The Lively Poll Part 12

"Ah, she'll steer for other fleets where there's no opposition,"

remarked the skipper.

"To win our first race is a good omen," said John Binning, with much satisfaction. "May the _copers_ be thus beaten from every fleet until they are beaten from the North Sea altogether!"

"Amen to that," said Fred Martin heartily. "You feel well enough now, sir, to think of undertaking service to-morrow, don't you?"

"Think of it, my friend! I have done more than think," exclaimed the student; "I have been busy while in bed preparing for the Sabbath, and if the Master sends us calm weather I will surely help in the good work you have begun so well."

And the Master did send calm weather--so calm and so beautiful that the gla.s.sy sea and fresh air and bright blue sky seemed typical of the quiet "rest that remaineth for the people of G.o.d." Indeed, the young student was led to choose that very text for his sermon, ignoring all his previous preparation, so impressed was he with the suitability of the theme. And when afterwards the boats of the various smacks came trooping over the sea, and formed a long tail astern of the _Sunbeam_, and when the capacious hold was cleared, and packed as full as possible with rugged weather-beaten men, who looked at the tall pale youth with their earnest inquiring gaze, like hungering men who had come there for something and would not be content to depart with nothing, the student still felt convinced that his text was suitable, although not a single word or idea regarding it had yet struggled in his mind to get free.

In fact the young man's mind was like a pent-up torrent, calm for the moment, but with tremendous and ever-increasing force behind the flood-gates, for he had before him men, many of whom had scarcely ever heard the Gospel in their lives, whose minds were probably free from the peculiar prejudices of landsmen, whose lives were spent in harsh, hard, cheerless toil, and who stood sorely in need of spiritual rest and deliverance from the death of sin. Many of these men had come there only out of curiosity; a few because they loved the Lord, and some because they had nothing better to do.

Groggy Fox was among them. He had come as before for "baccy,"

forgetting that the weed was not sold on Sundays, and had been prevailed on to remain to the service. d.i.c.k Martin was also there, in a retired and dark corner. He was curious to know, he remarked, what the young man had to talk about.

It was not till after prayer had been offered by the student that G.o.d opened the flood-gates. Then the stream gushed forth.

"It is," said the preacher--in tones not loud, but so deep and impressive that every soul was at once enthralled--"it is to the servants of the devil that the grand message comes. Not to the good, and pure, and holy is the blessed Gospel or good news sent, but, to the guilty, the sin-stricken, the bad, and the sin-weary G.o.d has sent by His blessed Spirit the good and glorious news that there is deliverance in Jesus Christ for the chief of sinners. Deliverance from sin changes G.o.dless men into the children of G.o.d, and there is _rest_ for these. Do I need to tell toilers of the deep how sweet rest is to the tired-out body? Surely not, because you have felt it, and know all about it better than I do. But it _is_ needful to tell you about rest for the soul, because some of you have never felt it, and know not what it is.

Is there no man before me who has, some time or other, committed some grievous sin, whose soul groans under the burden of the thought, and who would give all he possesses if he had never put out his hand to commit that sin? Is there no one here under the power of that deadly monster-- strong drink--who, remembering the days when he was free from bondage, would sing this day with joy unspeakable if he could only escape?"

"Yes," shouted a strong voice from a dark corner of the hold. "Thank G.o.d!" murmured another voice from a different quarter, for there were men in that vessel's hold who were longing for the salvation of other as well as their own souls.

No notice was taken of the interrupters. The preacher only paused for an instant as if to emphasise the words--"Jesus Christ is able to save to the _uttermost_ all who come to G.o.d through Him."

We will not dwell on this subject further than to say that the prayer which followed the sermon was fervent and short, for that student evidently did not think that he should be "heard for his much speaking!"

The prayer which was thereafter offered by the Admiral of the fleet was still shorter, very much to the point, and replete with nautical phrases, but an uncalled-for pet.i.tion, which followed that, was briefest of all. It came in low but distinct tones from a dark corner of the hold, and had a powerful effect on the audience; perhaps, also, on the Hearer of prayer. It was merely--"G.o.d have mercy on me."

Whatever influence might have resulted from the preaching and the prayer on that occasion, there could be no doubt whatever as to the singing.

It was tremendous! The well-known powers of Wesleyan throats would have been lost in it. Saint Paul's Cathedral organ could not have drowned it. Many of the men had learned at least the tunes of the more popular of Sankey's hymns, first from the Admiral and a few like-minded men, then from each other. Now every man was furnished with an orange-coloured booklet. Some could read; some could not. It mattered little. Their hearts had been stirred by that young student, or rather by the student's G.o.d. Their voices, trained to battle with the tempest, formed a safety-valve to their feelings. "The Lifeboat" was, appropriately, the first hymn chosen. Manx Bradley led with a voice like a trumpet, for joy intensified his powers. Fred Martin broke forth with tremendous energy. It was catching. Even Groggy Fox was overcome.

With eyes shut, mouth wide open, and book upside down, he absolutely howled his determination to "leave the poor old stranded wreck, and pull for the sh.o.r.e."

But skipper Fox was not the only man whose spirit was touched on that occasion. Many of the boats clung to the mission vessel till the day was nearly past, for their crews were loath to part. New joys, new hopes, new sensations had been aroused. Before leaving, d.i.c.k Martin took John Binning aside, and in a low but firm voice said--"you're right, sir. A grievous sin _does_ lie heavy on me. I robbed Mrs Mooney, a poor widdy, of her little bag o' savin's--twenty pounds it was."

The latter part of this confession was accidentally overheard by Bob Lumsden. He longed to hear more, but Bob had been taught somehow that eavesdropping is a mean and dishonourable thing. With manly determination, therefore, he left the spot, but immediately sought and found his little friend Pat Stiver, intent on relieving his feelings.

"What d'ee think, Pat?" he exclaimed, in a low whisper, but with indignation in his eye and tone.

"I ain't thinkin' at all," said Pat.

"Would you believe it, Pat?" continued Bob, "I've just heerd that scoun'rel d.i.c.k Martin say that it _was_ him as stole the money from Mrs Mooney--from the mother of our Eve!"

"You _don't_ say so!" exclaimed Pat, making his eyes remarkably wide and round.

"Yes, I does, an' I've long suspected him. Whether he was boastin' or not I can't tell, an' it do seem strange that he should boast of it to the young parson--leastwise, unless it was done to spite him. But now mark me, Pat Stiver, I'll bring that old sinner to his marrow-bones before long, and make him disgorge too, if he hain't spent it all. I give you leave to make an Irish stew o' my carcase if I don't. Ay, ay, sir!"

The concluding words of Bob Lumsden's speech were in reply to an order from Skipper Lockley to haul the boat alongside. In a few minutes more the mission s.h.i.+p was forsaken by her strange Sabbath congregation, and left with all the fleet around her floating quietly on the tranquil sea.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

A CONSULTATION, A FEAST, AND A PLOT.

There was--probably still is--a coffee-tavern in Gorleston where, in a cleanly, cheerful room, a retired fisherman and his wife, of temperance principles, supplied people with those hot liquids which are said to cheer without inebriating.

Here, by appointment, two friends met to discuss matters of grave importance. One was Bob Lumsden, the other his friend and admirer Pat Stiver. Having asked for and obtained two large cups of coffee and two slices of b.u.t.tered bread for some ridiculously small sum of money, they retired to the most distant corner of the room, and, turning their backs on the counter, began their discussion in low tones.

Being early in the day, the room had no occupants but themselves and the fisherman's wife, who busied herself in cleaning and arranging plates, cups, and saucers, etcetera, for expected visitors.

"Pat," said Bob, sipping his coffee with an appreciative air, "I've turned a total abstainer."

"W'ich means?" inquired Pat.

"That I don't drink nothin' at all," replied Bob.

"But you're a-drinkin' now!" said Pat.

"You know what I mean, you small willain; I drink nothin' with spirits in it."

"Well, I don't see what you gains by that, Bob, for I heerd Fred Martin say you was nat'rally `full o' spirit,' so abstainin' 'll make no difference."

"Pat," said Bob sternly, "if you don't clap a stopper on your tongue, I'll wollop you."

Pat became grave at once. "Well, d'ee know, Bob," he said, with an earnest look, "I do b'lieve you are right. You've always seemed to me as if you had a sort o' dissipated look, an' would go to the bad right off if you gave way to drink. Yes, you're right, an' to prove my regard for you I'll become a total abstainer too--but, nevertheless, I _can't_ leave off drinkin'."

"Can't leave off drinkin'!" echoed Bob.

Pat shook his head. "No--can't. 'Taint possible."

"Why, wot _do_ you mean?"

"Well, Bob, I mean that as I've never yet begun to drink, it ain't possible for me to leave it off, d'ee see, though I was to try ever so hard. Howsever, I'll become an abstainer all the same, just to keep company along wi' you."

Bob Lumsden gave a short laugh, and then, resuming his earnest air, said--

"Pat, I've found out that d.i.c.k Martin, the scoun'rel, has bin to Mrs Mooney's hut again, an' now I'm sartin sure it was him as stole the 'ooman's money--not because I heerd him say so to Mr Binning, but because Eve told me she saw him flattenin' his ugly nose against her window-pane last night, an' recognised him at once for the thief.

Moreover, he opened the door an' looked into the room, but seein' that he had given Eve a terrible fright, he drew back smartly an' went away."

"The willain!" exclaimed Pat Stiver, snapping his teeth as if he wanted to bite, and doubling up his little fists. It was evident that Bob's news had taken away all his tendency to jest.

"Now it's plain to me," continued Bob, "that the willain means more mischief. P'r'aps he thinks the old 'ooman's got more blunt hid away in her chest, or in the cupboard. Anyhow, he's likely to frighten poor Eve out of her wits, so it's my business to stop his little game. The question is, how is it to be done. D'ee think it would be of any use to commoonicate wi' the police?"

The shaking of Pat Stiver's head was a most emphatic answer.

"No," said he, "wotiver you do, have nothin' to do wi' the p'leece.

They're a low-minded, pig-headed set, wi' their `move on's,' an' their `now then, little un's;' an' their grabbin's of your collars, without no regard to w'ether they're clean or not, an' their--"

"Let alone the police, Pat," interrupted his friend, "but let's have your adwice about what should be done."