THE EMIGRANT SHIP AND OUR KIND CAPTAIN--GET ON BOARD A HOMEWARD-BOUND
SHIP--AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER--MY OLD CAPTAIN--A CONVERTED MAN--A
CRIPPLED SHIP--LAND AT BERMUDA--ONCE MORE SAIL FOR ENGLAND--PRESSED
AGAIN.
The good ship _Nieuwland_ made rapid progress. Though I was flying away
from home and all I longed to be with, yet anything was better than
moving slowly. If we did not fall in with any ship in which I might
return, I felt that the sooner I got to the end of the voyage, the
sooner I might be starting back again. The gale continued for several
days; the wind at length dropped and then came ahead, blowing stronger
than ever. It was now necessary to heave the ship to.
In performing the operation, a heavy sea struck her bows, and two more
of the crew were washed overboard. Happily the emigrants were below, or
many would probably have shared the same fate.
I had now what I much required, abundance of work as a seaman. When it
is well for a person to fly from his own thoughts, there is nothing like
useful occupation to help him along; nothing is so bad as to allow
oneself to dwell on one's misfortunes. The best advice I can give to a
man when he is unhappy, is to go and help others. He will find plenty
of people requiring his aid, and numbers far more unhappy than himself.
The ship had suffered a good deal during the gale, and we began to be
apprehensive for her safety should the weather continue bad; but it soon
cleared up, and we had every hopes of reaching our port in a week or ten
days at the farthest. The day after the fair weather set in, a sail was
reported ahead. As we drew near each other, we saw that she was in a
very shattered condition. She was a brig, we perceived, but only one
mast was standing. Her bowsprit was carried away, and her foremast was
gone by the board.
Our captain made a signal to ask what assistance was required. The
answer was, "Some spars for our foremast and bowsprit, and some hands
who may be willing to return to England to help navigate the ship. We
have lost five overboard."
Our kind captain called us all aft. "Here is an opportunity for those
who may desire it to return home," said he. "The brig is in no very
good plight, as you see; but many a vessel in a worse condition has made
a safe voyage. I will not advise you either way. I shall be very sorry
to lose you, but you are at liberty to go."
We thanked him very much for this additional proof of his love of
justice and fair dealing, and La Motte and I consulted together what we
would do. I at all events was ready to run every risk for the sake of
returning home. I also felt that we might be the means of saving the
brig and the people on board her.
La Motte agreed to accompany me; so we told the captain that we would
go. Andrews and another man said that they would accompany us. Our
captain therefore signalled that he would afford all the help asked for,
and told the people in the brig in the meantime to send a boat on board
us. As we passed under the counter of the brig, previous to heaving to,
a man standing on her taffrail hailed us through his speaking-trumpet:
"We cannot do what you ask; we have not a boat that can swim, and we
have only four hands remaining on board."
It struck me as I looked at the man that I knew his figure, and even the
tone of his voice; but where I had seen him I could not tell. While the
ship was being hove-to, we went round to bid farewell to the numerous
friends we had found on board. Had we been brothers, we could not have
been treated more kindly, and to no one was our gratitude more due than
to the honest Bremen captain.
The boat was ready; we stepped into her, with a couple of spars towing
astern. The captain took his seat in the stern-sheets.
"I'll go on board and see my brother skipper," said he. "Now, my sons,
farewell. I shall not forget you, and you will not forget me, I hope.
We may never meet together again in this world, or we may; but I hope
that we shall all be steering the same course to that world which will
last for ever and ever. Don't ever forget that world, my sons.
Whatever you do, wherever you go, always keep it in view. It is of more
value than gold or much fine gold. Get, I say, on that course, and do
not let any one ever tempt you to alter it. In fair weather or foul,
steadily steer for it, and you will be sure to make it at last."
We all listened attentively to the good man's words; he spoke with so
much earnestness, and had given us so strong a proof of his practical
Christianity, that we could not but feel that they merited our respect.
The captain of the brig--the same man who had hailed us with the
speaking-trumpet--stood at the gangway to receive us when we pulled
alongside.