
not feel the cold. "Listen, Dunn," he said; "I am going to pray--I
want you to repeat what I say after me."
Dunn moved his hands from under his chin and took his pipe from his
mouth. "Yessir," he said.
The _padre_ paused a moment and looked at the long blue slope of a sea
rising above his eyes. He wondered vaguely why he was not feeling
sea-sick. "O God, Who made the sea and all that therein is, have mercy
on us Thy servants called to-day to Thy judgment-seat. Pardon us the
manifold sins we have committed, and lead us to a true repentance; and
to us, who have in the past neglected Thee in our hearts, send light
and strength that we may come without fear before Thy throne. Have
pity, O Lord, upon those who are made widows and orphans this day.
Grant to our country final victory and Thy peace. Amen."
The sun was behind clouds now, and the seas were washing occasionally
along the sinking boat.
"You did not join me in the prayer, Dunn," he said. "Was it not within
the scheme of your religion?"
Dunn put his pipe carefully back in his jumper and took a firmer grip
of the keel. "Yes, sir," he said, "it was--but I don't whine when I'm
down."
"Do you mean I was whining, Dunn?"
"No, sir, I don't. You've always prayed and you're not going back on
anything. I don't go much on Church, and God wouldn't think nothing of
me if I piped down now."
The _padre_ was, as has been said, a young man, and being young he did
the right thing and waited for more. It came with a rush.
"You see, sir, it's God this, and God that, and no one knows what God
is like, but I'm a Navy man and I think of Him my way. If I'm not
afraid to die I'm all right, I think, sir. It wasn't my fault the ship
sank, sir. I've always kept my job done, and I've got 'Exceptional' on
my parchment. When I joined up I took the chance of this, and I ain't
kicking now it's come. I reckon if a man plays the game by his
messmates, and fights clean in the ring, and takes a pride, like, in
his job--well, it ain't for me to say, but I don't think God'll do
much to me. He'll say, 'Jack,' He'll say, 'you've got a lot of things
against you here, but you ain't shirked your work and you aren't
afraid of Me--so pass in with a caution,' He'll say. You're all right,
sir, and it may be because you're a good Christian; but I reckon, sir,
it's because you know you've done your job and not skrimshanked it
that you ain't afraid, just the same as me.... Hold tight,
sir,--she'll not be long now."
The _padre_ ducked his head as a swell passed, but the sea had no crest
now, the weather was certainly improving. "I don't say you're right," he
said, "but I haven't time to bring you to my way of thinking now."
The pinnace began to stand on end with a gurgling and bubbling of air
from her bow. The two men slipped off on opposite sides, still holding
the rough splintery keel between them.
"Listen, Dunn--repeat this after me: 'Please God, I have done my best,
and I'm not afraid to come to You.'"
"'Please God, I've done my best, and I'm not afraid to come to You,'
sir. Good-bye, sir."
"Thank you, Dunn--good-bye."
The sunset lit up the slope of a sea that looked majestically down on
them, and flashed on something behind it. As they looked the wet grey
conning-tower of a submarine showed barely fifty yards away. The
startled sea pounded at her hull as she rose and grew, and a rush of
spray shook out the folds of a limp and draggled White Ensign that
hung from the after-stanchion of her bridge.