If there was a shade of displeasure blended with the surprise that crossed the features of the divine at this extraordinary limitation of his duties, it entirely disappeared when he considered more closely the perfect expression of simplicity with which the dying master uttered his wishes. After a long and melancholy pause, which neither Griffith or his friend felt any inclination to interrupt, the chaplain replied:
“It is not the province of man to determine on the decrees of the merciful dispensations of the Deity; and nothing that I can do, Mr. Boltrope, will have any weight in making up the mighty and irrevocable decree. What I said to you last night, in our conversation on this very subject, must still be fresh in your memory, and there is no good reason why I should hold a different language to you now.”
“I can't say that I logg'd all that passed,” returned the master; “and that which I do recollect fell chiefly from myself, for the plain reason that a man remembers his own better than his neighbor's ideas. And this puts me in mind, Mr. Griffith, to tell you that one of the forty-two's from the three-decker traveled across the forecastle, and cut the best bower within a fathom of the clinch, as handily as an old woman would clip her rotten yarn with a pair of tailor's shears! If you will be so good as to order one of my mates to shift the cable end-for-end, and make a new bend of it, I'll do as much for you another time.”
“Mention it not,” said Griffith; “rest assured that everything shall be done for the security of the ship in your department-I will superintend the whole duty in person; and I would have you release your mind from all anxiety on the subject, to attend to your more important interests elsewhere.”
“Why,” returned Boltrope, with a little show of pertinacity, “I have an opinion that the cleaner a man takes his hands into the other world, of the matters of duty in this the better he will be fitted to handle anything new.—Now, the parson, here, undertook to lay down the doctrine last night that it was no matter how well or how ill a man behaved himself, so that he squared his conscience by the lifts and braces of faith; which I take to be a doctrine that is not to be preached on shipboard; for it would play the devil with the best ship's company that was ever mustered.”
“Oh! no—no—dear Mr. Boltrope, you mistook me and my doctrine altogether!” exclaimed the chaplain; “at least you mistook——”
“Perhaps, sir,” interrupted Griffith, gently, “our honest friend will not be more fortunate now. Is there nothing earthly that hangs upon your mind, Boltrope? no wish to be remembered to any one, nor any bequest to make of your property?”
“He has a mother, I know,” said Barnstable in a low voice, “he often spoke of her to me in the night-watches, I think she must still be living.”
The master, who distinctly heard his young shipmates continued for more than a minute rolling the tobacco, which he still retained, from one side of his mouth to the other, with an industry that denoted singular agitation for the man; and raising one of his broad hands, with the other he picked the worn skin from fingers which were already losing their brownish yellow hue in the fading color of death, before he answered:
“Why, yes, the old woman still keeps her grip upon life, which is more than can be said of her son David. The old man was lost the time the Susan and Dorothy was wrecked on the back of Cape Cod; you remember it, Mr. Barnstable? you were then a lad, sailing on whaling voyages from the island: well, ever since that gale, I've endeavored to make smooth water for the old woman myself, though she has had but a rough passage of it, at the best; the voyage of life, with her, having been pretty much crossed by rugged weather and short stores.”