They made but little way; the waves pitched them so high and dropped them with such a heavy fall between their rolling troughs, that rowing became almost impossible, and the miserable old boat shipped quantities of water. At last, after a stronger pull than usual, Walter’s oar creaked, snapped, and gave way, flinging him on his back. The loosened twine with which it had been spliced was half rotten with age; it broke in several places, the oar blade fell off and floated away, and Walter was left holding in both hands a broken and futile stump.
“My God, it is all over with us!” was the wild cry that the sudden and awful misfortune wrung from his lips; while Charlie, shipping his now useless oar, clung round his brother’s neck and cried aloud. The three boys—one of them faint, exhausted, and speechless—were in an unsafe and oarless boat on the open tempestuous sea, weltering hopelessly at the cruel mercy of winds and waves; a current was sweeping them they knew not whither, and the wind, howling like a hurricane, was driving them farther and farther away from land.
“O Walter, I can’t die, I can’t die yet; and not out on this black sea, away from every one.”
“From every one but God, Charlie; and I am with you. Cheer up, little brother, God will not desert us.”
“O Walter, pray to God for you and me and Kenrick | pray to Him for life.”
“We will both pray, Charlie;” and folding his arms round him, for now that the rowing was over and there was nothing left to do, the little boy was frightened at the increasing gloom, Walter, calm even at that wild moment, with the calm of a clear conscience and a noble heart, poured forth his soul in words of supplication, while Charlie, his voice half stifled with tears, sobbed out a terrified response and echo to his prayer.
And after the prayer Walter’s heart was lightened and his spirit strengthened, till he felt ready in himself to meet anything and brave any fate; but his soul ached with pity for his little brother and for his friend. It was his duty to cheer them both and do what could be done. Kenrick had so far recovered as to move and say a few words, and the brothers were by his side in a moment.
“You have saved my life, Walter, when I had given it up; saved it, I hope, to some purpose this time,” he whispered, unconscious as yet of his position; and he dragged up his feet out of the pool of water in which they were lying at the bottom of the boat. But gradually the situation dawned upon him. “How is it you’re not rowing?” he asked; “are you tired? let me try, I think I could manage.”
“It would be of no use, Ken,” said Walter; “I mean that we can’t row,” and he pointed to the broken oar.
“Then you have saved me at the risk, perhaps at the cost, of your own lives. O you noble, noble Walter!” said Kenrick, the tears gushing from his eyes. “How awfully terrible this is! I seem to be snatched from death to death. Life and death are battling for me to-night; yes, eternal life and death too,” he whispered in Walter’s ear, catching him by the wrist. “All this danger is for me, Walter, and for my sin. I am like Jonah in the ship; I have been buffeting death away for hours, but he has been sent for me, he must do his mission. I see that I cannot escape, but, O God, I hope that you will escape, Walter. Your life and Charlie’s must not be spilt for mine.”