This was a strange episode in the life of the young evangelist. Like his Divine Redeemer, he "increased in favour with God and man." His heart was full of gratitude. In a letter, dated Gibraltar, February 25, 1738," he writes:—
"God has been with us of a truth. He has led us through the sea, as through a wilderness, and brought us to a haven, where I am honoured with many honours. About six o'clock this morning, I went to the church, where was assembled a number of decent soldiers, praying, and singing psalms to Christ as God. They meet constantly three times a day, and I intend henceforward to meet with them. They pray without ceasing, have overcome the world, hate sin, love their enemies and one another. Oh, who would not travel to see how the Spirit of God is moving poor sinners' souls up and down the world! God, I find, has a people everywhere; Christ has a flock, though but a little one, in all places. God be praised that we are of this flock, and that it will be our Father's good pleasure to give us the kingdom."
On the 7th of March, the Whitaker set sail for Savannah, and, on Sunday, the 7th of May, cast anchor near Tybee Island. During this two months' voyage, the duties of Whitefield's chaplaincy were performed with his usual regularity and zeal. He finished his exposition of the Creed, and then began to expound the Decalogue. Habersham taught the children; and several of the soldiers began learning to read and write. Occasionally, Whitefield visited the Lightfoot and the Amy, two accompanying ships, dined with the officers, dispersed Bibles, Testaments, and Soldiers' Monitors among the men, and, on one occasion, threw overboard their cards. On board the Amy, he preached to above two hundred and twenty hearers; and says, "I married a couple, who did not behave so well as I could wish. The bridegroom laughed several times in the midst, of the solemnity, upon which I shut up my Prayer-book. He began to weep, and I then proceeded, and gave him and the bride a Bible, as the best present I could make them."[125]
On board both the Whitaker and Lightfoot, he preached his sermon against Drunkenness, which was published, as soon as he returned to England, and from which the following extracts are taken. The text was Ephesians v. 6; and the divisions were,—Drunkenness is a heinous sin, because, 1. It is an abuse of God's creatures. 2. By it a man sinneth against his own body. 3. It robs a man of his reason. 4. It is an inlet to, and a forerunner of, many other sins. 5. It separates the Holy Spirit from us. 6. It absolutely unfits a man for the enjoyment of God in heaven, and exposes him to His eternal wrath.
The reader may easily imagine that, under such divisions, the bold and ardent preacher would find employment for strong and scathing language.
"Flee drunkenness!" he cried, "flee drunkenness, since he that committeth that crime, sinneth against his own body. Who hath pains in the head? Who hath rottenness in the bones? Who hath redness of eyes? He that tarries long at the wine; he that rises early to seek new wine. How many walking skeletons have you seen, whose bodies were once exceeding fair to look upon; but, by this sin of drinking, how has their beauty departed from them, as though God intended to set them up, as He did Lot's wife, for monuments of His justice?
"Think ye, O ye drunkards, that you shall be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light? No: as by drunkenness you have made your hearts cages of unclean birds, with unclean spirits must you dwell. A burning Tophet, kindled by God's wrath, is prepared for your reception, where you must suffer the vengeance of an eternal fire, and in vain cry out for a drop of water to cool your tongues. Indeed, you shall drink, but it shall be the cup of God's fury. I call heaven and earth to witness against you this day, that, as surely as the Lord rained fire and brimstone upon Sodom, so surely will He cast you into a lake of fire and brimstone, when He shall come to take vengeance on them that know not God, and have not obeyed the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ. Behold, I have told you before. Remember you were this day informed what the end of drunkenness would be. And I summon you, in the name of that God whom I serve, to meet me at the judgment-seat of Christ, that you may acquit both my Master and me; and confess, with your own mouths, that your damnation was of yourselves, and that we were freed from the blood of you all."
This was hard hitting, and yet Whitefield seemed to make no enemies, but, by his fidelity, increased the number of his friends. "Colonel Cochrane was extremely civil; and such was the change upon Captain Mackay, that he desired Whitefield not to give himself the trouble of expounding and praying in the cabin and between decks; for he would order a drum to be beat morning and evening, and himself would attend with the soldiers on deck." Henceforward, Whitefield preached with a captain on each side of him, and soldiers round about him; the two other ships' companies often drawing near, and joining in the worship of the great Creator. Once, after the public sermon, Captain Mackay desired the soldiers to stop, whilst he informed them that, to his great shame, he had been a notorious swearer, but, by the instrumentality of that gentleman, pointing to Whitefield, he had abandoned the sin, and wished them all to copy his example.[126] After the sermon on drunkenness, also, the captain seconded the effort of the chaplain, and "exhorted the men to give good heed to the things that had been spoken." A fever breaking out, Whitefield, "for many days and nights, visited between twenty and thirty sick persons, crawling between decks upon his knees, administering medicines and cordials," and giving suitable advice. The result of the whole was a marvellous reformation. One of the sailors, who had been a notorious scoffer, sent for Whitefield in bitter agony, and loudly lamented his past wickedness. The cadet, who had received a university education, and who, the first Sunday after sailing from the Thames, amused himself and others by playing on the hautboy, told Whitefield the history of his life, and expressed his intention to devote himself to the service of the Church.[127] Concerning the soldiers, Whitefield says: "I have no reason to complain of them, for they come very regularly twice a day to prayer, and an oath seems to be a strange thing amongst most of them. Many marks of a sound conversion appear in several aboard, and we live in perfect harmony and peace, loving and beloved of one another. In the great cabin, we talk of little else but God and Christ."
The voyage was long, and not without its incidents, in some of which Whitefield himself was prominent. For instance, the captain's negro servant died, was wrapped in a hammock, and thrown into the sea; but, because the poor creature was not baptized, Whitefield was Churchman enough to say, "I could not read the office over him." On the other hand, a baptized soldier "killed himself by drinking," and Whitefield writes: "I buried him in time of public prayers, chose proper lessons, and gave the soldiers a suitable exhortation." A little boy, four years old, refused to repeat the Lord's Prayer. The young clergyman forced him upon his knees, and gave him "several blows." The urchin then went through the Prayer, and Whitefield rewarded him with figs. Another boy behaved improperly at public worship. Captain Mackay handed over the culprit to the chaplain to be punished. Whitefield ordered him to be tied with cords, and to be kept tied till he learned, and could repeat, the fifty-first Psalm from memory. The lad performed his penance, repeated the Psalm with great solemnity, "in the midst of the congregation," and was then released from his ignominious bonds.
Towards the end of the voyage, Whitefield was seized with the fever, from which all in the ship, except three or four, had suffered. Habersham and another friend sat up with him every night. He was bled thrice, was blistered, and had an emetic. Gradually recovering from this serious illness, he reached Savannah on Sunday evening, May 7th, more than four months after he had parted with his friends in London.
On the day before his arrival, he wrote:—