The _Polly_ had made good progress on her voyage, the North Foreland had
been rounded, and with a fair breeze under all sail she was running to
the north. There were numerous other colliers, brigs and schooners and
vessels of all sizes, scattered far and wide over the sea, some close at
hand, others mere specks, their loftier canvas just rising above the
clearly-defined horizon.
Poor Peter had had a hard life of it, ordered about by every one on
board, often receiving an undeserved cuff and kick, or finding the end
of a rope laid sharply across his shoulders when he did not understand
an order which he had never before heard issued. His clothes and face
and hands were now almost as dirty as those of his companions, although
he did his best to keep them clean, but he had received a rope's-ending
from the cook for taking fresh water for the purpose of washing himself,
and he found that the salt water had little effect on his skin. But he
did not complain. He had a source of comfort within him of which those
around knew nothing. What grieved him most was the fearful language he
heard hourly uttered, God's holy name profaned, foul oaths, and obscene
conversation. Whenever he could he endeavoured to escape from it. He
either tried to get on deck when his shipmates were below, or below when
they were on deck--to get anywhere where they were not. Still, so
persistent are depraved human beings under the influence of Satan, in
showing their enmity to those who love God, and to God Himself, that
they often followed him with their ribald shouts, and kept him forcibly
down among them.
Alas! this is no uncommon scene on board, not only many a collier, but
many a proud ship that sails over the ocean. Still, Peter had not read
his Bible in vain. Influenced by God's Holy Spirit, he knew that he
must return good for evil. Now and then, when a retort rose to his
lips, he sought for grace to repress it, and he either remained silent
or gave a mild reply. He persevered, too, in reading his Bible. Often
when the lantern was lit in the forepeak, and the watch below were
asleep, he would rise from his berth, and by its pale light sit on a
chest beneath it and read from the sacred page, although he could with
difficulty make out the words. At other times he would stow himself
away forward, and opening his beloved book, draw comfort and consolation
from it till he was summoned to some duty by one of his task-masters.
Two or three times he had stolen aloft unnoticed by those on deck, and
read uninterruptedly for an hour or more, but the mate at length
discovering him, called him down.
"I told you we don't allow idlers aboard," exclaimed old Jim, bestowing
several cuts with a rope's-end on his shoulders. "Don't let me ever
catch you again with your book aloft doing nothing, or overboard it
goes; we don't want psalm-singers or Bible-readers among us. Remember
my words."
Peter trembled with alarm for the safety of his book. The mate might
put his threat into execution, and what could he do to prevent it? Yet
he would fight hard before he would give it up, of that he was
determined. At the same time he knew that he must obey orders, and he
dare not again venture aloft to read. Even if he read on deck, he might
run the risk of losing his book. Yet read he must. He asked for
guidance and direction from above. The fear which had thus been aroused
of losing his Bible made him consider how he could still better secure
it. Hitherto he had carried it inside his shirt, with his waistcoat
buttoned over it. He now determined to make a canvas case and sling it
round his neck. One of the men had some canvas for mending his clothes.
Peter purchased a piece, together with some twine, with one of the few
shillings he had in his pocket, and borrowed a sail needle from the
mate, who lent it, not knowing the object it was for. Peter had watched
the men at work, and by perseverance manufactured a case to his
satisfaction, with a canvas strap to go round his neck. He could now
carry his Bible night and day, and if summoned suddenly on deck, he
would still have it with him, and should it enter the head of one of his
shipmates to try and take it from his bunk while he was on deck, he
would be disappointed. Peter now felt far more content than heretofore
about the safety of his Bible. He had frequently to go into the
captain's cabin to carry his meals from the caboose and to clean it out.
Generally Captain Hawkes took no notice of him, but one day, being in a
facetious humour, he exclaimed, "Well, boy, have you got through your
book yet?"
"No, sir," said Peter, "I don't expect to do so for a long time to
come."
"Look sharp, then," said the captain; "you will never be a sailor till
you have."
"I am afraid, sir, then, I never will become a sailor," said Peter,
quietly.
"How so?" asked Captain Hawkes.
"Because I shall wish to read the book till the last day of my life. I
want to read it to know how to live, and just as much to know how to
die."
"We can live very well without it, I have a notion," said the captain;
"but as to dying, that may be a different matter."
"Beg pardon, sir," said Peter, "but I have been taught that it is one
and the same thing. If you like, sir, I'll read to you all about it
from the book."
"No, no; I want none of your Bible reading," answered the captain.
"But, sir," said Peter, feeling a bold spirit rise within him, "if the
ship was to go down, and we all were drowned, and had to stand before
God, how those who had the words, `Depart, ye accursed, into everlasting
fire, prepared for the devil and his angels,' spoken to them would wish
that they had listened to God's word, and been prepared to meet Him as
their Judge."
"Get out of the cabin, you little canting hypocrite," exclaimed the
captain, fiercely, for God's words uttered by the young boy had struck
home to his conscience; but he "loved darkness rather than light,
because his deeds were evil," and he sought to avoid the light.
Peter went on deck with a feeling of deep sorrow at his heart that the
captain would not listen. He wished, however, that he had spoken to him
rather of God's love to sinners than of his threatenings. "The mention
of that great love might have touched his heart," he thought; "I will
tell him of it another time."
He often tried when he could speak alone to any of the men to get them
to allow him to read from his book; but he was told to keep it to
himself, no one on board wanted it. He hoped, however, to succeed by
perseverance; and perhaps when they found that he was becoming a smart
and active sailor, and could lay out on the yards and reef and steer as
well as any of them, they would be more ready to listen. He did his
utmost, therefore, to learn his duty as a seaman. Old Jim began to
treat him with less harshness than at first, and in his rough way gave
him instruction in the art he wished to acquire; he taught him to box
the compass and to steer, and even explained why various manoeuvres were
performed. Still, when Peter began to speak about the Bible, or
anything contained in it, he either turned a deaf ear or angrily told
him to mind his own business.
The Tyne was at last reached, and Peter's wonder was excited by the
large city he saw stretching up the hill, and the numerous other towns
and villages which lined the banks of that important river, but still
more by the numberless vessels taking in their cargoes of coal, shot
down into their holds from the cliffs above them. Much as he wished it
he was not allowed to go on shore, the captain suspecting that, like his
predecessors, he might not return. Though he had harder work than ever,
yet, having fewer task-masters, he was less ill-treated than before.
The _Polly_ having received her cargo, again put to sea, bound, Peter
heard, for the Thames.
Hitherto the weather had been fine, and he had escaped sea-sickness and
wet clothes. A few nights after leaving the Tyne it came on to blow
hard, with the wind right ahead, and the _Polly_ began to tumble about
in a way which made Peter feel very miserable. Sometimes, though under
close-reefed topsails, she heeled down so much that he could scarcely
stand on the wet slippery deck, and he fancied that she would go over
altogether. The dark green seas, with their foaming crests, rolled up
on either hand, and frequently broke on board in showers of spray, as
the brig ploughed her way amid them: now she rose to the top of a
mountain billow; now she plunged down on the opposite side, with her
bowsprit almost under water, and now the sea struck her and made her
frame quiver fore and aft. The scene was a terrible one to look at--how
different from that Peter had witnessed the first day he had been at
sea!--still he did not fear; he knew that the same Almighty hand who
guarded him then protected him now, but he did feel that he might at any
moment be summoned into the presence of One he had loved on earth, and
who would, he knew, welcome him in heaven, not on account of any merit
of his own, but because he took Him at His word and trusted His Son,
whom He had sent to save sinners.
The men, and even the captain and mate, were more silent than usual,
though when they did speak they gave utterance to the same oaths which
had so often issued out of their mouths.
It was trying work on deck, and when Peter's watch was over, wet and
weary he was glad to go below; but when he lay down in his narrow berth,
the fearful blows which struck again and again on the bows of the ship
prevented him from sleeping. When he did at last drop off he was
quickly aroused by another blow, heavier than the former, which made him
fancy that the brig must have struck a rock; but on she again went,
battling her way across the stormy ocean.
The gale was increasing. At night, when he had again to go on deck, the
seas, though not so clearly visible as during the day, appeared much
higher, and threatened every instant to roll down upon the deck and
sweep every one off it. The fore-hatch was battened down, the crew
collected aft. When day dawned their faces looked pale and anxious, and
even Captain Hawkes and old Jim seemed to wish that the gale was over.
Peter heard the mate report to the captain that he had sounded the well,
and feared that the brig had sprung a leak. The pumps were rigged, and
the crew set to work on them. The quantity of clear water which came up
left no doubt about the matter. The men grumbled and swore, but worked
away. Peter was ordered to take his spell, and even old Jim and the
captain took theirs. All day long they worked away, and at night also.
No fire could be lighted in the caboose, for the seas broke so heavily
over the bows of the ship that they dashed in upon the fore-hatchway.
Such provisions as could be eaten without cooking were their only fare.
Peter wished to read the Bible to his shipmates, but the spray broke
over them in such dense showers that the leaves would have been wetted
through in an instant. He could recollect, however, many portions, and
great was the comfort they gave him. When he ventured to repeat them
aloud to those crouched down under the bulwarks near him, they told him
to be silent; it was not the time, with a gale blowing, to trouble them
with his notions.
"But where should we be if the brig does go down?" he asked, for he saw
the too great probability of that event occurring to make him hesitate
about speaking.
The men told him to hold his tongue and not trouble them. Numbers do
the same when warned of danger not more imminent than that which
threatened the brig's crew.
"Spell ho!" was the cry, and Peter and those he had spoken to took their
places at the pumps.
Another day came to an end. During the next night the water gained so
much on the pumps that Captain Hawkes resolved to head the brig in for
the land in the hopes of making some sheltering port. Whereabouts he
was he could not exactly tell. Again and again the well was sounded.
The night was pitchy dark, the wind blew harder than ever, and the
foam-topped seas raged round the hapless brig. The men laboured at the
pumps, the captain and mate working as hard as the rest, for they all
knew that their lives depended on their exertions.
Hour after hour passed by. Day was approaching. The captain thought
that they must be nearing the land. The men at length cried out that
they could work no more without food. Peter was sent down to get it.
He crept about in the dark searching in the lockers for what could be
found. He felt the water above his knees, but he was so wet that he did
not heed it; it was his duty to get the food, he would not return
without it. He fancied that he heard loud cries and shouting on deck,
though the howling and whistling of the wind and the roar of the sea
almost drowned all other sounds. Presently he was sensible that the
vessel had received a heavy blow. Another and another followed. He had
found the food he was sent for, and was making his way with a heavy load
up the companion ladder, when a sudden heave of the vessel threw it over
him, and he fell to the bottom. He was stunned with the fall and lay
insensible for awhile--how long he could not tell--but he recovered
after some time, and the ladder being jerked back into its place, he
scrambled up on deck. He saw no one. On looking over the side he
discovered the boat, with the captain and crew, pulling away a few
fathoms off. He shouted to them, entreating to be taken in. Old Jim
cried out in return:
"We will come for you." But either they found it impossible to return,
or feared that the boat would be stove in in making the attempt. Peter
supposed truly that they had quitted the brig, believing that she would
immediately sink. At that moment another sea struck her, and lifting
her up, she once more glided on. Fearing that she would again ground,
and that the next sea might sweep over her deck, he sprang to the main
rigging and climbed up into the top. Scarcely had he left the deck when
the water rushed completely over it. The brig, pressed by the sails
still set, glided slowly on. Lower and lower she sank; as she did so,
Peter climbed up to the topmast-head, and there he clung. He did his
utmost to escape death, though he was prepared to meet it. He caught
sight for a moment of the boat tossing amid the mass of foaming waters;
when he again looked in the direction he had last seen her, she was
nowhere visible.
In a little while he became conscious that the brig had ceased to sink.
In the east, towards where the faint streaks of returning day appeared
in the sky, the sea tumbled and tossed as wildly as before, but where
the masts of the brig rose above the surface the water was comparatively
calm. The vessel had indeed driven first on the tail or extreme point
of a bank, and then being forced over it, had drifted inside it some
little distance before she had gone down, being then protected from the
fury of the waves by the bank itself. All Peter knew, however, was that
he was clinging to the mast-head of a sunken vessel, that a storm raged
around him, and no human aid was at hand. He had no food, for he had
lost that when thrown from the ladder, and it was some time since he had
eaten; but he had saved his Bible, and he knew that his Father in heaven
would take care of him.