There was a day not far distant--my father had told my mother with a
touch of impatience that it _must_ come for all sons--when Skipper Tommy
took me with one of the twin lads in the punt to the Hook-an'-Line
grounds to jig, for the traps were doing poorly with the fish, the
summer was wasting and there was nothing for it but to take to hook and
line: which my father's dealers heartily did, being anxious to add what
fish they could to the catch, though in this slower way. And it was my
first time beyond the Gate--and the sea seemed very vast and strange and
sullen when we put out at dawn--and when the long day was near done the
wind blew gray and angry from the north and spread a thickening mist
over the far-off Watchman--and before night closed, all that Skipper
Tommy had said of harbours and flowers came true in my heart.
"We'll be havin' t' beat up t' the Gate," said he, as he hauled in the
grapnel.
"With all the wind she can carry," added little Jacky, bending to lift
the mast into the socket.
In truth, yes--as it seemed to my unknowing mind: she had all the wind
she could carry. The wind fretted the black sea until it broke all
roundabout; and the punt heeled to the gusts and endlessly flung her
bows up to the big waves; and the spray swept over us like driving rain,
and was bitter cold; and the mist fell thick and swift upon the coast
beyond. Jacky, forward with the jib-sheet in his capable little fist and
the bail bucket handy, scowled darkly at the gale, being alert as a cat,
the while; and the skipper, his mild smile unchanged by all the tumult,
kept a hand on the mainsheet and tiller, and a keen, quiet eye on the
canvas and on the vanishing rocks whither we were bound. And forth and
back she went, back and forth, again and again, without end--beating up
to harbour.
"Dear man!" said Skipper Tommy, with a glance at the vague black outline
of the Watchman, "but 'tis a fine harbour!"
"'Tis that," sighed Jacky, wistfully, as a screaming little gust heeled
the punt over; "an'--an'--I wisht we was there!"
Skipper Tommy laughed at his son.
"I does!" Jacky declared.
"I--I--I'm not so sure," I stammered, taking a tighter grip on the
gunwale, "but I wisht we was--there--too."
"You'll be wishin' that often," said Skipper Tommy, pointedly, "if you
lives t' be so old as me."
We wished it often, indeed, that day--while the wind blustered yet more
wildly out of the north and the waves tumbled aboard our staggering
little craft and the night came apace over the sea--and we have wished
it often since that old time, have Jacky and I, God knows! I had the
curious sensation of fear, I fancy--though I am loath to call it
that--for the first time in my life; and I was very much relieved when,
at dusk, we rounded the looming Watchman, ran through the white waters
and thunderous confusion of the Gate, with the breakers leaping high on
either hand, sharply turned Frothy Point and came at last into the
ripples of Trader's Cove. Glad I was, you may be sure, to find my mother
waiting on my father's wharf, and to be taken by the hand, and to be led
up the path to the house, where there was spread a grand supper of fish
and bread, which my sister had long kept waiting; and, after all, to be
rocked in the broad window, safe in the haven of my mother's arms, while
the last of the sullen light of day fled into the wilderness and all the
world turned black.
"You'll be singin' for me, mum, will you not?" I whispered.
"And what shall I sing, lad?" said she.
"You knows, mum."
"I'm not so sure," said she. "Come, tell me!"
What should she sing? I knew well, at that moment, the assurance my
heart wanted: we are a God-fearing people, and I was a child of that
coast; and I had then first come in from a stormy sea. There is a
song----
"'Tis, 'Jesus Saviour Pilot Me,'" I answered.
"I knew it all the time," said she; and,
"'Jesus, Saviour, pilot me,
Over life's tempestuous sea,'"
she sang, very softly--and for me alone--like a sweet whisper in my ear.
"'Unknown waves before me roll,
Hiding rock and treacherous shoal;
Chart and compass came from Thee:
Jesus, Saviour, pilot me!'"
"I was thinkin' o' that, mum, when we come through the Gate," said I.
"Sure, I thought Skipper Tommy might miss the Way, an' get t'other side
o' the Tooth, an' get in the Trap, an' go t' wreck on the Murderers,
an'----"
"Hush, dear!" she whispered. "Sure, you've no cause to fear when the
pilot knows the way."
The feeling of harbour--of escape and of shelter and brooding peace--was
strong upon me while we sat rocking in the failing light. I have never
since made harbour--never since come of a sudden from the toil and the
frothy rage of the sea by night or day, but my heart has felt again the
peace of that quiet hour--never once but blessed memory has given me
once again the vision of myself, a little child, lying on my mother's
dear breast, gathered close in her arms, while she rocked and softly
sang of the tempestuous sea and a Pilot for the sons of men, still
rocking, rocking, in the broad window of my father's house. I protest
that I love my land, and have from that hour, barren as it is and as
bitter the sea that breaks upon it; for I then learned--and still
know--that it is as though the dear God Himself made harbours with wise,
kind hands for such as have business in the wild waters of that coast.
And I love my life--and go glad to the day's work--for I have learned,
in the course of it and by the life of the man who came to us, that
whatever the stress and fear of the work to be done there is yet for us
all a refuge, which, by way of the heart, they find who seek.
* * * * *
And I fell asleep in my mother's arms, and by and by my big father came
in and laughed tenderly to find me lying there; and then, as I have been
told, laughing softly still they carried me up and flung me on my bed,
flushed and wet and limp with sound slumber, where I lay like a small
sack of flour, while together they pulled off my shoes and stockings and
jacket and trousers and little shirt, and bundled me into my
night-dress, and rolled me under the blanket, and tucked me in, and
kissed me good-night.
When my mother's lips touched my cheek I awoke. "Is it you, mama?" I
asked.
"Ay," said she; "'tis your mother, lad."
Her hand went swiftly to my brow, and smoothed back the tousled, wet
hair.
"Is you kissed me yet?"
"Oh, ay!" said she.
"Kiss me again, please, mum," said I, "for I wants--t' make sure--you
done it."
She kissed me again, very tenderly; and I sighed and fell asleep,
content.