answering your question; and it would be presumptuous in me to signify
that I can solve it to your satisfaction. But still, Albert, your
observations only confirm, in my own mind, your total ignorance of
what constitutes a Christian. Albert, it is not morality; it is not
consistency of practice with profession; it is not the _doing_ right
that makes a Christian, for if man could have attained to entire
correctness in morals, there would have been no such thing as
Christianity. But it is because of man's wickedness and his
inconsistency, both in theory and in practice, that the Christian
religion is presented as the means of attaining to _salvation_. Christ
makes the Christian--the Christian in Christ and Christ in the
Christian--a loving, affectionate, endearing union--of ignorance with
wisdom, of infirmity with strength, of immorality with virtue. Christ
throws his robe of righteousness over the follies and the wickedness
of the converted soul, and by covering him with himself, gradually
similates him to himself until what is carnal being cast off, the
spiritual remains at death a pure child of God."
"Dear me, Mary, you look lovely as you speak this mysterious theology.
And I really pant after such feelings as I see beaming from your
countenance; but you might just as well speak to me in Arabic for any
understanding I can have of this thing called Christianity. It must be
something good, or it could not thus fill your own soul, intelligent
as you are, with a joy that makes you indifferent to those gaieties
of life which give me pleasure."
"You need," said Mary, "the teachings of God's spirit. You know I took
delight in those things a year ago, but God's spirit taught me that I
was sinning in partaking of them. I was at Fayolle's, dancing, and, in
the midst of a figure in the cotillon, my head became giddy, and I had
to be supported to a seat. I soon recovered, but the thought of a
sudden death distressed me, for it came very forcibly to my mind--I am
a wicked sinner."
"O, Mary, Mary," interrupted Albert, "you did not think yourself a
sinner!"
"Yes, Albert, I did. I had never thought so before, but had rather
prided myself upon being called a good girl by all my acquaintances.
But I now saw things in a different light; and when I went home and
began self-examination, I soon found I had a very wicked heart. I
tried to do better, but the more I tried to live unto God the more I
discovered the proneness of my heart to sin. I tried to think good
thoughts, and evil thoughts came directly in my way to mar my peace.
Day after day I made effort to purify my thoughts. It was all in vain.
A pure thought immediately suggested its opposite, and I found myself
more familiar with the evil than the good. It shocked me. But I
penetrated deeper and deeper into my own heart--into the iniquity of
my soul, until I despaired of ever sounding its depth. I then cried to
God to have mercy on me. He heard my prayer, and Jesus Christ came to
my help. I felt that he had suffered in my stead, and had poured out
his blood as an atonement for my sins. I found peace to my soul as I
cast myself, a poor, helpless sinner, upon his atoning altar, and
bathed myself in his all-cleansing blood."
Mary could proceed no farther, for the tears began to flow too
rapidly, and her emotion might have been noticed by others than
Albert.
The wind, too, began to rise, and it blew so fresh that they retired
to the cabin, where Albert occupied himself with a game of chess, and
Mary read, with evident pleasure, such parts of her dearly-prized
Bible which suited the state of her mind, occasionally calling
Albert's attention to some passage particularly striking.
In the afternoon, Mary took her seat in a position to enjoy the best
view of the western sky, in which floated, in all their gorgeousness,
the variegated sun-lit clouds.
Albert soon joined her. "Well, Mary, you seem to be meditating; but
allow me to participate in the luxury of your reflections upon that
splendid horizon."
"Indeed, Albert, I was thinking how much more impressive is such
scenery than the traveller on land enjoys. In the rapid succession of
scenery and variety of faces, as the coach or the steam car drives
rapidly onward, everything one sees increases the mind's confusion.
Whatever he casts his eye upon, worthy of admiration, attracts his
attention but a moment; and the sublimity of mountain heights, the
gaudy decorations of fertile valleys, and the frowning grandeur of
rocks, as they cast their dark shadow upon some foaming torrent, flit
by him as a dream of twilight, and leave upon his memory only pencil
outlines of the beautiful and the sublime. Not so the voyager on the
ocean. Here the beautiful imprints itself ineffaceably in all its
sparkling and its gorgeous variety upon the enchanted mind, and the
grand and the sublime raise such a tempest of wonder in the soul that
the ocean ever after rolls its foaming waves over the broad expanse of
memory."
"Mary," said Albert, "these clouds, floating so gracefully on the
ocean, and this gorgeous horizon inspiring your poetic fancy, are
something more than mere sky drapery, for you'll perceive that the
wind is becoming boisterous, and I fear we are going to have a stormy
night."
"You do not feel alarmed, do you Albert?"
"I cannot say I feel alarmed; but I would be more comfortable at this
time if I had not so precious a charge. There may be no real danger,
but there can be no harm in preparing for what might happen. If we
should have a storm I wish you would take your seat on that large box,
so as to appropriate it and keep it. Your father brought me two
life-preservers and a good cord, when we came on board, and charged me
to use them in case of accident. You smile, Mary, at my earnestness,
and perhaps my love for you induces anxiety which circumstances do not
warrant. Still you can keep in mind my directions."
Albert walked towards the bow of the steamer, while Mary again fixed
her attention upon the variegated clouds. She did not participate in
Albert's apprehensions, and thought his anxiety needless. Yet his
earnest request made that sort of impression upon her mind which
rather conduced to religious contemplation.
The broad disk of the sun could be seen through the floating cloud,
and as Albert returned, Mary remarked:--"Albert, an hour ago I tried
to look at the sun, but his light dazzled my eyes to blindness. I
could not mark its shape nor perceive its beauty. But now the cloud
floats before it, and through its light vapor I see the sun's circular
infinity, and admire its beauty and its glory undazzled by its
effulgence. So it is I see God through Christ, as he transmits the
glory of his Father. And it is by thus seeing God through Christ,
instead of by the eyes of intellect and mere mental observation, that
I obtain hope in God and feel prepared to enter upon the realities of
that world which is eternally lighted by the invisible presence of
Jehovah. Seeing him in Christ Jesus, I feel an assurance of his mercy,
and am freed from those apprehensions which your scepticism and
distrust occasion yourself."
"My dear Mary," replied Albert, "do not suppose my counsel to you
originated in any fear for myself personally. It may be from want of
reflection, but really I do not know what the fear of death is. Your
safety, Mary, is the cause of my present anxiety. I do not doubt your
preparation for eternity, but I am not willing to resign you yet to
the companionship of angels. If you perish beneath these billows, and
I survive, my hope for happiness in this life is blasted. What is to
be beyond the grave I know not; and my religion concerns the life that
now is. I must make the best of time, and leave eternity to be taken
account of when I am fairly launched into it. Perhaps enjoying this
world with you, I might learn from you to prepare for eternity. At
present my care must be to get my dear Mary safely over this
treacherous ocean."
The sun now sank beneath the western horizon. The variegated colors of
the sky were rapidly commingling into one dense canopy of gloom.
The passengers earnestly inquired of the captain about the prospect.
He hoped to run into the port of Wilmington, but he exhorted them to
have brave hearts for the danger was imminent. The storm was rapidly
increasing. All urged that the pressure of steam be increased to the
utmost capacity of the boat.
O, what an anxious crowd were upon the deck of that steamer, as they
strained their eyes towards the land, and anon lost their balance by
the dashing of the billows! The lightning played with terrific
splendor, alternating with the blackness of the heavens; and the roar
of the waves was only hushed by the awful artillery of the skies.
Mary was sitting where Albert had directed, awaiting with great
calmness the result of the storm.
Albert carefully fastened her with a cord to the box, having first
placed beneath her arms the life-preserver. Placing another
life-preserver around himself, he stood by Mary's side with watchful
anxiety. Suddenly a heavy sea threw the boat forcibly to one side, and
Albert mechanically stretching forth his hand to save himself,
accidentally got caught in the rope that he had entwined about the
box, and with Mary was tossed into the sea and overwhelmed with the
waves.
The steamer was several hundred yards ahead of them before Albert
succeeded in adjusting his position to maintain a good hold upon the
box. His first thought was to examine how Mary was situated. The
lightning gave him sufficient assurance that she was alive and unhurt.
At that moment a dreadful explosion directed their eyes towards the
steamer, and the awful sight was exhibited of their late associates
blown into the air and then sinking beneath the waves.
The loss of the Pulaski has made many a flowing tear. But few were
left to tell the horrors of that night. The public are familiar with
their description of the sad disaster. But they knew not the fate of
Albert and Mary, and only added them to the catalogue of the lost.
It was with the greatest difficulty that Albert could afford his
charge any aid, and they must both soon have perished if the storm had
been long protracted. But fortunately, the wind shifting, the clouds
were soon dispersed, and the stars shone out brightly.
Before morning they were rescued from their perilous situation, and
found themselves, on recovering from their exhaustion, in the
comfortable cabin of a fast-sailing brig. The storm, although
exceedingly perilous to a steamboat, was not such as to damage a
well-trimmed vessel; and the brig, soon after the explosion, bore down
towards the wreck, and recovered from a watery grave the interesting
subjects of our narrative.
Mary was taken on board in a state of entire unconsciousness, while
Albert was too much interested for her to make any special observation
of the persons by whom they were rescued.
After seeing her sufficiently restored to animation to be left to
repose, he retired from her state-room and suffered himself to be
assisted to a berth.
The sun was high in the heavens when they were awaked from their
slumber and invited to breakfast. Every accommodation in the way of
dry clothing was supplied them, and they met in the saloon of the brig
to embrace, in the transport of grateful hearts.
Having recovered their self-possession, they looked around for
their deliverers. None were in the saloon with them but a
highly-accomplished looking lady and the steward and stewardess.
The lady saluted them in the blandest and most refined manner, and
expressed her sincere gratification that they had been so soon
delivered from their perilous situation, and were already so well
recovered from their exhaustion.
"To whom, Madam," said Albert, "are we indebted for these expressions
of kindness and tender solicitude?"
"I am, sir, the wife of the captain and master of this brig. My
husband will pay you his respects as soon as you have partaken of some
of this warm Java and these hot rolls."
"I would not," said Mary, "be doing justice to my own feelings were I
to sit down to breakfast without first asking your liberty, Madam, to
read a beautiful psalm which occurs to my mind at this moment."
"Certainly," said the lady; "and, steward, invite the chaplain in to
offer prayer. Doubtless it will be perfectly agreeable to our young
guests."
A reverend and benevolent looking gentleman, in black, soon entered
from the deck, and, in the kindest manner and address, saluted the
young couple, expressing, with deep emotion, his sympathy with them
and his anxiety in their behalf.
Mary pointed out to him the Psalm she had selected. He read it; made a
few highly-appropriate comments, and, while all knelt, such a strain
of grateful praise and of fervent prayer flowed from the lips of the
warm-hearted minister as seldom is surpassed.
Mr. Gracelius, for this was the minister's name, was of the orthodox
faith, and had long been engaged in preaching the doctrines of the
Calvinistic school. Yet he was not bigoted or rigid. His heart was
full of the milk of human kindness, and he carried conviction to his
hearers, not more by the strength of his logic than the benignity of
his address. He was just such a minister as the devout and
accomplished Mary St. Clair would have full confidence in. She was
delighted to think that she had been so fortunate as to meet such a
friend and spiritual counsellor at such a time; and she at once gave
utterance to the warm feelings of her heart, and begged that Mr.
Gracelius would feel at perfect liberty to counsel and advise her.
"My advice then is, my dear young sister, that first of all you sit
down to your breakfast, and allow Mrs. Templeton to help you and the
young gentleman to your coffee."
Albert and Mary could not but feel that they had fallen among true
friends. And, having eaten a cheerful breakfast, they both expressed
their sincere gratitude to their kind hostess, which she received with
equally deep emotion.
Captain Templeton now entered, and with great courteousness, blended
with warmth of address, gave his hand to Albert, and, with a graceful
bow to Mary, expressed the pleasure he felt in having rescued them
from a watery grave. "And now, my young friends," said the Captain, "I
wish you to make yourselves perfectly at home in my vessel; and as
soon as I can with safety restore you to your friends, I shall do so."
"Permit me to inquire," said Albert, "to what port you are destined?"
"We do not go into any harbor in the United States," replied the
Captain; "but should we meet with a merchant vessel under favorable
circumstances, you will be placed on board."
"Is not this a merchant vessel?" inquired Albert.
"No, sir. This is an armed brig."
"Of what nation?" asked Albert.
The Captain smiled as, with a courteous bow, he replied, "We are
pirates;" and immediately went on deck, leaving Albert and Mary in
perfect amazement.
Recovering himself in a moment, Albert said to Mrs. Templeton: "Your
husband is very jocose!"
"No, sir; he was serious in what he said. We are pirates. But you need
be under no apprehension of danger, nor feel the slightest alarm. I
know that you have been trained to believe that pirates are
necessarily devoid of humane feelings, and are ever thirsting for
blood. But I trust we are as hospitable and kind a people to our
guests, as are to be found on land."
Albert and Mary were indeed the guests of a piratical crew; but they
were soon relieved of all apprehension of personal danger; for there
was that in the deportment of all on board which satisfied them of a
sincere desire to serve and accommodate them in every way.
A few days brought them into such intimacy with the crew that they
spoke with freedom, even on the subject of piracy. They were indeed
astonished to find that even Mr. Gracelius advocated the claims of
pirates as a civilized and religious people.
On board the brig they had morning and evening prayers, and a lecture
one evening in the week, and two sermons on the Sabbath. What seemed
particularly remarkable was the sound evangelical faith of the Captain
and his family, and the unexceptionable doctrines that were preached
by their minister. There was so much fervor, earnestness, and pathos
in the sermons of Mr. Gracelius, that Mary was constrained to admit to
Mrs. Templeton that she had never heard better.
They had been on the brig about three weeks, without any event
calculated to disturb the sensibilities of our young friends, beyond
the unaccountably strange sentiments of the piratical crew. Everything
was conducted with so much order and propriety, good taste and moral
deportment, that they could scarcely believe at times otherwise than
that a mere sportive hoax was being played upon them.
But the tranquil, social pastimes were now interrupted by a new scene
of action.
It was a pleasant morning; a gentle breeze filled the sails. An
unusual arrangement of the vessel attracted the attention of Albert.
Soon he observed men at the guns, and Captain Templeton standing in a
commanding position. The brig was bearing down upon a French
merchantman.
Albert hastened to Mary, and disclosed to her the state of things.
Mary at first trembled, but soon composed herself with trust in God.
Albert, taking her arm into his, led her to where Captain Templeton
was standing:
"Captain," said Albert, "I perceive you are bearing down upon that
merchant vessel. Is it your object to place us on board, or do you
design to capture her?"
"Mr. Gillon," replied the Captain, "I shall see to it that you and
your young charge are safely provided for; and that you may be
perfectly easy on that score, I now inform you that when I take
possession of that merchantman, I shall make arrangements for you to
be taken in her to a suitable port, whence you can find your way to
your friends. Be composed now, and pay such attention to Miss St.
Clair as the unusual occasion may seem in your judgment to require. In
a few moments we shall have something to do, and perhaps a necessity
to use our guns. But I hope not. If you will retire to the cabin, Mrs.
Templeton will entertain you there better than you are likely to be on
deck."
There was so much politeness in the Captain's manner, and yet evident
fixedness of purpose, that Albert attempted no answer. There was now
no doubt that their hospitable entertainers were pirates. They retired
to the cabin, and sat there in profound silence. Soon Mrs. Templeton
came in, and in her gentle winning manner began to prepare Mary for
the scenes that might transpire.
"You must not be alarmed, my dear. You will be perfectly safe. I only
regret we are so soon likely to lose your company."
"O Mrs. Templeton!" said Mary, "how can you prosecute such a life! It
is so wicked! Excuse me, ma'am, but I cannot suppress my feelings of
horror."
At this moment the conversation was interrupted by the entrance of
Captain Templeton, who, with a calm countenance, said:--
"Wife, I perceive that there are several guns on that vessel, and I
judge that the crew and passengers are somewhat numerous. We shall
have to proceed with caution, and as we are likely to have somewhat of
a warm time, I think I should feel better satisfied to have a season
of prayer."
Albert knit his brow in moody silence. Mary heaved a deep sigh. Mr.
Gracelius was called in, and having read the 20th Psalm, he offered up
the following prayer:--
"Oh! Thou mighty God of Jacob, who didst accompany Thine ancient
Israel through all their trials, and didst fight their battles for
them, we thank Thee that Thou hast taught us to put our trust in Thee.
And we beseech Thee, oh! blessed Father, for the sake of Thine own Son
Jesus Christ, to help us at this time in our endeavor to appropriate
to the support of this branch of thy Zion, the treasures which, for
the mere purposes of an unhallowed commerce, are being transported to
that people who have ever distinguished themselves by their
infidelity, and by their scorn of all true religion; who have also by
their mighty leaders devastated kingdoms and shed seas of blood to
gratify a vain-glorious ambition.
"Oh! Lord, we would not shed blood needlessly, and we therefore pray
Thee to enable us in the approaching conflict, to have a single eye to
Thy glory, and thus preserve a calm and kind temper, whatsoever may be
the resistance offered on this occasion. And wilt Thou, O Lord, assist
our beloved captain to do his duty, and to so command his men and
order the battle, that when all shall be over, he may have a
conscience void of offence towards God and towards man. And whatsoever
treasures may come to us, may we gratefully employ in Thy service and
to Thy glory, remembering that Jesus Christ, who died for us and rose
again for our justification, first became poor, that we through his
poverty might be made rich, and therefore that we ought to use our
wealth to the advancement of Christianity in our own souls and among
our fellow-beings, as the best evidence of our gratitude for our
earthly prosperity, and for those treasures which are laid up for us
in heaven; and to Thy gracious name, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, be
the praise forever. _Amen_."
The tone of the chaplain's voice, the fervid manner and the striking
pathos of this short prayer, had a strong effect upon Captain
Templeton and his wife. They both rose from their knees with tears in
their eyes.
The Captain grasped the hand of Mr. Gracelius, and earnestly said: "I
feel strengthened, my brother; and I can now say, If the Lord be for
us, who can be against us!" He then passed out and resumed his
position on the deck.
"Miss St. Clair," said Mrs. Templeton, "do you think that can be
wickedness which the Lord sanctifies with his communion?"
Before Mary could reply, the loud report of a cannon gave notice that
the action had commenced.
The struggle was a short one, the French vessel was captured, with the
loss of her commander, who fell at the first fire. It took but a short
time to have all on the merchantman in fetters, and the vessel manned
by the pirates.
It was not until the morning after the capture that matters became
composed on the pirates' vessel, and everything in usual order.
At breakfast Mary took the liberty to ask the Captain what he designed
to do with his prisoners.
"I always endeavor," he replied, "to remember the obligations of
humanity and Christianity. Sometimes, for our own safety, we are
compelled to put our captives to death, but I do so always with great
reluctance, and never without prayer to God that their souls might be
saved. In this case I think we shall not be under this painful
necessity."
"Captain," said Albert, "it is perfectly unaccountable to me how a man
of your naturally humane and benevolent disposition can engage in this
business of robbery and murder."
"Well, Mr. Gillon," replied the Captain, "I make every allowance for
one who has been educated as you have been, and taught that pirates
were only worthy of the gallows; although I cannot but feel that your
language is not such as your refined and polished manners would
warrant me to expect and require. Our business is not robbery and
murder. The laws under which we live, both social and political, are
as decidedly opposed to such crimes as among any other people."
"I did not," replied Albert, "intend to be ungentlemanly in my
language, and was not aware that these terms were offensive to you.
But, sir, you only increase my amazement. I cannot comprehend how you
can characterize your business by terms more appropriate. Is it not so
that piracy is but the practice of robbery and murder, when it takes
away a man's possessions, and then destroys his life to make the booty
secure?"
"I perceive, Mr. Gillon, that you labor under the delusion that all
pirates are bad and cruel men. I confess, sir, there are many of our
people who treat their prisoners with unnecessary severity, and
frequently inflict death when the occasion does not demand it. But, my
dear sir, this is the abuse of piracy, not its legitimate use."
"And do you really mean to say, Captain Templeton," said Mary, "that
piracy can be made an honorable business?"
"Of course I do, miss," replied the Captain, "and I regret that Miss
St. Clair can suppose I would engage in a business that I did not
believe to be honorable."