Round and round went the winch, and in came the hawser.
Men were stationed over the bows at each side, armed with long poles, to help to thrust aside the weeds. And this aided the ship’s progress considerably.
Unfortunately there was not a breath of wind, else the work would have gone on more quickly.
As it was, there was little to complain of, and as soon as the hawser anchor was got up, it was once more shipped on board the weed-plough and carried off again.
And so the work went on slowly but surely till darkening.
Then the main anchor was once more let go, and the boat hauled up for the night. They had advanced two whole miles that afternoon, so no wonder their spirits rose.
. . . . . .
For the first time since the sad death of poor Johnnie Smart, Antonio brought out his guitar to-night to play and sing.
We cannot blame him. We never can forget the dear dead ones, although soundly do they sleep, their joys and sorrows past.
Then have we not the hope of a glorious resurrection? We can harbour no doubt on this score; for to Him who made and rules the mist of stars, and suns, and planets we see even by the naked eye every starry night around and above us, surely nothing is impossible. But more marvellous still, perhaps. Our Father governs the infinitely small as well as the infinitely great, and that by laws immutable and unchangeable. Not a midge that, though but one of millions who dance gaily as the setting sun glints over moor or marsh He does not know all about; even the microbes revealed to us by microscopic aid are His creatures, and fulfil His will, making life, or destroying the old to rebuild the new. Yes, it is a mysterious world! But what would it be without hope?