AN ATTEMPT TO SERVE.
UNDISCOURAGED by the fewness of his listeners, the young missionary
threw his whole soul into his discourse. His theme was love, and his
text was drawn from the first epistle of St. John.
First: love was traced to its Divine Fountain-head—the love of God,
for GOD IS LOVE. Then the preacher showed its effect on those who are
called the sons of God,—both as regarded their feelings towards the
Saviour who bought them, and towards the brethren—beloved for His
sake. When Harold spoke warmly and earnestly of the unselfish, or
rather self-sacrificing love which is ready to give life itself for the
brethren, every eye was turned towards Robin, for every one present
thought of the terrible scene of the preceding day.
Then Harold went on to speak of the influence of love in removing the
fear of death—"'Perfect love casts out fear.' Whether the Father's call
come in the earthquake or the fire, or in the roaring of the stormy
waves, love recognises the voice, love grasps the supporting hand, love
looks upward to the Father's face, love rests on the Father's bosom."
After the service was over, Shelah was summoned to Miss Petty's cabin,
and Mrs. Evendale went upon deck. The lady sat with her book in her
hand, but her mind wandered from its pages. She thought how unutterably
poor are those who know nothing of this love of which she had heard,
those whose view of heaven is shut out by "the lust of the flesh, the
lust of the eyes, and the pride of life."
The lady thought of the captain who was skilfully guiding the vessel
towards an earthly port, yet who was himself steering blindly towards
the rock of destruction; who was faithfully serving the shipowners who
employed him, whilst utterly neglecting his duty towards his Maker,
Preserver, and Redeemer. Mrs. Evendale silently prayed for the seaman,
and conscience whispered to her soul, "Do not content yourself with
praying for another, ask for yourself courage to speak to him some
little word for God. Are you afraid? 'Perfect love casts out fear.'"
The thought was yet in the lady's mind when a shadow fell on her open
page. She looked up, and saw Captain Gump before her.
"How is that little Flibberty Gibbet after her cold bath?" he inquired.
"I have not seen her on deck to-day."
"Shelah is quite well," was the reply; "but Miss Petty is afraid of
letting the child come up here without her, lest Shelah should again
fall overboard and be drowned."
"Oh! She'll not try that trick a second time," said the captain, with
a grim smile. "I thought yesterday that she would be a feast for the
sharks, and so assuredly she would have been, but for that plucky young
lad. I suppose that Miss Lammikin is mighty grateful to him for pulling
her out of the sea."
"I have not noticed any particular sign of gratitude," answered the
lady.
"Then the girl is not worth her salt!" said Gump with decision. "I can
put up with a child's being wild—'tis nature—or silly, or mischievous,
or spiteful as a cat; there's but one thing which I cannot put up with,
whether in child or man, and that's ingratitude to a benefactor. Why,
the very beasts are grateful; the dog licks the hand that feeds him. An
ungrateful fellow is worse than a beast."
"Shelah is very young," observed Mrs. Evendale, "and probably hardly
understands either what she owes to young Mr. Hartley, or how very
great was the risk which he ran in order to save her. But if, when
the girl grows up, she does not wish even to hear the story of her
deliverance, if she care nothing for her preserver, and even when she
mentions his name does so only in a way to insult him, if—"
"Come, come, Mrs. Evendale," interrupted the captain, "the child isn't
so bad as to make us fancy her an ungrateful wretch like that!"
"Captain, there are a good many such people in the world," observed the
missionary lady, wondering to herself whether she would muster courage
to say, "Thou art the man."
"I hope not," said Gump.
"I have been hearing this very day of generous, devoted,
self-sacrificing love; I have been hearing of One who not only risked,
but deliberately, of His own free will, gave up life to save the
unworthy. Is it because the sacrifice is above our comprehension that
men think that, where most gratitude is due, ingratitude is no sin?"
Captain Gump was silent for several seconds; Mrs. Evendale, who was
almost trembling with nervousness, expected a burst of passion,
perhaps an insulting retort. She did not realise what a power is often
exercised by the beauty of holiness, the dignity of a life devoted to
God, even over hardened natures like that of the rude seaman before her.
"I know what you're driving at," said the captain at last, speaking
slowly and without anger. "I was told this sort of thing when I was a
boy; but a rough sea-life has rubbed it all out, as the waves rub out
marks in the sand. I have not so much as opened a Bible for twenty
years or more."
"Would you like to see one again?" asked Mrs. Evendale, softly, laying
her hand on the beautifully bound New Testament at her side.
"No time," said the captain more gruffly.
"Not time for two or three verses in the day! Even a busy man like you,
Captain Gump, must find time for eating and sleeping, and you and I
will both have to find time for dying. Would you accept this Testament
from me?" The gift was proffered in so courteous a manner, that even
the captain could not be angry.
"You can't spare it," said Gump, taking the little volume into his
hand. Opening it, he perceived that there were passages in it marked,
and double-marked, showing that the book had been much read, though the
handsome binding was little injured.
"Oh! Yes, I can spare it," said Mrs. Evendale; "I have a complete Bible
in the cabin below. I should be so glad if you could find half the
comfort in the Gospel that I have done in times of bitterest sorrow."
The captain made no immediate reply; a double mark had drawn his
attention to the words, "We love Him because He first loved us."
"I learned that verse when I was boy," Gump muttered half to himself;
"but I've forgotten it, like everything else. Well, thank 'ee, madam,
for your book; I'll have a look at it now and then, and maybe return it
when we get to Alexandria, where the passengers must disembark."
The captain buried the small volume in one of his capacious pockets,
for he did not choose that anyone else should see it in his hand. It
was Mrs. Evendale's allusion to her own bitter sorrow that had touched
one tender place in the sailor's heart, for he had noticed the deep
mourning which she wore, and had heard that she was a widow, and
childless. The captain himself had lost an only child; he had known the
pain of bereavement, and thought to himself, "There must be something
in a religion which can give comfort in such a trial."
Everyone on board noticed that from this time the captain's manner was
more polite to Mrs. Evendale than to anyone else on board. He always
placed her at meal-time at his right hand, and never swore in her
presence. Indeed, Captain Gump now rarely swore at all, and that only
when taken, as it were, by surprise. The captain made no objection to
Harold's saying grace before meals, and, on the following Sunday, was
present at Divine service. Gump said nothing of what was passing in his
own mind; perhaps he could not have put his thoughts into words. Little
did he imagine how many earnest prayers were offered up for him in his
vessel, or how often in his behalf was pleaded the promise in 1 John v.
16:
"If any man see his brother sin a sin, which is not unto death, he
shall ask, and He shall give him life for them which sin not unto
death."