C. B. standing by the boat in which was all that he held dear felt her heel and saw the sea coming. He clutched at the boat’s gunwale just as the wave overwhelmed the ship, and was swept with her out and away into the tormented sea, clinging with all his great strength to her as she went. Presently he found the strain upon his arms ease, realized that the boat was still afloat, and climbed into her. She was half full of water, but his dear ones were still safe cowering in the stern sheets. He uttered a fervent, “Thank God!” and feeling all his vigour return got an oar out and tried to get the boat’s head round before the sea so that she would ride easier. But it was an impossible task for one man, however strong and skilful, and he realized it directly, resigning himself to the mercy of God. But full of hope even then.
He had just settled down by the side of his wife and grasped her clammy hand when the whole of the wild heavens were lit up by a tremendous glare, in which every detail of the ship close at hand was manifest, an awful though a glorious sight. For the space of a couple of minutes the mighty mass of flames soared heavenwards, lighting up the whole expanse and revealing the heaving waste of ocean all dotted with wreckage. But it showed also that the sea was smoothened greatly, as was inevitable from the enormous quantity of oil which had been liberated. C. B. did not think of the cause of this relief, but he seized the opportunity to get the mast stepped and the jib set by means of which he could keep the boat under control. And within the next five minutes before the glare died down and the last sign of the ship disappeared, three men were rescued from the watery wild around, the mate, the cook, and one seaman. Then the light went out and darkness most profound swallowed them up.
Throughout that terrible night the boat, managed with consummate skill by C. B., rode gallantly and easily over the tremendous billows. But the strain of watching was intense, and when day dawned at last on the tormented breadths of ocean the effect of it upon C. B. was painfully manifest. Nestling side by side at his feet were his wife and her father, sheltered as well as was possible, and marvellous to state, sleeping soundly. The rescued men, however, did not appear to have been able to sleep, they knew the danger too well, and besides, they were in a miserable plight with wet and cold. Bad as they were, however, Mr. Haynes, looking at C. B. and noting the effect that his ceaseless watch had had upon him, at once offered to relieve him at the helm so that he could rest a little if sleep was impossible. Very gratefully C. B. accepted his offer, handed the tiller to him, and slipping down by the side of his wife had only just time to murmur a few words of thanks when he fell fast asleep.
When he awoke the weather had become finer, and Haynes had managed to get the mainsail set with a couple of reefs in it, so that something of a course to the northward could be made. There were still heavy masses of clouds marching swiftly up from the west, and occasionally obscuring the pale blue that looked so hopeful, and the waves were still huge and threatening, but the boat was now making good progress without shipping any water to speak of, and the sun diffused some warmth through their chilled frames. So that as C. B. looked around he felt a great wave of thankfulness surge over him, and kneeling he invited all hands to join with him in praising God for their wonderful deliverance. Very solemnly and heartily they all agreed, and some of them for the first time in their lives honestly and unreservedly recognized God as the Lord by praising him for that their lives had been spared.
Then a meal was taken, the provisions having been examined and apportioned with the utmost care, and Mary looking up into her husband’s face with eyes of deepest affection, said—
“Only to think, Christmas, that so short a time ago we were your patrons, showing off the power of wealth, I’m afraid, and now we are like little children in your hands.” And Mr. Stewart chimed in laconically—
“I guess it’s good for a man to get down to the beginning of things occasionally. I ain’t a bit comfortable, nor I wouldn’t be here if I could help it, but somehow I feel glad to think I am here and getting along almost as well as the next man.”
And C. B., refreshed in body as well as exalted in mind, raised his voice in the grand strains of “Oh God of Bethel by whose hand,” to the manifest wonder of all his companions, but also to their exceeding comfort.