Even Eric was not free from this at first; but as day after day passed, and they learned to know this Methodist better, all were willing to own that she was a good woman, while many thought of her as an angel of God, as indeed she was; for by her life, as well as by her words, she taught that God is love.
From the time she asked Eric to help her give out the bread among the convicts, he had been her helper in everything she had done or tried to do for the benefit of the rest. At first, he did not like the notion of her being a Methodist; but he got over this when he found that she said very little about Mr. Wesley, but spoke as his mother used to do, and was just as eager to help these men and women as he used to be with his horses, or the creatures in the forest whenever that was possible.
He had never thought men and women could be as interesting as the horses were to him, but under Sister Martin, he was learning to help these now, and to love the work too.
It did not matter to him how menial, how difficult, or how tedious the task might be, if Sister Martin wanted it done, Eric was willing to do it. One of the men in the company was a shoemaker, and for his kindness to him while he was ill, he was willing to teach Eric something of his trade, but he would show no one else, and so Eric had to learn how to patch and cobble at the old shoes, that he might show one or two others who were anxious to learn.
It was a busy life he lived here, for every minute of it was employed from early morning until he went to bed at night, and but for the dread he felt at the idea of being a slave, it would have been happier than any time he had spent since his mother's death.
But like a black cloud obscuring the distant horizon, there was ever present to his mind the thought, "I shall soon be a slave, be the property of some man who may have the right to bid me do things I may not think it right to do." And when this thought took possession of him, he would sometimes look over the side of the vessel, and wish that by some accident he might fall overboard and be drowned. If only this could happen, there would be an end of all his trouble and perplexity, and he would soon see his beloved mother once more.
But braver thoughts generally succeeded these despairing moods; for one day he told his friend what he had been thinking of when she found him gazing into the water.
"But how would you meet God, my boy?" asked Sister Martin, looking into his troubled, truthful eyes. "If you gently slipped in and sank like a stone before your work was done, could you expect your Father in heaven to meet you with the welcoming words, 'Well done, good and faithful servant?' Would you be a faithful servant, if you wilfully threw away the life God has given to be used in His service? What that service may be you cannot tell, but you can be patient and wait for the unfolding of God's providence towards you. That is your duty, my boy; we are each asked to live a day at a time the life of little children.
"When your mother lived, you knew you could depend upon her to do the best thing possible for you, and so in like manner should you depend upon God now to arrange your life day by day. The way may be rough; it is a rough and thorny path you have been called to tread, the night for you has been long and dark; but there is an old saying, that it is darkest just before the dawn, and so I think you may fairly hope your dawn is at hand, though we may not see it yet."
In this way did the good woman encourage the lad to hope and trust in the Friend who though invisible, is none the less mighty to help, mighty to save; and so Eric resisted more and more these depressing thoughts, which he found by experience always unfitted him for the duty that lay nearest to him, whatever it might be.