Mr. Cassall was a man of peculiarly modern type. From his youth upward

he had never once acknowledged himself beaten, though he had known

desperate circumstances; he saw that, as our civilization goes, money is

accounted a rough gauge of merit, and a man's industry, tenacity,

sobriety, self-control, and even virtue, are estimated and popularly

assessed according to the amount of money which he owns, and he resolved

that, let who will fail, he at least would have money and plenty of it.

He bent his mind on one end for forty years; he was unscrupulous in all

respects so long as he could keep within the law; he established a

monopoly in his business on the ruins of scores of small firms which he

crushed by weight of metal; he had no pity, no consideration, no

remorse, in business hours; and he succeeded just as any other man of

ability will succeed if he gives himself up body and soul to

money-making. He never was proud; he was only hard. To his niece, whom

he passionately loved, he would say, "Never be ashamed, my dear, to tell

people that your uncle was a wholesale draper and hosier. Your mother

was a little ashamed of it, and I had some trouble to cure her. Don't

you be so silly. People think all the more of you for owning frankly

that you or your relations have risen from the ranks, as they call it."

When he retired his wealth was colossal. Smart men would say that Bob

Cassall's name was good for a million anywhere; and indeed it was good

for two millions, and more even than that. He never felt the burden of

great riches; as soon as he was safe he seemed to change his nature, and

became the most dexterously benevolent of men. He abhorred a cadger; he

abhorred the very sight of the begging circulars which so appreciably

increase the postman's daily burden. He was a sensible reader, and, when

he heard of a traveller who was something more than a mere lion, he

would make his acquaintance in the most respectful and unobtrusive way,

and he managed to learn much. His shrewd innocence and piquant wit

pleased those whom he questioned, and as he was always willing to place

his house, horses, boats, and game, at the disposal of any traveller who

pleased him, he was reckoned rather a desirable acquaintance. His

prejudice against missions to the lower tribes was derived solely from

men who had lived and worked among the negroes, and, like all his other

prejudices, it was violently strong. He would say, "Have we not good

white men here who are capable of anything? I don't want to assist your

Polish Jew in the East, nor Quashee Nigger in Africa. Show me a plucky

fellow that is ready to work at anything for any hours, and I'll help

him. But instead of aiding our own kindly white race, you fool away

millions on semi-baboons; you send out men at £300 a year and ask them

to play at being St. Paul, and you don't convert a hundred niggers a

year--and those who are converted are often very shady customers. Your

Indian men drive about in buggies, and the 'cute natives laugh at them.

Do you know what a Bengali Baboo or a Pathan is really like? The one is

three times as clever as your missionary; the other is a manly fanatic

and won't have him at any price. You're a maritime nation, and you've

got ten thousand good British seamen out of work. Why not assist

_them_?"

So this quaint and shockingly heterodox millionaire would rave on, for

he was a most peppery old person. One dark and terrible legend is

current concerning him, but I hardly dare repeat it. An affable

gentleman from a foreign mission called on him one day, and obtained

admission (I am bound to add without any subterfuge). Bob heard the

visitor's story, and knitted his beetling bushy brows. He said: "Well,

sir, you've spoken very fairly. Now just answer me one or two questions.

How much money have you per year?"

"Half a million."

"Good. Does any one supervise your missionaries?"

"We have faith in their integrity, and we credit them with industry."

"You trust them five hundred miles up country?"

"Certainly, sir."

"How many missionaries' wives died in the last ten years?"

"I think probably about eighty."

"Eighty sweet English girls condemned to death. Good." The grizzled old

fellow rose in dignified fashion, and said:

"You will perhaps lunch alone, and I shall be pleased if you will be

good enough to make this your final visit."

Then the story goes on to say that Mr. Cassall placed a kennel on the

lawn with a very large and truculent brindled bulldog as tenant; over

the kennel he coiled a garden hose, and above the bulldog's portal

appeared the words, "For Foreign Missions."

This seems too shocking to be true, and I fancy the whole tale was

hatched in the City. Certainly Mr. Cassall was scandalously unjust to

the missionaries--an injustice which would have vanished had he

personally known the glorious results for God and humanity achieved by

self-denying missionaries and their devoted wives who carry the gospel

of Christ to far-off heathen lands--but then where is the man who has

not his whims and oddities?

This man, according to his lights, spread his benefactions lavishly and

wisely on public charities and private cases of need. He liked above

all things to pick out clever young men and set them up in retail

businesses with money lent at four per cent. Not once did he make a

blunder, and so very lucky was he that he used to tell his niece that

with all his enormous expenditure he had not touched the fringe of his

colossal capital. If he assisted any advertised charity he did so in the

most princely way, but only after he had personally held an audit of the

books. If the committee wanted to have the chance of drawing ten

thousand pounds, let them satisfy him with their books; if they did not

want ten thousand pounds, or thought they did not deserve it, let them

leave it alone.

This was Robert Cassall, who was Marion Dearsley's uncle. His grim,

grizzled head was stooping a little as he bent towards his niece on this

soft winter day, and he himself looked almost like the human type of a

hard, wholesome, not unkindly Winter. His high Roman nose, penthouse

brows, quick jetty eye, square well-hung chin, and above all his

sturdy, decided gait--all marked him for a Man every inch, and he did

not belie his appearance, for no manlier being walks broad England than

Robert Cassall.

He was listening a little fretfully to his niece, but her strength and

sweetness kept him from becoming too touchy. The deep contralto that we

know, said--

"Well then, you see, uncle dear, these men cannot help themselves. They

are--oh! such magnificent people--that is the country-born ones, for

some of the town men are not nice at all; but the East Coast men are so

simple and fine, but then, you know, they are so poor. Our dear Mr.

Fullerton told me that in very bad weather the best men cannot earn so

much as a scavenger can on shore."

"Yes, yes, my girl. You know I listen carefully to everything you say. I

value your talk immensely, but don't you observe, my pet, that if I help

every one who cannot help himself I may as well shorten matters by going

into the street and saying to each passer-by, 'Please accept half a

crown as _your_ share of my fortune'?"

"But the reasons are peculiar here, uncle. Oh! I do so wish Mrs. Walton

could see you. She has logic, and she reasons where I dream."

"Hah! Would you? What? Turn Mrs. Walton loose at me? No ladies here,

miss, I warn you."

"Now, please be good while I go on. I want to repeat Dr. Ferrier's

reasoning if I can. You have fish every day--mostly twice?"

"Yes, but I don't give charity to my butcher. The rascal is able to tip

_me_, if the truth were known."

"True, uncle, and you don't need to give anything to your fishmonger.

Why, you silly dear, you think you are a commercial genius, and yet the

fishmonger probably charges you ever so much per cent over and above

what the fishermen receive, because of the great expense of railway

carriage and distribution of the fish. I know that, because Mr.

Fullerton told me; so you see I've corrected you, even you, on a point

of finance."

How prettily this stern, composed young woman could put on artful airs

of youthfulness when she chose! How she had that firm, far-seeing old

man held in position, ready to be twirled round her rosy finger!

Which of us is not held in bondage by some creature of the kind? Unhappy

the man who misses that sweet and sacred slavery.

Mr. Cassall wrinkled his grim face not unpleasantly. "Go on; go on.

You're a lawyer, neither more nor less. By the way, who is this--this

what's-the-name--the Doctor, that you mentioned?"

"Oh! he is a very clever young man who has chosen to become a surgeon

instead of being a university professor. He's now out on the North Sea

in all this bad weather. He was so much struck with the need of a

hospital, that he made up his mind to risk a winter so that he may tell

people exactly what he has seen. He doesn't do things in a half-hearted

way.

"What a long, pretty description of Mr. Ferrier. You seem to have taken

a good deal of notice of the fortunate youth. Well, proceed."

Marion was a little flushed when she resumed, but her uncle did not

observe anything at all unusual.

"Where was I?--Oh, yes! You hold it right to give money in charity to

deserving objects. Now these men out at sea were left for years, perhaps

for centuries, to live as a class without hope or help. Dear good

creatures like my own uncle actually never knew that such people were in

existence. They were far worse off than savages who have plantains and

pumpkins and cocoanuts, and they were our own good flesh and blood, yet

we neglected them."

"So we do the East Enders, and the Lancashire operatives and the dock

labourers."

"True. But we are doing better now. Then you see the East End has been

discovered a long time, and visitors can walk; but the poor North Sea

men were left alone, until lately, by everybody."

"Still, we haven't come to why _I_ should help them."

"Oh! uncle, you are a commercial man. Look at selfish reasons alone. You

know how much we depend on sailors, and you often say the country is so

very, very ill-provided with them. And these men are--oh! such splendid

seamen. Fancy them staying out for two months with a gale of wind per

week, and doing it in little boats about eighty feet long. You should

see a hundred of them moving about in mazes and never running into any

trouble. Oh! uncle, it _is_ wonderful. Well, now, these men would be all

ready for us if we were in national danger. I heard Mr. Fullerton say

that hundreds of them are in the Naval Reserve, and as soon as they

learned their way about an ironclad, they would take to the work by

instinct. There is nothing they don't understand about the sea, and wind

and weather. Would any negro help us? Why, Lord Wolseley told your

friend Sir James Roche that a thousand Fantees ran away from fifty

painted men of some other tribe; and Lord Wolseley said that you can

only make a negro of that sort defend himself by telling him that he

will die if he runs away. You wouldn't neglect our own men who are so

brave. Why they might have to defend London, where all your money is,

and they would do it too." (Oh! the artful minx!) "And we send missions

to nasty, brutal Fantees who run away from enemies, and we leave our own

splendid creatures far worse off than dogs."

"Well, if I'm not having the law laid down to me, I should like to know

who ever had. But I'm interested. Let's go round by the avenue, through

the kitchen garden, and then round to the front by road, and make the

walk as long as you can. Why on earth didn't Blair tell me something of

this before? Most wonderful. He talks enough, heaven knows, about

anything and everything, but he never mentioned that. Why?" "Now don't

be a crusty dear. I don't know what good form is, but he told me he

thought it would hardly be good form to bring up the subject in your

company, as it might seem as though he were hinting at a donation. Now

that's plain."

"Good. Now never mind the preaching. I understand you to say that's done

good."

"Perfectly wonderful. You remember how we were both insulted and hooted

at Burslem, only because we were strangers! Well, now, in all the time

that we were away we never heard one uncivil word. Not only they were

civil, and so beautifully courteous to us, but they were so kindly among

themselves, and it is all because they take their Christianity without

any isms."

That wicked puss! She knew how Robert Cassall hated the fights of the

sects, and she played on him, without in the least letting him suspect

what she was doing. He snorted satisfaction. "That's good! that's good!

No isms. And you say they've dropped drink?"

"Entirely, uncle, and all through the preaching without any isms. It is

such a blessed, beautiful thing to think that hundreds of men who used

to make themselves and every one about them wretched, are now calm,

happy fellows. And they do not cant, uncle. All of them know each

other's failings, and they are gentle and forgiving to each other."

"What a precious lot of saints--much too good to live, I should fancy."

"Don't sneer, you graceless. Yes it's quite true. Do you know, dear, the

Early Christian movement is being repeated on the sea."

"Umph. Early Christians! The later Christians have made a pretty mess of

it. Now, just give me, without any waste words, all you have to say

about this hospital business. Don't bring in preachee-preachee any

more."

"Very good, dear. Stop me if I go wrong. I'm going round about. You

know, you crabby dear, you wouldn't neglect an old dog or an old pony

after it had served you. You wouldn't say, 'Oh, Ponto had his tripe and

biscuit, and Bob had his hay;' you would take care of them. Now

wouldn't you? Of course you would. And these fishers get their wages,

but still they give their lives for your convenience just as the dog and

the pony do."

"Yes, yes. But come to the hospital ship. You dance round as if you were

a light-weight boxer sparring for breath."

"Hus-s-sh! I won't have it. The fishermen, then, are constantly being

dreadfully hurt: I don't mean by such things as toothache, though many

hundreds of them have to go sleepless for days, until they are worn out

with pain;--I mean really serious, violent hurts. Why, we were not

allowed to see several of the men who came to Dr. Ferrier for treatment.

The wounds were too shocking. Nearly eight thousand of them are already

relieved in various ways every year. Just fancy. And I assure you I

wonder very much that there are no more."

"What sort of hurts?"

Then Marion told him all about the falling spars, the poisoned ulcers,

the great festers, the poisoned hands caused by venomous fishes

accidentally handled in the dark, wild midnights; the salt-water cracks,

the thousand and one physical injuries caused by falls, or the blow of

the sea, or the prolonged fighting with heavy gales. The girl had become

eloquent; she had _seen_, and, as she was eloquent as women generally

are, she was able to make the keen old man see exactly what she wanted

him to see. Then she told how Ferrier stuck to the sinking smack and

saved his patient, and Robert Cassall muttered, "That sounds like a

man's doings;" and then with every modesty she spoke of Tom Betts's

mistake. There never was such a fluent, artful, mock-modest, dramatic

puss in the world!

"Hah! mistook you for an angel. Eh? Not much mistake when you like to be

good, but when you begin picking my pocket, there's not much of the

angel about that, I venture to say."

So spoke the old gentleman; but the anecdote delighted him so much that

for two or three days he snorted "Angel!" in various keys all over the

house, until the servants thought he must have turned Atheist or

Republican, or something generally contemptuous and sarcastic. The girl

had him in her toils, and the fascination was too much for him. She

could look grand as a Greek goddess, calm and inscrutably imposing as

the Venus of Milo; but she could also play _Perdita_, and dance with her

enslaved ones like a veritable little witch. Robert Cassall was

captured--there could not be much error about that. He asked, with a

sudden snap of teeth and lips which made his niece start: "And how much

do you want to coax out of me, Miss Molly. Give me an idea. Of course

I'm to be the uncle in the play, and 'Bless you, me chee-ill-dren,' and

the rest. Oh yes!"

"Oh, one vessel could be kept up for £30,000."

"What! Per year?"

"No. The interest on £30,000 in North Western Railway stock would

support a vessel well. _You_ could easily support two."

"This girl's got bitten by a money-spending tarantula. Why you'd dance

a million away in no time. _Why_, in the name of common sense, why

should I support two vessels and their hulking crews--who chew tobacco,

of course, don't they? To be sure, and hitch their slacks! Why should I

support all these manly tars!"

"Now! I'll be angry. I'll tell you why. You know you have more money

than you can ever spend. You promise me some, and you're very good, but

I'd almost rather live on my own than have too much. Well, I can't bear

to think of your dying--but you must die, my own good dear, and you will

have to divide your money before you go. There will be a lot of

heart-burning, and I'm afraid poor me won't come off very lightly if I

am left behind you. You will want a memorial."

"You remember me and do as I would like you to do, and we sha'n't

trouble our minds much about memorials. I thought of almshouses,

though."

"Oh! uncle dear, and then the Charity Commissioners may come in, and

give all your money to fat, comfortable tradesmen's children, or

well-to-do professional men, instead of to your old people, and the

clergyman will be master of your money; and the old people will not be

grateful, and all will go wrong, and my dear uncle will be forgotten.

Oh! no."

"I say, come, come; you're too knowing. You're trying to knock a pet

scheme of mine on the head."

The old man was genuinely concerned, and he felt as if some prop had

been knocked away from him. But his sweet niece soon brought him round.

She had scared his vanity on purpose, and she now applied the antidote.

"Supposing you give us two ships, you give yourself a better memorial

than poor Alleyn of Dulwich, or Roan of Greenwich. Dear uncle, a charity

which can be enjoyed by the idle is soon forgotten, and the pious

founder is no more than a weed round the base of his own monument; he

has not even a name. But you may actually see your own memorial working

good long, long before you die, and you may see exactly how things will

go on when your time is over. When you make out your deed of gift, exact

the condition that one vessel must always be called after you, no matter

how long or how often the ships are renewed. Sir James Roche can advise

you about that. Place your portrait in the ship, and make some such

provision as that she shall always carry a flag with your name, if you

want to flaunt it, you proud thing! Then something like, at any rate,

three thousand sufferers will associate your name with their happiness

and cure every year; and they will say in every port in England, 'I was

cured on the _Robert Cassall,'_ or 'I should have lost that hand,' or 'I

was dying of typhoid and our skipper thought I needed salts, but they

cured me on the _Robert Cassall_.' And the great ships will pass your

beautiful ship, and when people ask 'What is that craft, and who is

Cassall?' they will say that Cassall gave of his abundance during his

lifetime, so that seamen might be relieved of bitter suffering; and

those brave men will be so very grateful. And oh! uncle, fancy going out

to sea in your own monument, and watching your own wealth working

blessedness before your eyes. Why, you will actually have all the

pleasures of immortality before you have lost the power of seeing or

knowing anything. Oh, uncle dear, think if you can only see _one_

sailor's limbs saved by means of your money! Think of having a hundred

living monuments of your goodness walking about in the beautiful

world--saved and made whole by you!"

The girl frightened the plucky old gentleman. His voice trembled, and he

said, "Why, we must send you to Parliament! You can beat most of those

dull sconces. Why, you're a no-mistake born orator--a talkee-talkee

shining light! But if you go in for woman's rights and take to short

hair, I shall die, after burning my will! And now you kiss me, my

darling, and don't scare me any more with that witch's tongue." Was ever

millionaire in such manner wooed? Was ever millionaire in such fashion

won? The gipsy's eyes glowed, and her heart beat in triumph. Was this

the Diana of Ferrier's imagination? Was this the queen of whom that

athletic young gentleman was silently dreaming as he swung over the

pulsing mountains of the North Sea? This slyboots! This most infantile

coax!

I wish some half-dozen of the most charming young ladies in England

would only begin coaxing, and coax to as good purpose! I would go out

next summer and willingly end my days in work on the water, if I thought

my adorable readers would only take Marion Dearsley's hint, and help to

blot out a little misery and pain from this bestained world.

While Mr. Cassall was standing, with his teacup, before the glowing wood

fire, he said, "Be my secretary for half an hour, Molly, my pet. Write

and ask Blair, and that other whom I don't know--Fullerton. Yes; ask

them to dinner. And, let me see, you can't ask Mr. Phoenix the

Sawbones?"

"Who, uncle?" "Why, the young doctor that performs such prodigies, of

course."

"He's out on the sea now, dear, and I expect that he's in some

abominable cabin--"

"Catching smallpox to infect cleanly people with?"

"No, dear. He is most likely tending some helpless tatterdemalion, and

moving about like a clever nurse. He is strong--so strong. He pulled a

man through a wave with one hand while he held the rigging with the

other, and the man told me that it was enough to tear the strongest man

to pieces"

"Here, stop the catalogue. Why, Sawbones must be Phoebus Apollo! If you

talk much more I shall ask him a question or two. Go on with your

secretary's duties, you naughty girl."

So ended the enslavement of Robert Cassall, and so, I hope, began his

immortality. Oh! Marion Dearsley; sweet English lady. This is what you

were turning over in your maiden meditations out at sea. Demure, deep,

delicious plotter. What a _coup_! All the mischievous North Sea shall be

jocund for this, before long. Surely they must name _one_ vessel after

_you_! You are a bloodless Judith, and you have enchanted a perfectly

blameless Holofernes. I, your laureate, have no special song to give you

just now, but I think much of you, for the sake of darkened fishers, if

not for your own.

Mr. Cassall invited Sir James Roche to meet the other men. Sir James was

the millionaire's physician and friend, and Cassall valued all his

judgments highly, for he saw in the fashionable doctor a money-maker as

shrewd as himself; and, moreover, he had far too much of the insular

Briton about him to undervalue the kind of prestige which attaches to

one who associates with royal personages and breathes the sacred

atmosphere of money. Sir James was an apple-faced old gentleman, who had

been a miser over his stock of health and strength. He was consequently

ruddy, buoyant, strong, and his good spirits were infectious. He

delighted in the good things of the world; no one could order a dinner

better; no one could better judge a picture; no one had a more pure and

hearty liking for pretty faces;--and it must be added, that few men had

more worldly wisdom of the kind needed for everyday use. He could fool a

humbug to the top of his bent, and he would make use of humbugs, or any

other people, to serve his own ends; but he liked best to meet with

simple, natural folks, and Cassall always took his fancy from the time

of their first meeting onward.

Sir James spent the afternoon in driving with his host, and they

naturally chatted a great deal about Mr. Cassall's new ideas. The

physician listened to his friend's version of Miss Dearsley's eloquence,

and then musingly said, "I don't know that you can do better than take

your niece's advice. The fact is, my dear fellow, you have far too much

money. I have more than I know how to use, and mine is like a drop in

that pond compared with yours. If you leave a great deal to the girl,

you doom her to a life of anxiety and misery and cynicism; she will be

worse off than a female cashier in a draper's shop. If she marries

young, she will he picked up by some embarrassed peer; if she waits till

she is middle-aged, some boy will take her fancy and your money will be

fooled away on all kinds of things that you wouldn't like. This idea, so

far as it has gone in my mind, seems very reasonable. I'm not thinking

of the fishermen at all; that isn't my business at present. I am

thinking of you, and I fancy that you may do a great deal of good, and,

at the same time, raise your position in the eyes of your countrymen.

The most modest of us are not averse to that. Then, again, some

plutocrats buy honours by lavishing coins in stinking, rotten boroughs.

Your honours if they should come to you, will be clean. At any rate, let

us both give these men a fair hearing, and perhaps our worldly

experience may aid them. An enthusiast is sometimes rather a

fiddle-headed chap when it comes to business."

"I don't want my money to be fought over, and I won't have it. If I

thought that people were going to screech and babble over my money, I'd

leave the whole lot to the Dogs' Home."

"We'll lay our heads together about that, and I reckon if we two can't

settle the matter, there is no likelihood of its ever being settled at

all."

The harsh, wintry afternoon came to a pleasant close in the glowing

drawing-room. Sir James had coaxed Marion until she told him all about

the gale and the rest of it. He was very much interested by her

description of Ferrier.

"I've heard of that youngster," he said. "He began as a very Scotch

mathematician, and turned to surgery. I heard that he had the gold medal

when he took his fellowship. He must be a fine fellow. You say he is out

at sea now? I heard a little of it, and understood he wasn't going to

leave until the end of December. But it never occurred to me that he was

such a friend of yours. You must let me know him. We old fogies often

have a chance of helping nice young fellows."

Mrs. Walton and Miss Ranken arrived with Blair and Fullerton, and

everybody was soon at ease. Sir James particularly watched Fullerton,

and at last he said to himself, "That fellow's no humbug."

The dinner passed in the usual pleasant humdrum style; nobody wanted to

shine; that hideous bore, the professional talker, was absent, and the

company were content with a little mild talk about Miss Ranken's

seclusion at sea during the early days of the autumn voyage. The girl

said, "Well, never mind, I would go through it all again to see what we

saw. I never knew I was alive before."

Instinctively the ladies refrained from touching on the business which

they knew to be nearest the men's minds, and they withdrew early. Then

Cassall came right to the point in his usual sharp, undiplomatic way.

"My niece has been telling me a great deal about your Mission, Mr.

Fullerton, and she says you want a floating hospital. I've thought about

the matter, but I have so few details to go upon that I can neither plan

nor reason. I mean to help if I can, merely because my girl has set her

mind on it; but I intend to know exactly where I am going, and how far.

I understand you have twelve thousand men that you wish to influence and

help. How many men go on board one vessel?"

"From five to seven, according to the mode of trawling."

"That gives you, roughly, say two thousand sail. Marion tells me you

have now about eight thousand patients coming on board your ships

yearly. Now, if you manage to cover the lot, you must attend on a great

many more patients."

"We can only _dabble_ at present. We have little pottering dispensaries,

and our men manage slight cases of accident, but I cannot help feeling

that our work is more or less a sham. People don't think so, but I want

so much that I am discontented."

Sir James broke in, "Your vessels have to fish, haven't they?"

"They did at first. We hope to let them all be clear of the trawl for

the future."

Mr. Cassall looked at Sir James. "I say, Doctor, how would you like one

of your men to operate just after he had been handling fish? Do they

clean the fish, Mr. Fullerton? They do? What charming surgeons!"

"We have gone on the principle of trying to do our best with any

material. Our skippers are not first-rate pulpit orators, but we have

been obliged to let them preach. Both their preaching and their surgery

have done an incredible amount of good, but we want more."

"Exactly. Now, I'm a merchant, Mr. Fullerton, and I know nothing about

ships, but I understand your vessels are all sailers. Is that the proper

word? You depend on the wind entirely. How would you manage if you took

a man on board right up, or down, the North Sea?--I don't know which is

up and which is down; but, any way, you want to run from one end to the

other. How would you manage if you had a very foul wind after your man

got cured?"

"We must take our chance. As a matter of experience, we find that our

vessels do get about very well. The temperatures of the land on each

side of the sea vary so much, that we are never long without a breeze."

"Still, you depend on chance. Is that not so? Now I never like doing

things by halves. Tell me frankly, Mr. Fullerton, what _would_ you do if

you took off a smallpox case, and got becalmed on the run home?"

Fullerton laughed. "You are a remarkably good devil's advocate, Mr.

Cassall, but if I had ever conjured up obstacles in my own mind, there

would have been no mission--would there, Blair? And I venture to think

that the total amount of human happiness would have been less by a very

appreciable quantity." Besides, it is absolutely against rules to take

infectious cases on board the mission vessels. "Cassall isn't putting

obstacles in your way," interposed Sir James. "I know what he's driving

at, but strangers are apt to mistake him. He means to draw out of you by

cross-examination the fact that quick transport is absolutely necessary

for your hospital scheme. Take an instance. Miss Dearsley tells me the

men stay out eight weeks, and then run home. Now suppose your cruiser

meets one of the home-going vessels, and the captain of this vessel

says, 'There's a dying man fifty miles N.W. (or S.W., or whatever it is)

from here. You must go soon, or he won't be saved. What are you going to

do if you have a foul wind or a calm?"

"But that dying man would probably be in a _fleet_, and what I wish to

see is not a single cruising hospital, but that _all_ our mission

vessels in future should be of that type, _i.e.,_ one with every fleet."

Cassall broke in, "Yes, yes, by all means; but, I say, could you not try

steam as well? Why not go in at once for a steamer as an experiment, and

then you can whisk round like a flash, and time your visits from week

to week."

Blair rose in his seat wearing a comic expression of despair and terror.

"Why, we're driven silly now by people who offer us ships, without

saying anything about ways and means for keeping the ships up. My dear

Cassall, you do not know what a devourer of money a vessel is. Every

hour at sea means wear and tear somewhere, and if we are to make our

ships quite safe we must be constantly renewing. It's the _maintenance_

funds that puzzle us. If you give us a ship without a fund for renewals

of gear, wages, and so on, it is exactly as though you graciously made a

City clerk a present of a couple of Irish hunters, and requested him not

to sell them. The vessel Fullerton has in his mind will need an outlay

of £1,200 a year to keep her up. Suppose we invest the necessary capital

in a good, sound stock, we shall get about 4 per cent for money, so that

we require £30,000 for a sailing ship alone. As to the steamer,

whew-w-w!"

"A very good little speech, Blair, but I think I know what I'm talking

about. After all, come now, the steamer only needs extra for coal,

engineers, and stokers. You don't trust to chance at all; you don't care

a rush for wind or tide, and you can go like an arrow to the point you

aim at. Then, don't you see, my very good nautical men--Blair is an

absolutely insufferable old Salt since he came home--you can always

disengage your propeller when there is a strong, useful wind, and you

bank your fires. Brassey told me that, and he said he could always get

at least seven knots' speed out of his boat if there was the least bit

of a breeze. Then, if you're in a hurry, down goes your propeller, and

off you go. The wards must be in the middle--what you call it, Blair,

the taffrail?--oh, amidships. The wards must be amidships, and you must

be able to lay on steam so as to work a lift. You shove down a platform

in a heavy sea, lower a light cage, put your wounded man in it, and

steam away. There you are; you may make your calls like the postman.

Bill Buncle breaks his leg on Sunday; his mates say, 'All right,

William, the doctor's coming to-morrow.' You take me? Tell me, how will

you manage if you have a vessel short of hands to work her?"

"We propose to have several spare hands on board our hospital vessels.

Hundreds will be only too glad to go, and we shall always have a sound

man to take the place of the patient."

"Exactly. Well, with steam you can deposit your men and take them off

with all the regularity of an ordinary railway staff on shore."

"But the money. It is too colossal to think of."

The falcon-faced old merchant waved his hand. "Blair and I, and you too,

Mr. Fullerton, not to mention Roche, are all business men, and we don't

brag about money. But you know that if I fitted out and endowed _ten_

steamers, I should still be a fairly comfortable man. If you can't keep

a steamer going with £4,000 a year, you don't deserve to have one, and

if I choose to put down one hundred thousand, and you satisfy me as to

the management, why should I not gratify my whimsy?"

"And I don't mean to be behindhand if I satisfy myself as to the quality

of the work to be done," added Sir James. "Cassall and I will arrange as

to how many beds--Roche beds, you understand--I shall be permitted to

endow."

Fullerton sat dumb; a flush came and went over his clear face, and his

lips moved.

Cassall proceeded: "My idea is to have a sailing vessel _and_ a steamer.

You have told us, Mr. Fullerton, that you must, in time, fit up half a

dozen cruisers, if you mean to work efficiently, and our preliminary

experiment will decide whether sail or steam is the better. Now, Blair,

you must let me fit up your boat for a cruise."

"And pray why, Croesus? You talk as if you meant going a-buccaneering."

"I don't know what you call it, but I'm going round among those fleets

with my niece, and I shall start in a week. If I'm satisfied, you shall

hear from me." "And I'm going to play truant and go with you, Cassall,"

said Sir James.

"All right; that being so, we'll join the ladies."

Henry Fullerton and Blair walked to the station together that night, and

the enthusiast said, "I pray that my brain may be able to bear this."

"Your fiddlestick, bear this! I wish some one would give me £150,000 to

carry out my pet fad. I'd bear it, and go on bearing it, quite

gallantly, I assure you, my friend."

A very happy pair of people were left to chat in Cassall's drawing-room

as the midnight drew near. Sir James had retired early after the two

good old boys had addressed each other as buccaneers and shellbacks, and

made all sorts of nautical jokes. The discussion as to who should be

admiral promised to supply a month's fun, but Cassall pretended to

remember that Phoenix Sawbones would certainly wish to be commander, on

account of the young puppy's experience.

Marion whispered to her uncle, "I do believe you will make yourself

very happy;" and the old gentleman answered, "It really seems to be more

like a question of making _you_ happy, you little jilt."

The little jilt, who was not much shorter than her uncle, looked demure,

and the _séance_ closed very happily.

Next day, Mr. Cassall began fitting out in a style which threatened an

Arctic voyage of several winters at least; he was artfully encouraged by

the little jilt, and he was so intensely pleased with his yachting

clothes that he wore them in the grounds until he went away, which

proceeding raised unfeigned admiration among the gardeners and the

maids.

CHAPTER IV.

THE DENOUEMENT.

The stout-hearted old gentlemen ran out from the Colne in Blair's

schooner, and Freeman had orders to take the Schelling, Ameland,

Nordeney, and all the other banks in order. I need not go over the

ground again in detail, but I may say that Sir James was never

unobservant; he made the most minute notes and sought to provide against

every difficulty. The bad weather still held, and there were accidents

enough and illness enough, in all conscience. Cassall proposed to hang

somebody for permitting the cabins of the smacks to remain in such a

wildly unsanitary state; but beyond propounding this totally

unpractical suggestion he said little, and contented himself with steady

observation. One day he remarked to Sir James, "A lazy humbug would have

a fine time in our cruiser if he liked. Who, among us landsmen, durst

face weather like this constantly?"

"Yes; I've been thinking of that. You must have a regular masterful

Tartar of a surgeon, and make him bear all responsibility. Pick out a

good man, and give him a free hand; that seems the best thing to be

done."

The two observers saw all that Ferrier had seen, and suffered a little

of what he had suffered. Before they had their vessel's head pointed for

home, Cassall remarked: "That young Sawbones must have a reasonable

pluck, mind you, Roche. I find it hard enough to keep my feet, without

having to manage delicate operations; and you notice that we've heard at

least fifty of the men talk about this Ferrier's skill with his hands."

"That's your man, Cassall, if you only knew it. I shall make a point of

meeting him. You haven't seen my plans, have you? Well, I've employed

myself since we came out in trying to design every kind of fitting that

you're likely to need. I used to be very good at that kind of thing, and

I'm very glad my hand hasn't forgot its cunning. I shall test young

Ferrier's judgment over my drawings, and that will be a good pretext for

meeting him."

"The spring is on us now, Roche. We must use that youngster to get at

people. He must have some kind of personal magnetism. Did you notice how

that fellow choked and sobbed when he told us how the youngster refused

to leave him during the gale? A good sign that. We must have parties to

meet him, and let him do the talkee-talkee lecturing business. I

shouldn't wonder if my girl found the nerve to speak. If you had only

heard her oration delivered for my private gratification, you would have

been pretty much amazed. She shall spout if she likes."

"I see you've set up a new hobby, my friend, and I can back you to ride

hard. Seriously speaking, I never knew any cause that I would assist

sooner than this. That fellow Fullerton was once described to me by a

Jew as 'hare-brained.' It needed a curious sort of hare-brain to build

up such an organization as we have seen. I may tell you a little secret,

as we are alone. When I was fighting my way up, I was very glad to

attend a working man, and I starved genteelly for a long time in a big

fishing-port. I assure you that in those days a fisherman was the most

ill-conditioned dog on God's earth. He knew less of goodness than a dog

does, and I think you could see every possible phase of hoggishness and

cruel wickedness on a Saturday night in that town. It used to be a mere

commonplace to say that no one should venture into the fishermen's

quarter after dark. There is a big change. You snarl at parsons a good

deal, I know, but you can't snarl at what we have seen. You are quite

right, and I mean to help spur your new hobby as hard as I can."

* * * * *

After Robert Cassall had been some days at

home, Mr. Fullerton received the following

letter:--

DEAR SIR,--As arranged at our last meeting, I went out to view

your work among the North Sea fishermen, and I am satisfied

that I may assist your admirable efforts. In this letter I

merely sketch my proposals in an informal manner, but my

solicitors, Messrs. Bowles and Gordon, Gresham Buildings, will

be ready at any time to meet a deputation from the Council of

the Mission, so that my wishes may be accurately stated, and

all business settled in strict legal form.

1. I propose to build a steam cruiser of 350 tons, and I am

now engaged in consulting with practical men concerning those

technical details of which I have scanty knowledge.

2. This cruiser I wish to support entirely at my own expense;

and, after my decease, the capital sum set aside for the

maintenance of the vessel will pass into the hands of the

Council. 3. I should naturally desire to have some voice in

the appointment of trustees, and also in the selection of the

medical staff; but no doubt my solicitors will arrange that to

the satisfaction of all parties.

4. My niece, Miss Marion Dearsley, is intensely interested in

your work, and, as a very large sum of money belonging to that

lady remains at my disposal as her trustee, I have, with her

approval, transferred to the Mission £30,000 Great Northern

Railway ordinary shares, with which we desire to found a

maintenance fund for a vessel of 200 tons. This transaction

has been carried out at the urgent desire of my niece. I am

informed that this sailing cruiser must be schooner-rigged on

account of her tonnage, which would require an unworkable

spread of canvas if she were rigged as a ketch. These matters

I leave entirely to the experts whom I have retained.

5. Should you agree to my terms, and should you also come to a

thoroughly clear understanding with my legal representatives,

the building of the vessels may proceed at once. I will have

nothing but the _best_, and therefore I will ask you to let me

act directly and indirectly as superintendent of the

construction of the ships. I have already taken the liberty of

engaging a practical and scientific seaman--a merchant

captain--who will, with your permission, watch over the

building of the vessels to the last rivet.

6. We learn that Mr. Ferrier has returned. Could you and he

make it convenient to come to us from Saturday next until

Monday? In that time we may have much useful talk.

7. In conclusion, you will perhaps not be displeased if an old

man, who has not your strong faith, ventures nevertheless to

ask God's blessing on you and your Mission.

With much admiration and regard,

I am, dear sir,

Your obedient servant,

ROBERT CASSALL.

H. Fullerton, Esq.

Committees of charitable organizations are not usually wanting in

complaisance toward gentlemen who can spare lump sums of £130,000; so

Mr. Cassall and his lawyers had very much of their own way. On the day

when the last formal business was completed, Fullerton and our young

savant, both in a state of bewildered exaltation of spirit, paid their

visit to Mr. Cassall. Ferrier was strangely dumb in presence of Miss

Dearsley, but he made up amply for his silence when he was alone with

the men. Robert Cassall observed, however, that the youngster never

spoke of himself. Once or twice the old man delicately referred to

certain little matters which had occurred during the January gales--the

amputation, the rescue of Lennard, the rough trips from smack to smack,

the swamping of the small boat: but Ferrier was too eager for other

people's good; he had so utterly forgotten himself that he hardly

recognized Mr. Cassall's allusions. On the first evening at dinner Mr.

Cassall said: "Now, Marion, you and Miss Lena must stay with us. She's

not an orator like you; she was meant for a mouse, but you can do all

the talk you like. And now, gentlemen, let me lay a few statements

before you. I shall talk shorthand style if I can. First, I want Mr.

Ferrier to be our first medical director, and I wish him to take the

steamer on her first cruise. After that, if he likes to be a sort of

inspector-general, we can arrange it. Next, I want to draw some more

people into Mr. Fullerton's net. Excuse the poaching term. Mr. Ferrier

and Mr. Fullerton can teach us, and I wish to begin with a big party

here as soon as possible. After that, our young friend must go

crusading. I'll provide every kind of expense, and we'll regard his

engagement as beginning to-day if he likes. Next, I may tell you that I

have already arranged for men to work night and day in relays on both my

vessels--or rather your vessels. Mr. Director-General must see his

hospital wards fitted out to the last locker, and I've taken another

liberty in that direction. There's your cheque-book, and you are to draw

at Yarmouth or London for any amount that you may think necessary. And

now I fancy that is about all I need say."

Then Mr. Cassall smiled on his dumb-foundered hearers.

Ferrier said, "I must eventually stay on shore, I fear. I have resigned

the professorship which I had hoped to keep; but I do not need to

practise, and I am ready to see your venture well started."

Then the host finally insisted on hearing all about the cruise; he could

understand every local allusion now, and the narrative touched him far

more than any romance could have done. The girls dropped in a word here

and there, for they claimed to be among the initiated, and thus an

evening was spent in piling fresh fuel on the old gentleman's newborn

fire of enthusiasm.

There never was such an elderly tornado of a man. After church on Sunday

he packed the girls off in the pony-carriage, and then took his guests

for a most vehement walk, during which he asked questions in a voice as

vehement as his gait, and set forth projects with all the fine breadth

of conception and heedlessness of cost which might be expected from an

inspired man with a practically inexhaustible fund at his disposal.

The good Henry Fullerton had long walked in darkness; doubts had been

presented to him; jibes and sneers had hailed upon him; all sorts of

mean detractors had tried to label him as visionary, or crackbrain, or

humbug, or even as money-grub: and now the clouds that obscured the wild

path along which he had fared with such forlorn courage were all lifted

away, and he saw the fulfilment of the visions which had tantalized him

on doleful nights, when effort seemed vain and hope dead. He maintained

his serenity, and calmly calculated pounds and shillings with all the

methodic coolness of a banker's clerk. On the Sunday evening he was

asked to confer privately with Mr. Cassall, and Ferrier was left free.

Of course Lewis proposed a stroll in the grounds--what young man would

have missed the opportunity?--and he listened delightedly to that

musical, girlish talk for which he had longed during his tremendous

vigils on the Sea of Storms.

Miss Ranken was in a flutter of exultation. "Did you ever know any one

so clever as Marion?" she inquired, with quite the air of an elderly

person accustomed to judge intellects. "We knew she could do anything

with Mr. Cassall, but we never expected this. And now, Mr. Ferrier, you

won't go and get drowned in nasty cabins any more, and you'll have your

sailors all under your eye, and no more degenerate sea-sick ladies to

plague you. Why, now we've made a start, we must capture some more

millionaires, and we'll have a vessel with every fleet, and no sick men

lying on grimy floors. By the way, what a capital association that would

be--The Royal Society for the Capture of Millionaires. President and

Organizing Director, Marion Dearsley; Treasurer, Lena Ranken; General

Agent for Great Britain and the Colonies, Lewis Ferrier! Wouldn't that

be splendid? I begin to feel quite like an administrator."

This was the very longest speech that Miss Ranken was ever known to

make, and she was applauded for her remarkable excursion into practical

affairs.

"You must tell us a little more about your winter, Mr. Ferrier. Lena

hasn't heard half enough," observed the stately "little jilt" when the

cataract of Miss Ranken's eloquence had ceased flowing.

"Better wait until the meeting, Miss Dearsley. Then, if you are

satisfied, I may be able to do something in different places."

"But you will tell us how Tom Betts fared in the end?"

"He was well and at work when we left his fleet, and he had established

a sort of elaborate myth, with you as central figure. I'm afraid you

would never recognize your own doings if you heard his version of them.

Tom's imagination is distinctly active. We had no bad mishaps with our

men, but it was a dreadful time."

"I think you seem to be more solemn and older than when you went away

first, Mr. Ferrier," remarked the Treasurer of the Capturers.

"One ages fast there; I really lived a good deal. One life isn't enough

for that work. I suppose the Englishmen began working on the Banks two

hundred years ago, and we have all that time of neglect to make up."

"Yes. I wonder now what was the use of our ancestors. My brother says

that no philosopher has ever discovered the ultimate uses of babies; I

wonder if any one can tell the uses of those blundering, silly old

ancestors of ours. As far as I can see, we have to put up with all sorts

of horrid things, and you have to go and get wet on dirty fishing-boats,

just because our ancestors neglected their proper business and stayed

lazy at home."

"You mustn't start a Society for the Abolition of Ancestors, Miss

Ranken. We have to make up all lost ground, and we can't help it. I'm

sorry almost that I take it all so seriously. I feel so very much like a

middle-aged prig. Perhaps, Miss Dearsley, we may grow more cheerful when

your uncle and I (and you) are fairly at work and clear of brooding. At

present I seem to exude lectures and serious precepts."

"You go to Yarmouth after the meeting, Mr. Ferrier?"

"Yes; we must all of us copy you, and humour your uncle. I can see he

feels time going very fast, and I shall play at being in a hurry all the

time I am looking after the new vessels."

"My uncle says I must speak to our meeting."

"Why not? If you like, I can bring some good lady orators to keep you in

countenance."

"I shall consider. I don't think we ought to talk; but we cannot afford

to neglect any fancy of uncle's."

Ferrier never heard so queer a speech from a girl before. She had

evidently made up her mind to face an ordeal which would stagger the

nerves of the "young person" of the drawing-room; and her deliberate

acceptance of a strained and unnatural situation pleased him. He

thought, "If she ever does take to the platform, the capture of the

millionaires is sure to begin."

Cassall and Fullerton looked very solemn and satisfied during the

evening, and both of them were just a little tiresome in recurring to

their new and exhaustless topic.

The old man was off to Yarmouth long before his guests were astir, for a

fever of haste was upon him. He returned in the evening, and until

Saturday he was employed with his beautiful secretary in making the most

lordly preparations for the great meeting--the first of the series which

was to revolutionize rich people's conceptions of duty and necessity.

A very brilliant company assembled; the old man was an artist in his

way, and he had spread his lures with consummate tact. How on earth he

got hold of eminent pressmen, I cannot tell; but then, eminent pressmen,

like the rest of our world, are distinctly susceptible to the

blandishments of amiable millionaires. Sir John Rooby, the ex-Lord

Mayor, appeared in apoplectic importance; Lady Glendower, who had

expended a fortune on the conversion of the Siamese, also waited with

acute curiosity; every name on every card there was known more or less

to Secretaries, to Missionary Societies, to begging-letter writers--to

all the people who run on the track of wealth. The great saloon, which

reached from the front, right across the mansion to the windows that

overlooked the park, was filled fairly; and Ferrier was not a little

perturbed by the sight of his audience.

Mr. Cassall soon ended all suspense by coming to the point in his quick

fashion. (He would not have succeeded as a parliamenteer, for he had a

most uncultivated habit of never using forty words where five would

serve.) "Sir John, my lords, ladies, and gentlemen,--I have lately

returned from a voyage in the North Sea among the Fishing Fleets. That

was perhaps a foolish trip for an old man to make, in a world of

rheumatics and doctors' fees; but I'm very glad I made it. Most people

are very ready to point out the faults of others: I have to point out

my own. I learned that I had been unwittingly neglecting a duty, and now

I blame myself for remissness. It's very pleasant to blame yourself,

because it gives you such a superior sense of humility, and I am

enjoying the luxury to the full. I saw a great deal of beautiful and

promising work going on, and I saw ever so much pain, and squalor, and

unnecessary unhappiness. I needn't tell you that I've made up my mind to

assault that pain and squalor and unhappiness, and try to drive them out

of the field; I needn't tell you, because the newspapers have done that

for me. They always know my business as well as I know it myself. Now it

struck me that many men are as ignorant as I was. I know that some

people continually go about imagining evil; but there are others who are

constantly seeking for chances of doing good, and they jump at their

chance the moment they clap eye on it. That is why I arranged this

meeting. I cannot describe things, nor put out anything very

lucidly--except a balance-sheet; but I have a young friend here, who

has been at sea all winter in those ugly gales that made us so

uncomfortable on shore, and he will tell us something. Then we have also

Mr. Fullerton, who has been working and speechifying to some purpose for

years. While I was pur-blind, this gentleman was clear-sighted; and, if

you could go where I have been, and see the missionary work that I have

seen, you would never speak ill of a missionary again. I do not believe

ill of men. Some one among our statesmen summed up his ideas of life by

saying, 'Men are very good fellows, but rather vain.' I should say, 'Men

are mixtures; but few can resist the temptation to do a good action if

they are shown how to do it.' Now, we're all very comfortable here--or I

hope so, at all events; and it will do us good to hear of strong, useful

men who never know what comfort means--and that through no fault of

their own, but only through the strange complications of civilized

society. I call on Mr. Fullerton to address this meeting." Fullerton

rose and faced his audience like a practised hand. His trance-like

intensity of gaze might have led you to think that he was going to pour

out a lengthy speech: but he had tact; he knew that he would please

Cassall and the audience by letting them hear the words of a new man,

and he merely said: "For years I have addressed many meetings, and I

have worked and prayed day and night. Help has risen up for me, and now

I am content to be a humble member of the company who have agreed in

their hundreds to aid in my life's work. I am but an instrument to be

laid aside when my weary day is over and my Master's behests fulfilled.

I see light spreading, darkness waning, kindness growing warmer, purity

and sobriety become the rule in quarters where they were unknown; and I

am thankful--not proud, only thankful--to have helped in a work which, I

believe, is of God. We are now near the attainment of a long dream of

mine, thanks to Robert Cassall; and, when the fulfilment is complete, I

care not when I may be called on to say my 'Nunc dimittis.' And now I

will not stand longer between you and Mr. Ferrier." Thus, with one

dexterous push Ferrier found himself projected into the unknown depths

of his speech. He was easy enough before students, but the quick

whispers, the lightning flash of raised eye-glasses, the calm, bovine

stare of certain ladies, rather disconcerted him at first. But he warmed

to his work, and in deliberate, mathematical fashion wrought through his

subject. He told of the long Night; the dark age of the North Sea. The

little shivering cabin-boy lay on his dank wooden couch, and curled

under the wrench of the bitter winter nights; he had to bear a hard

struggle for existence, and, if he were a weakling, he soon went under.

Alas! there had been instances, only too well authenticated, of boys

being subjected to the most shocking treatment--though we would not

saddle upon the majority of fishermen the responsibility for this

cruelty on the part of a few. "What could a boy know of good?" said the

speaker, with a sharp ring of the voice. "Why, the very name of God was

not so much as a symbol to him; it was a sound to curse with--no more;

and it might have seemed to a man of bitter soul that God had turned

away His face from those of His human works that lived, and sinned, and

suffered and perished on the grey sea." Then Ferrier showed how the

light of new faith, the light of new kindness, had suddenly shot in on

the envenomed darkness, like the purifying lightning that leaps and

cleans the obscured face of a murky sky. He told of the incredulity

which greeted the first missionaries, and he explained that the men

could not think it possible that any one should care to show them human

sympathy; he traced the gradual growth of belief, and passionate

gratitude, and he then turned dexterously off and asked, "But how could

you touch men's souls with transforming effect, where the poor body--the

humble mask through which the soul gazes--was torn with great pain, or

perplexed with pettier ills? My lords, ladies, and gentlemen, I have

seen, in one afternoon, suffering home with sombre acquiescence,

suffering the very sight of which in all its manifold dreariness would

have driven you homeward shuddering from this beautiful place. Till this

good man--I will say this great man--carried his baffling compound of

sacred zeal and keen sense into that weary country, those toiling

sailors were hopeless, loveless, comfortless, joyless, and--I say it

with awe--heavenless; for scarcely a man of them had knowledge or

expectation of a life wherein the miseries of this one may be redressed

in some far land where Time is not." Then the youngster coldly, gravely

told of his surgical work, and it seemed as if he were drawing an

inexorable steel edge across the nerves of his terrified hearers. He

watched the impression spread, and then sprang at his peroration with

lightning-footed tact. "We English are like barbarians who have been

transferred from a chilly land to a kind of hot-house existence. We are

too secure; no predatory creature can harm us, and we cultivate the

lordlier and lazier vices. Our middle class, as Bismarck says, has 'gone

to fat,' and is too slothful to look for the miseries of others. The

middle-class man, and even the aristocrat, are both too content to think

of looking beyond their own horizon. And yet we are good in essentials,

and no tale of pity is unheeded--if only it be called forth loudly

enough. Let us wake our languid rich folk. They suffer from a

surfeit--an apoplexy--of money. An eager, wakeful, nervous American

plutocrat, thinks nothing of giving a large fortune to endow a hospital

or an institute for some petty Western town. Are we meaner or more

griping than the Americans? Never. Our men only want to know. Here is a

work for you. I do not call our fishermen stainless; they are rude, they

are stormy in passions, they are lacking in self-control; but they are

worth helping. It is not fitting that these lost children of

civilization should draw their breath in pain. Help us to heal their

bodies, and maybe you will see a day when their strength will be your

succour, and when their rescued souls shall be made in a glory of good

deeds and manly righteousness." There was no mistake about the effect

of this simple speech. I cannot give the effect of the timbre of

Ferrier's voice, but his virility, his majestic seriousness, just

tinctured by acuteness, and his thrill of half-restrained passion, all

told heavily.

Slowly the party dispersed to the tents on the lawn, and many were the

languidly curious inquiries made about the strange young professor who

had turned missionary. The man himself was captured by Lady Glendower,

who explained her woe at the perfidious behaviour of Myung Yang, the

most interesting convert ever seen, who was now in penal servitude for

exercising his imitative skill on my lady's signature. "And I expended a

fortune, Mr. Ferrier, on those ungrateful people. Is it not enough to

make one misanthropic?"

"Your ladyship must begin again on a new line."

"After hearing you, and all about those charmingly horrid accidents, I

am almost tempted to take your advice."

Ferrier was invited to address at least a dozen more drawing-room

meetings, and Sir John Rooby grunted, "Young man! I'm ready to put a set

of engines in that boat of Cassall's, and you can have so much the more

money for her maintenance."

Before Ferrier went to Yarmouth he heard that Fullerton was astounded at

the number of financial sheep who had followed the plucky bell-wether.

Said he, "We shall never turn our backs now. There will be three

hospital cruisers on the stocks before the autumn, and your steamer will

serve to supply them when we have them at work. If I were not fixed on

God's firm ground, I should think I had passed away and was dreaming

blissfully."

Oh! the fury and hurry around that steamer! Men were toiling without

cessation during all night and all day; one shift relieved another, and

Cassall employed two superintendents instead of one. The way the notion

came to him was this:--he had an abrupt but most essentially pleasant

way of getting into conversation with casual strangers of all ranks,

and he always managed to learn something from them. "Nice smack that on

the stocks," he remarked to a bronzed, blue-eyed man who was standing

alert on a certain quay.

"Yes, sir. That's honest oak. I like that. But that other's not so

honest."

"You mean the steamer?"

"Yes, sir. I don't like the way things goes along. The surveyor's been

down. He and the manager are having champagne together now, and you may

bet there's some skulking work going on in the dark corners. I know the

ocean tramps, sir. Many's the time I've seen the dishonest rivets start

out of 'em like buttons of a woman's bodice if it's too tight. If I was

an owner, and building a vessel, I'd test every join and every rivet

myself. You force a faulty plate into place, and the first time your

vessel gets across a sea she buckles, and there's an end of all."

"You understand shipbuilding?"

"Only a sailor does, sir. He has the peril; the builders have the

money."

"What are you?" "Merchant captain, sir," said the stout man, turning on

the questioner a clear, light blue eye that shone with health and

evident courage.

"Are you in a situation?"

"My vessel's laid up, sir, and I'm waiting to take her again."

"I'm not impertinent, but tell me your wages."

"Ten pound a month, and good enough too, these bad times."

"Then if you'll superintend the building of a vessel for me, I'll give

you £150 a year--or at that rate, and you shall have a smaller vessel

afterwards, if you care to sail a mere smack."

And so the bargain was struck, and Captain Powys was employed as

bulldog, a special clause being inserted in the contract to that effect.

"Men won't like it," said the builder. "They'll lead him a life."

"Tell them, if they do, you lose your contract and they lose their

work." So the splendid little steamer grew apace; she was composite,

and Cassall took care that she should be strong. The most celebrated

living designer of yachts had offered to make the drawings for nothing,

out of mere fondness for Cassall, but the old gentleman paid his heavy

fee. If any one can design a good and safe vessel it is the

yacht-builder, whose little thirty tonners are expected to run quite

securely across the Bay in the wild autumn. The _Robert Cassall_ had not

a nail or bolt in her that was not scrutinized by a stern critic. "Never

mind fancy work or fancy speed. Give me perfect collision bulk-heads;

perfect watertight compartments; make her unsinkable, and I don't care

if you only make her travel ten knots--that's good enough for the North

Sea."

Powys asked and obtained an assistant to take a turn on the day or night

shifts, and the British workmen were held hard in hand by two acute and

most critical mariners.

Robert Cassall had value for every penny of his money, but he certainly

did not spare the place. His friend the yacht-builder twice came to see

how the work was going on, and he said, "You'll be able to run her round

the Horn if you like. You see I took care that she shouldn't kick like

those steam-carriers. You'll find her as stiff as they make them."

Sir John Rooby resolved that the peerless engines which he provided

should be fitted under cover, so, as soon as the hull was completed, the

engineers began their work; and as it turned out, the experiment of

launching a boat with all engines complete was an entire success. Sir

James Eoche came and watched the fitting of all the appliances designed

by him, and it seemed that he was as exquisite in mechanical skill as he

was sagacious in treatment of disease. Ferrier was afraid that the

vehement old man would wear him out, but he bottled his impatience, and

sought repose in the gentle society of Sir James. The two medicos

pottered on with pulleys and wheels and inclined planes with much

contentment, and they satisfied themselves at last that a man might be

picked up in any sea, and swiftly placed under cover, without sustaining

a jar severe enough to hurt even a gouty subject.

Cassall did not like the workmen to be discontented over his incessantly

vigilant superintendents, so, with his inexhaustible good-humour and

resolution, he hit on a mode of conciliation. He met both shifts on a

Friday, and said, "Now, men, I'm not a bad sort even if I _am_

determined not to have a scamped nail in my vessel. Now you're working

hard, and we'll show the prettiest vessel in England presently, so

to-morrow we'll have two brakes here at eleven o'clock, all who like

will drive to a certain little place that I know of, and we'll have a

rare good dinner together, and come home in the evening. We'll have no

spirits, and no shaky hands for Monday. Plenty of good, pure spring

water with orange champagne for those who like it."

This was a very successful announcement, and Robert presided at table

with extreme satisfaction on account of his own Machiavellian

astuteness. Oh! those millionaires. What chances they have!

The scene at the launch of the _Robert Cassall_ was imposing. The Queen,

it was thought, would be present; but an intensely exciting and close

general election had just taken place, and Her Majesty was occupied with

relays of the gentlemen who are good enough to carry on the operation

known as Governing the Country; so that the bunting and the manifold

decorations served to grace the progress of a Royal Duke, who brought

his August Mother's message.

I have nothing to do with the speeches this time; I only know that the

steamer looked superb, with her gay stripe, and her beautiful trim on

the water. The town was in a state of excitement until nightfall, and

the people who had tickets to view the Fisherman's Palace passed in a

steady and orderly procession over the broad deck; through the smart

main ward with its polished oak floor; through the operating-room, and

through the comfortable, unostentatious club-room, which had been

designed by Lewis Ferrier. Robert Cassall was silently ecstatic now

that the pinch of his work was over; and he had good reason to be proud,

for no prettier or more serviceable piece of work was ever bought with

money, and no man on earth need have grudged to exchange the costly

obscurity of the monumental stone, for this beautiful memorial which

promised to be the pride of the North Sea.

The riggers went hard at work; the captain and crew were sent on board

to assist, and thus before the autumn storms broke once more, the

_Robert Cassall_ was ready for sea.

The whole fabric seemed to have risen like a vision, and the most

hopeful of those who endured that cruel gale the year before could

hardly believe that they were not deceived by some uneasy, uncanny

dream.

The steamer surged away past the pier on her first trip, and a dense

black crowd cheered and shouted blessings after her.

"Ah! they jeered me the first time I sailed from here under that flag.

Thank God for the wonderful change," said Fullerton. "Never mind

bygones. There's a good stiff sea outside. Let us watch how she takes

it."

The sturdy old man was triumphant, satisfied with himself and his work,

and he only wished to see how the contrivance of his audacious, teeming

brain would succeed. Tom Lennard was on board again; and he only

recovered from a congestion of adjectives on the brain, after he had

fairly freed his nerves by smoking a pipe. He was still subdued, and he

never let loose that booming laugh of his except on supremely important

occasions. He attached himself much to Miss Dearsley, and, as he was

passionately fond of talking about Lewis Ferrier, his company was

surprisingly grateful to the young lady. Blair could not be with them,

but he religiously promised to give Ferrier a lively time in the spring.

The party of five were enough in themselves, and they watched with all

the pride of successful people as their vessel, the offspring of dreams,

flew over the seas without plunging or staggering. The captain came

aft.

"Well, sir, this is better than wind-jamming. I think she's doing

elevens easily, and, if the wind comes round a bit, she shall have the

try-sails, and I warrant she does twelve."

"You'll go right for the Short Blues, as we arranged?"

"We shall pick them up in eighteen hours from now, sir, and I'll be glad

if we haven't to work your patent sling, though I'd like to see it

tried."

When the night came, and the men were smoking in Ferrier's room, the

young man suddenly said, "Mr. Cassall, I hope you'll live to see at

least six of these ships knocking about. In the meantime I'd sooner have

your memorial than that awful, costly abortion of Byron's. I mean the

one with a cat, or a puppy or something, sprawling at the man's feet."

Cassall slowly smiled.

"Not bad; not bad. But wait till I'm done, my lad; wait till I'm done.

I've managed a beginning; I've designed a scheme for a ship, and now

I'm bent on something bigger. Wait. I mean to move the conscience of

your plutocrats, and I shall do it the hard, City style; see if I

don't."

"Hah-h! Meantime this, sir, is, as I may say, _recherché_, unique,

fahscinating."

"I must set _my_ watch now," laughed the surgeon, and he whistled for

the male nurses. He had drilled them to perfection in a week or two, and

they had no easy time with him, for he was resolved to have naval

precision and naval smartness on board the _Cassall_; and Tom was

thankful that a man whose cheek showed chubby signs of containing a quid

of tobacco, was not instantly suspended from the gaff. That was what he

said, at any rate.

The _Robert Cassall_ picked up the fleet just when the boarding was at

its height, and her arrival caused a wild scene. Work and discipline

were forgotten for a while: men set off flares which were absurdly

ineffective in daylight; they jumped on the thofts of boats, ran up the

rigging, and performed all sorts of clumsy antics out of sheer

goodwill, as the beautiful steamer worked slowly along, piling up a

soft, snowy scuffle of foam at her forefoot. The spare hands who had

been brought out for the cruise yelled salutations to friends, and one

of them casually remarked: "If this had happened before the drink was

done away with, there would have been a funny old booze in some o' them

ar smacks, just for excitement like." There were no patients from the

first fleet excepting one man with that hideous poisoned hand which,

like death, cometh soon or late to every North Sea fisher. He was sent

back for his kit; one of the _Cassal's_ hands was sent in his place, and

the steamer rushed away after leaving a stock of tobacco with the

Mission smack.

In the next fleet the same scenes made things in general lively. The

skipper of the ordinary Mission smack came on board, and joyously cried:

"I'm main glad you're come, sir. We've got one case that beats me. I

can't do anything at all." Sir James Eoche's boat with the balanced

stretcher was sent, and a crippled man was whipped up and slid along

the boarding-stage before he had time to recover from his surprise. He

had a broken patella--a nasty case--and he had gained the distinction of

being the first man put to bed in that airy, charming ward. He will

probably claim this honour with more or less emphasis during the rest of

his lifetime. I fear that curiosity of an aggravated kind caused one or

two gentlemen to be suddenly afflicted with minor complaints; but

Ferrier had a delightful way of dealing with doubtful martyrs, and the

vessel was soon cleared of them.

So the _Robert Cassall_ scoured the North Sea like a phantom, sometimes

crawling in the wake of the fleet when the gear was down, sometimes

flying from one bank to another. In the course of two long, sweeping

rounds she proved that she was worth all the other cruisers put

together--for medical and surgical purposes alone. Danger was reduced to

a minimum, and the sick men were, one by one, returned safely to their

own vessels. When, on a rather calm day, a tubular boat was tried, and

a prostrate man was seen flying over the water with what intelligent

constables call "no visible means of support," the general opinion of

the smacksmen was that no one never knowed what would come next. Some

gentlemen threatened to be gormed if they did not discover a solution of

this new and awful problem; others, more definite, were resolved to be

blowed; and all the oldsters were agreed that only a manifest injustice

could have caused them to be born so soon.

Robert Cassall was at length assured by experience that his enterprise

had quadrupled the power of the Mission, and he only longed to see how

his little miracle would succeed in winter. As for Lewis, he set himself

to make a model hospital; his men were made to practise ambulance work

daily; they had practical lectures in the evening, and, in a month,

before the coals had given out, the mere attendants could have managed

respectably if their adored martinet had given in from any cause. One

last picture before the _Bobert Cassall_ makes her brief scurry home.

The long sea was rolling very truly; the sick men in the wards were

resting--clean, quiet, attentive; the nurses lounged at the dispensary

door; Tom Lennard leaned his great bulk against the elaborately solid

machinery which Ferrier had designed for purposes of dentistry, and the

grim, calm old man sat with a tender smile in his eyes which contrasted

prettily with the habitual sternness of his mouth.

A deep contralto voice was intoning a certain very noble fragment of

poetry from a book that the men loved to hear when its words were spoken

by that stately dame, who now read on from psalm to psalm: "For I said

in my haste, I am cut off from before Thine eyes; nevertheless, Thou

heardest the voice of my supplications when I cried unto Thee."

"Amen," said Fullerton. "Amen," added the other three men. "Amen," said

the sick sailors; and the Amen rustled softly above the lower rustle of

the water that fled past the sides of the swift vessel. We shall see

this brave hospital ship again, for I want to dream of her for long and

many a day. Meantime, adieu, sweet lady; adieu.

APPENDIX A.

Since I set down a picture of my North Sea dream, I have passed through

a valley of shadows. The world of men seemed to be shut out; the Past

was forgotten, or, through the dark, vague trouble, Death smiled on me

coldly, as if to warn me that my pulses must soon be touched with ice.

In that strange trance my petty self was forgotten, and I waited quietly

till I should be bathed in the flood of bliss to which Death is but the

Portal. As from some dim, far land there came echoes of storm and

stress, and then swift visions of the sea flitted past my eyes. While

gazing languidly on the whirl of the snow, or listening to the thunder

of winds in the clamorous night, I thought, as it were in flashes, about

the fishermen who people the grey country that I used to know.

Nevermore, oh! nevermore shall I see the waves charging down on the

gallant smacks. All is gone: but my little share of a good work is done;

I have warmed both hands before the fire of Life; it sinks, and I am

ready to depart.

The dream has begun to come true in a way which is rather calculated to

astound most folks: a hospital vessel, the _Queen Victoria_, is actually

at work, and has gone out on the wintry sea just at the time when the

annual record of suffering reaches its most intense stage; a scheme at

which grave men naturally shook their heads has been shown to be

practicable, and we see once more that the visionary often has the most

accurate insight into the possibilities of action. To those who do not

go to sea I will give one hint; if a man is sent home on the long

journey over the North Sea, he not only suffers grievously but he loses

his employment, and his family fare badly. _If he be transferred to the

hospital ship his place is filled for a little while by one of the spare

hands whom the Mission sends out, and his berth is saved for him._ I do

not deny that the scheme is rather impressive in the magnitude of its

difficulty; but then no man breathing--except its originator--would ever

have fancied, five years ago, that the Mission would become one of the

miracles of modern social progress. If comfortable folks at home could

only see how those gallant, battered fishermen suffer under certain

circumstances of toil and weather, they would hardly wonder at my

putting forward the hospital project so urgently. By rights I ought to

have spoken about other branches of the Mission's work, but the

importance of the healing department has overshadowed all other

considerations in my mind. To Dare, and Dare again, and Dare always, is

the one plan that leads to success in philanthropy as surely as it leads

to success in politics or war. Those who have undertaken to civilize

our Deep Sea fishermen must continue to dare without ceasing; they must

_educate_ the thousands of good men and women whose sacred impulses lead

them to aim at bettering this blind and struggling world; spiritual

enthusiasm must be backed by material force, and the material force can

only be gained when the great, well-meaning, puzzled masses are

enlightened. We all know the keen old saying about the man who makes two

blades of grass grow where one grew before. How much more worthy of

thankfulness is the man who gives us a harmless, devout citizen in place

of a ruffian, a hale and capable seaman in place of an agonized cripple,

a quiet abstainer in place of a dangerous debauchee, a seemly

well-spoken friend of society in place of a foul-mouthed enemy of

society? Up till very recent years the fishermen were a rather debauched

set, and those who had money or material to barter for liquor could very

easily indulge their taste. Sneaking vessels--floating grogshops--crept

about among the fleets, and an exhausted fisherman could soon obtain

enough fiery brandy to make him senseless and useless. The foreigners

could bring out cheap tobacco, and the men usually went on board for the

tobacco alone. But the shining bottles were there, the sharp scent of

the alcohol appealed to the jaded nerves of men who felt the tedium of

the sea, and thus a villainous agency obtained a terrible degree of

power. I have, in a pamphlet, explained how the founder of the Mission

contrived to defeat and ruin the foreign liquor trade, and I may do so

again in brief fashion. Our Customs authorities at that date would not

let the Mission vessels take tobacco out of bond, and Mr. Mather was,

for a long time, beaten. But he has a somewhat unusual capacity for

mastering obstacles, and he contrived to sweep the copers off the sea by

the most audacious expedient that I have heard of in the commercial

line. A great firm of manufacturers offered tobacco at cost price; the

tobacco was carried by rail from Bristol to London; it was then sent to

Ostend, whence a cruiser belonging to the Mission cleared it out, and it

was carried to the banks and distributed among the fleets. A fisherman

could buy this tobacco at a shilling per pound. The copers were

undersold, and they found it best to take themselves off. No one can

better appreciate this most dashingly beneficial action than the

smack-owners, for their men are more efficient and honest; the fishermen

themselves are grateful, because few of them really craved after drink,

and the general results are obvious to anybody who spends a month in the

North Sea. We know the Six Governments most intimately concerned have

seen the wisdom of this action, and one of the best of modern reforms

has been consummated. The copers did a great amount of mischief

indirectly, apart from the traffic in spirits. If some of our reformers

at home could only see the prints and pictures and models which were

offered for sale, they would own, I fancy, that if the Mission had done

no more than abolish the traffic in literary and other abominations, it

has done much. A few somewhat particular folk object to supplying the

men with cheap tobacco, but any who knows what intense relief is given

to an overworked man by the pipe will hardly heed the objection much.

After a heavy spell of work, a seaman smokes for a few minutes before

the slumberous lethargy creeps round his limbs, and he is all the better

for the harmless narcotic.

In this land of plethoric riches there are crowds of people who treat

philanthropy as a sort of investment; they place money in a sinking fund

and they forego all interest. We want to show them one line of

investment wherein they may at least see plenty of results for their

money. Speaking for myself, I should like to see money which is amassed

by Englishmen concentrated for the benefit of other Englishmen. Looking

at the matter from a cool and business-like point of view, I can see

that every effort made to keep our fishermen in touch with the mass of

their countrymen, is a step towards national insurance--if we put it on

no higher ground. In the old days the fisher had no country; he knew

his own town, but the idea of Britain as a power--as a mother of

nations--never occurred to him; the swarming millions of inland dwellers

were nothing to him, and he could not even understand the distribution

of the wares which he landed. The Mission to Deep Sea Fishermen has

brought him into friendly contact with much that is best among his

countrymen; he is no longer exiled for months together among thousands

of ignorant celibates like himself; he finds that his fortunes are

matters for vivid interest with numbers of people whose very existence

was once like a hazy dream to him; and, above all, he is brought into

contact during long days with sympathetic and refined men, who

incidentally teach him many things which go far beyond the special

subjects touched by amateur or professional missionaries. A gentleman of

breeding and education meets half a dozen smacksmen in a little cabin,

and the company proceed to talk informally. Well, at one time the

seamen's conversation ran entirely on trivialities--or on fish. As soon

as the subject of Fish was exhausted, the exiles growled their comments

on Joe's new mainsail, or the lengthening of Jimmy's smack; but nowadays

the men's horizon is widened, and the little band of half a dozen who

meet the missionary are eager to learn, and eager to express their own

notions in their own simple fashion. The gentleman, of course, shows his

fine manners by granting attention to all his rough friends when they

talk, and the smacksmen find that, instead of a preacher only, a man who

withdraws himself to his private cabin when his discourse has been

delivered, they have among them a kindly fellow-worker, who enters with

the true spirit of _camaraderie_ into all that interests or concerns

them, and gives counsel and cheery chat without a sign of patronage.

Then, after the little meeting is over, and the evening begins to fall,

the fascinating landsman will stroll on the deck for a few minutes,

until the smack's boats come over the great seas to bear away the

visitors; all his gossip is like a revelation to the rude, good-hearted

creatures, and his words filter from vessel to vessel; his very accent

and tone are remembered; and when the hoarse salute "God bless you!"

sounds over the sea, as the boats go away, you may be sure that the

fishers utter their blessing with sincere fervour. Then there are the

great meetings on calm, happy Sundays, when the cultured clergyman who

has snatched a brief rest from his parochial duties, or five or six

amateurs (many of them University men) stroll about among the

congregation before the formal service begins. The roughs who come on

board for the first time are inclined to exhibit a sort of resentful but

sheepish reserve, until they find that the delicate courtesy of these

Christian gentlemen arises from sheer goodwill; then they become

friendly and confidential. Well, all this intercourse is gradually

knitting together the upper and middle classes on shore and the great

seagoing population; the fishers feel that they are cared for, and the

defiant blackguardism of the outcast must by and by be nearly unknown.

I feel it almost a duty to mention one curious matter which came to my

notice. An ugly morning had broken with half a gale of wind blowing; the

sea was not dangerous, but it was nasty--perhaps nastier than it looked.

I was on board a steam-carrier, a low-built, powerful iron vessel that

lunges in the most disturbing manner when she is waiting in the trough

of the sea for the boats which bring off the boxes of fish. The little

boats were crashing, and leaping like hooked salmon, and grinding

against the sides of the steamer, and I could not venture to walk about

very much on that reeling iron deck. The crowd of smacksmen who came

were a very wild lot, and, as the breeze grew stronger, they were in a

hurry to get their boxes on board. Since one of the trunks of fish

weighs 80 lbs., I need hardly say that the process of using such a box

as a dumb-bell is not precisely an easy one, and, when the dumb-bell

practice has to be performed on a kind of stage which jumps like a

bucking broncho, the chances of bruises and of resulting bad language

are much increased. The bounding, wrenching, straining, stumbling mob in

the boats did not look very gentle or civilized; their attire was quite

fanciful and varied, but very filthy, and they were blowzy and tired

after their wild night of lashing rain and chill hours of labour. A

number of the younger fellows had the peculiar street Arab style of

countenance, while the older men were not of the very gentle type. In

that mad race against wind and tide, I should have expected a little of

the usual cursing and fighting from a mob which included a small

percentage of downright roughs. But a tall man, dressed in ordinary

yachtman's clothes, stood smoking on deck, and that was the present

writer. The rough Englishmen did not know that I had been used to the

company of the wildest desperadoes that live on earth. They only knew

that I came from the Mission ship, and they passed the word. Every rowdy

that came up was warned, and one poor rough, who chanced to blurt out a

very common and very nasty Billingsgate word, was silenced by a

moralist, who observed, "Cheese it. Don't cher see the Mission ship

bloke?" I watched like a cat, and I soon saw that the ordinary hurricane

curses were restrained on my account, simply because I came from the

vessel where all are welcome--bad and good. For four hours I was saluted

in all sorts of blundering, good-humoured ways by the men as they came

up. Little scraps of news are always intensely valued at sea, and it

pleased me to see how these rude, kind souls tried to interest me by

giving me scraps of information about the yacht which I had just left.

"She was a-bearing away after the Admiral, sir, when we passed her. It's

funny old weather for her, and I see old Jones a-bin and got the torps'l

off on her"--and so on. Several of the fellows shouted as they went,

"Gord bless you, sir. We wants you in the winter." No doubt some of them

would, at other times, have used a verb not quite allied to bless; but I

could see that they were making an attempt to show courtesy toward an

agency which they respect, and though I remained like a silent Lama,

receiving the salutes of our grimy, greasy friends, I understood their

thoughts, and, in a cynical way, I felt rather thankful to know that

there are some men at least on whom kindness is not thrown away. The

captain of the carrier said, "I never seen 'em so quiet as this for a

long time, but that was because they seed you. They cotton on to the

Mission--the most on 'em does."

This seems to me a very pretty and significant story. Any one who knows

the British Rough--especially the nautical Rough--knows that the luxury

of an oath is much to him, yet here a thorough crowd of wild and excited

fellows become decorous, and profuse of civilities, only because they

saw a silent and totally emotionless man smoking on the deck of a

steam-carrier. On board the steamer, I noticed that the same spirit

prevailed; the men treated me like a large and essentially helpless

baby, who must be made much of. Alas! do not I remember my first trip on

a carrier, when I was treated rather like a bundle of coarse fish? The

reason for the alteration is obvious, and I give my very last experience

as a most significant thing of its kind. Observe that the roughest and

most defiant of the irreligious men are softened by contact with an

agency which they regard as being too fine or too tiresome for their

fancy, and it is these irregular ruffians who greet the Mission smacks

with the loudest heartiness when they swing into the midst of a fleet.

Now, I put it to any business man, "Is not this a result worth paying

for, if one wants to invest in charitable work?" I repeat that the

Mission is indirectly effecting a national insurance; the men think of

England, and of the marvellous army of good English folk who care for

them, and they are so much the better citizens. We hear a dolorous howl

in Parliament and elsewhere about the dearth of seamen; experts inform

us that we could not send out much more than half our fleet if a pinch

came, because we have not enough real sailors. Is it not well for us, as

Britons, to care as much as we can for our own hardy flesh and

blood--the finest pilots, the cleverest seamen, the bravest men in the

world? They would fight in the old Norse fashion if it came to that, and

they would be the exact sort of ready-made bluejackets needed to man the

swarms of _Wasps_ which must, some day, be needed to defend our coasts.

So far for purely utilitarian considerations. Again, supposing you take

on board a hospital ship a man who is enduring bitter suffering;

supposing you heal him, bring him under gentle influences, lead him to

know the Lord Jesus Christ and to follow Him, and send him away with his

personality transformed--is not all that worth a little money, nay, a

great deal? I am fully aware that it is a good thing to convert a Jew or

a Bechuana, or even a Fantee--their rescue from error is a distinct

boon; but, while honouring all missions to savage nations, I like to

plead a little for our own kindly breed of Englishmen. Already we see

what may be done among them; good-hearted amateurs are willing to work

hard, and the one hospital cruiser--One! among so many!--is succeeding

splendidly. Give the English seamen a chance, then.

The interesting West African is clearly a proper object for pity as to

his spiritual condition, but, to my mind, he has, in some respects, the

jolliest, easiest life imaginable. Give him enough melon, and he will

bask blissfully in the sun all day; you cannot get him to work any more

than you can get him to fight for his own safety:--he is a happy, lazy,

worthless specimen of the race, and life glides pleasantly by for him.

Spend thousands on the poor Fantee by all means, but think also of our

own iron men who do _not_ lead easy lives; think of the terror of the

crashing North Sea; think of the cool, imperturbable, matchless braves

who combat that Sea and earn a pittance by providing necessaries (or

luxuries) for you and for me. Save as many souls as you can--"preach the

gospel to _every creature;_" heal as many bodies as you can; but, since

the world's resources are narrow, consider carefully which bodies are

to have your first consideration.

Years ago I had no conception of the amount of positive suffering which

the fishermen endure. I was once on board a merchant steamer during a

few months, and I was installed as surgeon-in-chief. We had a few cases

which were pretty tiresome in their way, but then the utmost work our

men had to do was the trifle of pulling and hauling when the try-sails

were put on her, and the usual scraping and scrubbing and painting which

goes on about all iron ships. But the smacksman runs the risk of a hurt

of some kind in every minute of his waking life. He must work with his

oilskins on when rain or spray is coming aboard, and his oilskins fray

the skin when the edges wear a little; then the salt water gets into the

sore and makes a nasty ulcer, which eats its way up until you may see

men who dare not work at the trawl without having their sleeves doubled

to the elbow. Then there are the salt water cracks which cut their way

right to the bone. These, and toothache, the fisherman's great enemy,

are the ailments which may be cured or relieved by the skippers of the

Mission smacks. In a single year nearly eight thousand cases have been

treated in the floating dispensaries, and I may say that I never saw a

malingerer come on board. What would be the use? It is only the stress

of positive pain that makes the men seek help, and their hard stoicism

is very fine to see. A man unbinds an ugly poisoned hand, and quietly

lets you know that he has gone about his work for a week with that

throbbing fester paining him; another will simply say that he kept about

as long as he could with a broken finger. Then there are cases of a

peculiarly distressing nature--scalp wounds caused by falling blocks,

broken limbs in various stages of irritation, internal injuries caused

by violent falls in bad weather, and for all these there is ready and

hearty help aboard the Mission vessel.

Scarcely one of the North Sea converts has turned out badly, for they

usually have the stern stuff of good men in them; they have that manly

and passionate gratitude which only the true and honest professor, free

from taint of humbug or hypocrisy, can maintain, and I say deliberately

that every man of them who is brought to lead a pure, sober, religious

life, represents a distinct gain to our best national wealth--a wealth

that is far above money.

I know that my dream may be translated into fact, for have we not the

early success of the superb hospital smack to reassure us? Let us go a

little farther and complete the work; let us make sure that no poor,

maimed seaman shall be without a chance of speedy relief when his hard

fate overtakes him on that savage North Sea. The fishers are the forlorn

hope in the great Army of Labour; they risk life and limb every

day--every moment--in our behoof; surely the luckier children of

civilization may remember their hardly entreated brethren? No sentiment

is needed in the business, and gush of any sort is altogether hateful.

God forbid that I should hinder, those who feel led to aid the members

of an unknown tribe in a dark continent, for in so doing I should be

contravening the Divine injunction to evangelize all nations: but, on

the other hand, I will discharge myself of what has lain as a burden on

my conscience ever since I first visited the smacksmen; I will cry aloud

for _help_ to our own kith and kin, more, _more_ HELP than has ever yet

been given to them!

These men are splendid specimens of English manhood; their country is

not far away; you can visit it for yourself and see what human nerve and

sinew can endure, and if you do you will return, as I did, filled with a

sense of shame that you had spent so many years in ignorance of your

indebtedness to the fine fellows in whose behalf my tale is written. I

am as grateful as our brave souls on the sea for all that has been done,

but I incontinently ask for more, and I entreat those to whom money is

as nothing to give the Mission to Deep Sea Fishermen its hospital ship,

for every fleet that scours the trawling grounds, but especially a fast

or steam cruiser--a _Robert Cassall_--so that the wounded fisherman, in

the hour of his need and his utter helplessness, may be as sure of

relief as are the Wapping labourer or the Mortlake bargeman.

JAMES RUNCIMAN.

APPENDIX B.

Mission to Deep Sea fishermen.

Instituted in August, 1881.

The Mission was designed, in humble dependence upon the blessing of

Almighty God,--

1. To carry the Glad Tidings of God's Love, Mercy, and Salvation in our

Lord Jesus Christ to the thousands of Fishermen employed in trawling and

other modes of fishing in the North Sea and elsewhere, and in every

possible way to promote and minister to their spiritual welfare.

2. To mitigate the hard lot, and improve the condition of the Fishermen,

physically and mentally, by all practicable means, and meet many urgent

needs for which, heretofore, there has been no provision, especially in

supplying medicine and simple surgical appliances, books, mufflers,

mittens, &c.

For the above purposes Medical Mission vessels are stationed with ten

fishing fleets, and numerous Clerical and Lay Missionaries and Agents

have visited the Smacksmen. It is, however, generally conceded that the

time has arrived for effecting a large development of the Medical work.

No fewer than 7,485 sick and injured fishermen received assistance

during 1888 at the hands of the sixteen surgeons in the service of the

Society, or from the Dispensaries in charge of the Mission Skippers, and

the experience of this and previous years warrants the substitution in

every fleet of a cruising Hospital, carrying a resident Surgeon, for the

type of vessel hitherto in use.

The _Queen Victoria,_ the Pioneer Hospital Ship, is now at work, while

the _Albert_, a sister ship, is being constructed at a cost of £3,750;

but it is of urgent importance that these should be efficiently

maintained, and that other vessels should be provided for similar

service.

To meet this need the full price [£3,750] of a _third_ Hospital Ship, to

be named the _John Sidney Hall_, has now been paid to the Mission, and

£1,300 towards the cost of a _fourth_, to be named the _Alice Fisher_. A

further sum of £2,450 is required upon this latter fund.

FORM OF BEQUEST.

"I give and bequeath to the Treasurer for the time being of the MISSION

TO DEEP SEA FISHERMEN, whose offices are now at Bridge House, 181, Queen

Victoria Street, London, E.C., for the general purposes of that Mission,

the sum of----pounds [state in words]. And I declare that the said

Legacy shall be paid free from Legacy Duty, and that the same, and the

Legacy Duty thereon, shall be paid exclusively out of such part of my

Personal Estate as may be lawfully bequeathed for charitable purposes,

and in priority to all other payments thereout."

MISSION TO DEEP SEA FISHERMEN.

Patron.

HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN.

Founder.

E.J. MATHER, ESQ.

Council.

THOMAS B. MILLER, ESQ., Chairman and Treasurer.

W.F.A. ARCHIBALD, Esq.

R.M. BALLANTYNE, Esq.

C. ARTHUR BARCLAY, Esq.

Rev. W. ADDINGTON BATHURST, M.A.

HENRY A. CAMPBELL, Esq.

THOMAS GRAY, Esq., C.B., Chairman of Finance Committee.

F.J.S. HOPWOOD, Esq.

R. SCOTT MONCRIEFF, Esq.

THOMAS ROBERTSON, Esq.

Rev. JOSEPH E. ROGERS, M.A.

A.T. SCHOFIELD, Esq., M.D.

T. GILBART-SMITH, Esq., M.D., F.R.G.P.

FREDERICK TREVES, Esq., M.A., F.R.C.S., &C., Chairman of Hospital

Committee.

Hon. Naval Architect

HENRY E. BROWN, ESQ., M.I.N.A.

Editor.

G.A. HUTCHISON, ESQ.

Auditors.

MESSRS. BEDDOW & SON.

Solicitors.

JAMES CURTIS, ESQ.

MESSRS. SEAGROVE & WOODS.

Bankers.

LLOYDS BANK, Limited, 72, Lombard Street, E.C.

MESSRS. GURNEYS & CO., Great Yarmouth.

Secretary.

ALEXANDER GORDON, ESQ.

Offices.

Bridge House, 181, Queen Victoria Street, London, E.C.

"I rejoice to know that this most important and blessed effort has

already achieved such good results out on the stormy seas. It rests with

us to contribute liberally to its maintenance."--The Archbishop of

Dublin.

"The undertaking is a blessed one, and will be accepted by our Heavenly

Father as an offering of true devotion."--The Bishop of London.

"I desire to express my most cordial sympathy with the active efforts of

the Mission, and my earnest hope that the public will liberally support

it."--The Bishop of Norwich.

"It does one's heart good to watch the benefit conferred by these

Mission smacks. God bless them! They go forth in the fulness of the

blessing of the Gospel of Christ."--The Bishop of Exeter.

"I have myself heard smacksmen speak in most grateful terms of what the

Mission has done for their class; and I recently heard one of the

largest owners state publicly that his employés had become 'better

servants, better men, better husbands and fathers, better in every way,'

through the work carried on amongst them while at sea."--The Duke of

Grafton, K.G.

"The only effectual attempt that has been made to counteract the work of

the _coper_ has been carried on through the agency of the Mission

smacks. It is not, as a rule, easy to estimate how much or how little

practical good is effected by missionary agencies, but here the case is

clear. I gladly add my own testimony to that of others, and say that, at

present, the Mission affords the only relief from the temptation and the

only remedy to the evils of the _copering_ system."--W. Burdett Coutts,

Esq., M.P.

"I look upon the Mission vessel as a blessing to the trade of the

port."--The Mayor of Great Grimsby.

"It is indeed an advantage for our fishermen at sea by means of these

vessels to enjoy the same privileges as we ourselves do on shore."--The

Mayor of Great Yarmouth.