The gale1 was a short-lived one. On the following morning the wind had decreased to a moderate breeze, and before night the sea had gone down sufficiently2 to allow the boat of Mr Jones’s sloop3 to come alongside of the floating light.
Before Jim Welton bade his friends good-bye, he managed to have an earnest and private talk with each of them. Although he had never been connected with the Gull4, he had frequently met with the men of that vessel5, and, being one of those large-hearted sympathetic men who somehow worm themselves into the affection and confidence of most of their friends and comrades, he had something particular to say to each, either in reference to wives and families on shore, or to other members of that distracting section of the human family which, according to Mr Welton senior, lay at the foundation of all mischief6.
But young Welton did not confine himself to temporal matters. It has already been hinted that he had for some time been in the habit of attending prayer-meetings, but the truth was that he had recently been led by a sailor’s missionary7 to read the Bible, and the precious Word of God had been so blessed to his soul, that he had seen his own lost condition by nature, and had also seen, and joyfully8 accepted, Jesus Christ as his all-sufficient Saviour9. He had come to “know the truth,” and “the truth had set him free;” free, not only from spiritual death and the power of sin, but free from that unmanly shame which, alas10! too often prevents Christians11 from taking a bold stand on the Lord’s side.
The young sailor had, no doubt, had severe inward conflicts, which were known only to God and himself, but he had been delivered and strengthened, for he was not ashamed of Christ in the presence of his old comrades, and he sought by all the means in his power to draw them to the same blessed Saviour.
“Well, good-bye, Jim,” said Mr Welton, senior, as his son moved towards the gangway, when the boat came alongside, “all I’ve got to say to ’ee, lad, is, that you’re on dangerous ground, and you have no right to shove yourself in the way of temptation.”
“But I don’t shove myself, father; I think I am led in that way. I may be wrong, perhaps, but such is my belief.”
“You’ll not forget that message to my mother,” whispered a sickly-looking seaman12, whose strong-boned frame appeared to be somewhat attenuated13 by disease.
“I’ll not forget, Rainer. It’s likely that we shall be in Yarmouth in a couple of days, and you may depend upon my looking up the old woman as soon after I get ashore14 as possible.”
“Hallo! hi!” shouted a voice from below, “wot’s all the hurry?” cried Dick Moy, stumbling hastily up on deck while in the act of closing a letter which bore evidence of having been completed under difficulties, for its form was irregular, and its back was blotted16. “Here you are, putt that in the post at Yarmouth, will ’ee, like a good fellow?”
“No, I ’aven’t. There it is hall right on the back.”
“Ay, that’s wot stands for Mrs Moy,” said Dick, with a good-natured smile.
“Sure now,” observed Jerry MacGowl, looking earnestly at the letter, “it do seem to me, for all the world, as if a cat had drawed his tail across it after stumblin’ over a ink-bottle.”
“Don’t Mrs Moy live in Ramsgate?” inquired Jim Welton.
“Of course she do,” replied Dick.
“But I’m not going there; I’m goin’ to Yarmouth,” said Jim.
“Wot then?” retorted Dick, “d’ee suppose the clerk o’ the post-office at Yarmouth ain’t as well able to read as the one at Ramsgate, even though the writin’ do be done with a cat’s tail? Go along with ’ee.”
Thus dismissed, Jim descended18 the side and was quickly on board the sloop Nora to which he belonged.
On the deck of the little craft he was received gruffly by a man of powerful frame and stern aspect, but whose massive head, covered with shaggy grey curling hair, seemed to indicate superior powers of intellect. This was Morley Jones, the master and owner of the sloop.
“More likely at the bottom of the sea,” answered Jim, quietly, as he went aft and looked at the compass—more from habit than from any desire to receive information from that instrument.
“Well, if I had been at the bottom o’ the sea, what then? Who’s to say that I mayn’t risk my life if I see fit? It’s not worth much,” he said, gloomily.
“You seem to forget that in risking your own life you risk the lives of those who sail along with you,” replied Jim, with a bold yet good-humoured look at the skipper.
“And what if I do risk their lives?—they ain’t worth much, either, I’m sure?”
“Not to you, Morley, but worth a good deal to themselves, not to mention their wives and families and friends. You know well enough that if I had wished ever so much to return aboard last night your boat could not have got alongside the Gull for the sea. Moreover, you also know that if you had attempted to put to sea in such weather, this leaky tub, with rotten sails and running gear, would have been a wreck20 on the Goodwin sands before now, and you and I, with the two men and the boy, would have been food for the gulls21 and fishes.”
“Not at all,” retorted Jones, “there’s not much fear of our lives here. The lifeboat crews are too active for that; and as to the sloop, why, she’s insured you know for her full value—for more than her value, indeed.”
Jones said this with a chuckle22 and a sly expression in his face, as he glanced meaningly at his companion.
“I know nothing about your insurance or your cargo23, and, what’s more, I don’t want to know,” said Jim, almost angrily. “You’ve been at Square-Tom again,” he added, suddenly laying his hand upon the shoulder of his companion and looking earnestly into his eyes.
It was now Jones’s turn to be angry, yet it was evident that he made an effort to restrain his feelings, as he replied, “Well, what if I have? It’s one thing for you to advise me to become a teetotaller, and it’s quite another thing for me to agree to do it. I tell you again, as I’ve often told you before, Jim Welton, that I don’t mean to do it, and I’m not going to submit to be warned and reasoned with by you, as if you was my grandfather. I know that drink is the curse of my life, and I know that it will kill me, and that I am a fool for giving way to it, but it is the only thing that makes me able to endure this life; and as for the next, I don’t care for it, and I don’t believe in it.”
“But your not believing in it does not make it less certain,” replied Jim, quietly, but without any approach to solemnity in his tone or look, for he knew that his companion was not in a mood just then to stand such treatment. “You remember the story of the ostrich24 that was run down? Finding that it could not escape, it stuck its head in the sand and thought that nobody saw it. You may shut your eyes, Morley, but facts remain facts for all that.”
“Shutting my eyes is just what I am not doing,” returned Jones, flinging round and striding to the other side of the deck; then, turning quickly, he strode back, and added, with an oath, “have I not told you that I see myself, my position, and my prospects25, as clearly as you do, and that I intend to face them all, and take the consequences?”
“Have you not the sense to see, Morley Jones, that my remonstrances27 with you are at least disinterested28? What would you think if I were to say to you, ‘Go, drink your fill till death finds you at last wallowing on the ground like a beast, or worse than a beast; I leave you to your fate?’”
“I would think that Jim Welton had changed his nature,” replied Jones, whose anger disappeared as quickly as it came. “I have no objection to your storming at me, Jim. You may swear at me as much as you please, but, for any sake, spare me your reasonings and entreaties29, because they only rouse the evil spirit within me, without doing an atom of good; and don’t talk of leaving me. Besides, let me tell you, you are not so disinterested in this matter as you think. There is some one in Yarmouth who has something to do with your interest in me.”
The young man flushed again at the close of this speech, but not from a feeling of anger. He dropt his eyes before the earnest though unsteady gaze of his half-tipsy companion, who burst into a loud laugh as Jim attempted some stammering30 reply.
“Come,” he added, again assuming the stern aspect which was natural to him, but giving Jim a friendly slap on the shoulder, “don’t let us fall out, Jim you and I don’t want to part just now. Moreover, if we have a mind to get the benefit of the tide to-night, the sooner we up anchor the better, so we won’t waste any more time talking.”
Without waiting for a reply, Mr Jones went forward and called the crew. The anchor was weighed, the sails were set, and the sloop Nora—bending over before the breeze, as if doing homage31 in passing her friend the Gull-Light—put to sea, and directed her course for the ancient town and port of Yarmouth.
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1
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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2
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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3
sloop
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| n.单桅帆船 | |
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gull
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| n.鸥；受骗的人；v.欺诈 | |
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5
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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6
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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7
missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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saviour
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| n.拯救者，救星 | |
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10
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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12
seaman
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| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
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13
attenuated
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| v.（使）变细( attenuate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）变薄；（使）变小；减弱 | |
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14
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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15
blot
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| vt.弄脏（用吸墨纸）吸干；n.污点，污渍 | |
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16
blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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17
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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testily
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| adv. 易怒地, 暴躁地 | |
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20
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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21
gulls
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| n.鸥( gull的名词复数 )v.欺骗某人( gull的第三人称单数 ) | |
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22
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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23
cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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24
ostrich
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| n.鸵鸟 | |
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25
prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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26
dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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27
remonstrances
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| n.抱怨，抗议( remonstrance的名词复数 ) | |
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28
disinterested
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| adj.不关心的，不感兴趣的 | |
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29
entreaties
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| n.恳求，乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
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30
stammering
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的现在分词 ) | |
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31
homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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