“Have you then more faith than the apostle?”
“I have, thanks be to Jehovah, the true faith,” cried the boatswain, raising his eyes and hands to heaven.
“Then walk on shore,” said the captain of the forecastle, looking him steadfastly in the face.
Stimulated by the request, which appeared to put his courage as a man, and his faith as a Christian, to the test, and, at the moment, fanatic even to insanity, the boatswain rose, and casting off the ropes which he had wound round his body, was about to comply with Robinson’s request.
A few moments more, and the raging sea would have received him, had not our hero, in conjunction with the captain of the forecastle, held him down with all his power. “We doubt not your faith, Mr Hardsett,” said Seymour, “but the time of miracles is past. It would be self-murder. He who raised the storm, will, in his own good time, save us, if he thinks fit.”
Price, who had listened to the conversation, and had watched the motions of the boatswain, who was casting off the lashings which had secured him, had, unperceived, done the same, and now jumped upon his legs, and collared the astonished boatswain, roaring out—
“Zounds, show me what thou’lt do!
Woul’t weep? woul’t fight? woul’t fast? woul’t tear thyself?”
“Why, he’s mad!” exclaimed the terrified boatswain, who was not far off the point himself.
“Mad!” resumed Price.
“Not a soul
But felt a fever of the mad, and play’d
Some tricks of desperation.
“The king’s son, Ferdinand,
With hair upstarting (then like reeds, not hair),
Was the first man that leaped; cried, Hell is empty,
And all the devils are here!”