And then he uttered his invitation, at which C. B. immediately sprang to his feet and poured out his very soul. What a prayer that was to be sure! It flooded the hearts of the hearers with a sense of the presence of the Divine in their midst, it established with a certainty that nothing could shake the connexion between the man and his heavenly father. When at last he ceased, and be sure that he did not pray long, there was a strange sensation among them all as if they expected something to happen. And then the sweet voice of Mary rose, never sweeter than now, following her husband. Never before had she raised her voice in prayer in public, but now the inspiration seized her and she could not refrain. Sweetly and gladly she praised the Lord, and the people who had felt strange tremors while C. B. was praying now owned to a peace that passed all their understanding stealing over them. She ceased and, wonder of wonders, the hard rugged old citizen, the keen fighter in the business arena, Old Man Stewart of the San Francisco Stock Exchange, lifted up his voice. I have not dared to give a sample of either C. B.’s or Mary’s out-pourings, but Mr. Stewart’s was so new and vigorous and eminently common-sense that I cannot refrain.
“Almighty God, in the name of Jesus Christ I thank you for all the mercy you’ve shown me and my daughter and her husband. You’ve saved us from a horrible death, you’ve brought us among good people, and you’ve made me see as I never did before the glory and majesty that is yours. If I knew, how I’d compete with the angels in praising you for what you’ve been and done to me lately, but I don’t, and I guess ’tain’t necessary either. So I’ll just say thank you, great God, for my dear son and his good influence, thank you for savin’ us, thank you for the lovingkindness of this good ship’s company and all, and all....” Then the rugged voice faltered, the tall form trembled, subsided into a seat, and he buried his face in his hands sobbing.
And C. B. sprang to his feet, singing with his soul in his voice, “All hail the power of Jesu’s Name.” They all sang it through, following him verse by verse, and then when the voices died away the old skipper solemnly pronounced the benediction, closing what he afterwards declared was the most memorable prayer meeting he had ever attended. And after the folks had dispersed in chastened mood to talk over the strange happenings of the evening, he called C. B. and his wife to him to ask of them certain things. He needed, as he explained, to be strengthened in his soul by the conversation of such natural Christians as he felt sure they were.
His communion with them was of mutual benefit and much pleasure, and C. B. felt happier than he had done for a long time, not that he was ever unhappy, but that being a man he had sadly missed the pleasure he had renewed this night. Then when the old skipper had bidden them good night C. B. and his wife and Mr. Stewart sat and talked over the amazing happenings of the past month, the strange ways in which it was pleasing the Lord to lead them. And gradually the talk came round, as it must do, to ways and means. They were now bound to Calcutta, and as Mr. Stewart had remitted the balance of his money to Sydney except for the trifle they had brought on board with them, all of which had been lost, they were practically beggared; still they could not talk with C. B. and feel that, for his cheery optimism was entirely proof against any such depressing thoughts. He would only quote the simile of the sparrows and smile contentedly.
Next day they swung round the island of St. Paul’s, had set the course northward for Calcutta. And as soon as the yards had been trimmed the captain called C. B. to him and said that there was just a chance of them meeting a ship bound South to Sydney or Melbourne which had been to Calcutta with horses, then a very lucrative trade and one that gave employment to a good many vessels. Then he said—
“If we do, I will signal to her and try to get them to take you on board, for much as I should like to take you on to Calcutta with me I know how hard it would be for you in your present penniless condition to land in a port so very far away from where you are bound to. And none of our passengers here are wealthy, they are all people who have their living to earn, or I know they would help. So we will pray that a vessel may be sighted into which you can be transhipped and thus the way made clear for you.”
C. B. thanked him and withdrew to the society of the dear ones, whom he found seated among a delighted group of the passengers who were listening spell-bound to some story Mr. Stewart was telling them. And as C. B. approached they hailed him gladly and made room for him in their midst, while Mr. Stewart said laconically—
“Now I guess I’ll turn the story over to him, for not only was he there and knows the whole thing, but he’s the boss story-teller there is, lays clean over any spinner of yarns I ever heard of, and what is best of all, you can bank your entire substance that he’ll never tell you anything that isn’t exactly so to an actual dot.”
C. B. laughingly inquired what this was they were getting up for him now, and learned that it was the story of poor Captain Taber’s breaking up, which, although Mr. Stewart and Mary had heard several times, they could not possibly tell as he could. And yet, having heard Captain Taber’s side of the yarn, Mary was able to put her oar in occasionally in order to prevent her husband’s modesty from entirely covering up his good part in the great business. For like a thoroughly good wife she loved to have her husband praised. His glory was hers, everything that was spoken of him truly and gratefully warmed her very heart, for he was part of herself and her typical hero.
So C. B. told the story and more also, and in such pleasant ways the time sped on until they had been a week on board and felt as if it had been but one day. There was no more respite for C. B.’s voice now, especially as the Majestic had a piano in her saloon, and C. B. now discovered to his boundless delight what he had never dreamed of before, that Mary could play beautifully: a born musician, she could accompany anybody with or without the music as soon as she got the air. And how they did sing! It seemed as if they could have thus poured out their very souls. Mr. Stewart made a mental note that whatever they decided to do without in their new simplicity at Norfolk Island when they got there, a piano or an American organ certainly would not be one of the things, since it was a source of such great delight and innocent pleasure.