Jack. Well, Tom, I congratulate you, for although I make no pretensions to religion myself, I sincerely respect it in others—that is, where it is genuine, as I am sure it is in your case; but I can’t stand playing soldier in religion, Tom, as I have seen it done by some hypocrites.
Tom. So much the worse for them, Jack. But, my dear fellow, I advise you, as a friend, not to put off seeking religion another day. This day may be your last, Jack. Don’t you remember the story of the rich man in Scripture, who said, “Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many years; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry?” But God said unto him, “Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee.” O Jack, don’t put off this most important of all works to a dying bed, for you may not have one; you may be called into eternity at a moment’s warning. You surely have not forgotten the awful death of swearing Joe Swifter, who was shaken off the yard into the boiling sea in that terrible night off the Canaries, when we were all aloft close reefing the Alert’s maintopsail? And, Jack, can you ever forget his cry of agony as we shot ahead in the gale, forced to leave him to perish? I am sure it will haunt me to my dying hour. Poor Joe, thou wert called with all thy sins upon thy head into the presence of an offended God.
Jack. Poor Joe. I remember it as if it had occurred but yesterday, Tom. It was an awful warning; and I don’t think there were three oaths sworn on board the Alert for three days after. To tell the truth, Tom, I have had some queer feelings about death and the judgment, lately; and although I tried hard to drown them in grog, they would come up in spite of me. But I’ll tell you more about it when we reach your lodgings, where we will be quiet and uninterrupted. You got safely back, I hope?
Tom. Yes, Jack, thanks to a kind Providence. I made two more voyages with the same captain; and I expect to go with him next trip as mate. I have been able to send my sister a snug little sum to keep her comfortable; and I have something handsome in the seamen’s savings bank, as I told you before; together with a clear head and a happy heart; trusting in my God, and loving all who bear his image. Now, Jack, what do you think of temperance?
Jack. Think of it? Why, Tom, I always thought well of it, though I can’t say that I have latterly practised it much; but I like it now better than ever. I have ruminated a good deal upon its evils, both at sea and ashore. Don’t you think, Tom, that rum is at the bottom of nine out of ten of the floggings that take place in the navy?
Tom. Yes, indeed, Jack, I am sure of it. And I think, moreover, that if it were discarded entirely from the government and merchant service, insubordination and floggings would be of rare occurrence in the one, and trouble and mutiny in the other. And there would be fewer vessels and lives lost in the merchant-service, in the bargain.
Jack. I have often thought, Tom, what a degrading thing that flogging is. It sinks a man below the level of a brute, both in his own and the eyes of others. It seems to me that if I had ever been triced up at the gratings, and had a stroke of the cat, it would have completely crushed my spirit, if it had not broken my heart outright.
Tom. I think it would have had the same effect on me too, Jack. I am sure I could not have stood it.
Jack. And, Tom, to show more of the bad effects of liquor, I remember that I was once in Port-au-Prince, in the island of St. Domingo, during the sickly season, when a fearful mortality raged among the shipping, so that every vessel lost some of her men; most of them bringing on the yellow-fever by their intemperance. There were three ships that were left without a man; all were swept off from the captain to the cook.
Tom. Awful, Jack, awful. I have also seen many a stout and noble-hearted tar, in those yellow-fever countries, stowed away under a foot of earth for the landcrabs to feed upon, just from drinking rum, or the strong brandy of the country. I’ll tell you what it is, Jack, when the coppers are scalded by rum, physic can’t get a hold—it is just like casting anchor on a rocky bottom—and so the grip of the grim monster Death is sure. The only safe man there, as well as everywhere else, indeed, is the teetotaler.