The clouds were all piled away in the southwest, their gold and crimson linings fluttering in the sunset; the tired waves rolled heavily in, scattering pearls and diamonds over the black, pitiless rocks; the moon crept quietly up in the background: but a sail was out of the question even had any one felt inclined. Robert and Bill were content to lie quietly on their couches; none of the others were apparently the worse for their exposure. Mother Griggs insisted on making a chowder for the entire party; Griggs himself regaled them with “yarns” about life in mid-ocean; but it was a very quiet evening, and the talk would continually drift back to the day’s adventures.
“Cur’us, ain’t it, now, how things work round?” said Griggs. “I’d a good mind as ever I had to eat to put in at Long Wharf where I left t’other party, and wait till the blow was over,—I could see it comin’; but Larkins an’ Sam wanted to git on towards home. Ef we hadn’t, ye see, there wouldn’t a been a man anywheres round. It’s what I call cur’us.”
Bill looked up eagerly at Mr. Vance.
“I see Mother Griggs’ garden survived the shower,” the latter remarked carelessly, going to the window; “I expected to find it washed away, lying on a slope so. Ah! there is a sort of breakwater to turn the freshet. How fortunate that should be there, in the nick of time!”
“Guess I think too much of my wife’s posies not to look out for the wash,” said Griggs, slapping his own knee approvingly. “I fixed that there thing more’n a month ago on purpose.”
“And don’t you suppose the God who rules the tempests loves His creatures enough to provide a way of escape from any or all dangers?”
“Well, now, you’ve come it over me slick,” said Griggs, taking out his pipe, and thoughtfully wiping his mouth.
“And not only from temporal dangers,” continued Farmer Vance, “but he has also provided a ‘way of escape’ from temptation, sin, and death.”
“I’ve allus reckoned there was a God,” said Griggs, slowly. “One can’t live close t’ the sea and disbelieve that there; an’ I’d like to believe He ’tends to things down here, but it never struck me jest so afore. Take an early start to-morrow, sir?”
“We must have a short sail first, to leave a pleasant taste of old ocean in our mouths,” rejoined Mr. Vance, smiling; “and now, boys, before we separate” (half of them were to sleep in the big covered wagon and the others on Mother Griggs’ kitchen floor), “let’s have our Psalm again. I don’t believe anything could express our feeling like that grand one hundred and seventh”; and in a voice slightly tremulous he began,—