“In a week or two after we sailed, we began to have a church in our ship. Two serious New England friends, finding how I was served at Portsmouth, came from thence to Plymouth, to bear me company. We had regular public prayer morning and evening, frequent communion, and days of humiliation and fasting. Being time of war, and sailing out with near a hundred and fifty ships, we had several convoys. Their taking leave of each other, at their several appointed places, was striking. We have often been alarmed; once with the sight of a Dutch fleet, which we took for an enemy; and again at the sight of Admiral Balchen, who rode by us, receiving the obeisance of the surrounding ships as though he were lord of the whole ocean. On another occasion, one of the ships struck her mainsail into our bowsprit. A little after we came up with the convoy, and our captain informed them of what had happened. The answer was, ‘This is your praying, and be damned to you!’ This shocked me more than the striking of the ships. At another time, we were alarmed with the sight of two ships, which our captain took to be enemies. The preparations for an engagement were formidable: guns were mounted, chains put round the masts, everything taken out of the great cabin, and hammocks placed about the sides of the ships. All, except myself, seemed ready for fire and smoke. My wife, after having dressed herself to prepare for all events, set about making cartridges, whilst I wanted to go into the holes of the ship, hearing that was the chaplain’s usual place. I went; but not liking my situation, I crept upon deck, and, for the first time in my life, beat up to arms, by a warm exhortation. The apprehended enemy approached; but, upon a nearer view, we found them to be two ships going under the same convoy as ourselves.”
Perhaps it will be thought that Whitefield and his fellow-voyagerswere more alarmed than hurt. But the narrative is not ended. When near the port of York, a small fishing smack approached them. Being told that the smack would be in port several hours before the ship, Whitefield and others went on board. It soon grew dark. The pilots missed the inlet, and the smack was tossed about all night. Whitefield’s hunger was such, that, to use his own expression, he “could have gnawed the very boards.” The fishermen had nothing eatable, except a few potatoes. Whitefield eagerly devoured them. About half an hour after his arrival at York, he “was put to bed, racked with a nervous colic, and convulsed from his waist down to his toes.” For four days, his life was in danger. Word was sent to Boston, that he was dying. A friend and a physician came, says he, “either to take care of me, or to attend my funeral; but, to their great surprise, they found me in the pulpit.” The truth is, as soon as Whitefield’s pain abated, the minister at York asked him to preach, and, of course, the temptation was too powerful to be resisted.
Not content with this imprudence, he crossed the ferry to Portsmouth, caught cold, had a return of illness,and was taken to the house of Mr. Sherburne.[109] Three physicians attended him, and Colonel Pepperell,[110] with many others, cameto condole with him. It so happened, however, that he was announced to preach at Portsmouth the day after his arrival. A substitute was provided: but, when the time for holding the service came, Whitefield suddenly exclaimed, “Doctor, my pains are suspended; by the help of God, I will go and preach, and then come home and die.” He wrote:—
“With some difficulty, I reached the pulpit. All looked quite surprised. I was as pale as death, and told them they must look upon me as a dying man; and that I came to bear my dying testimony to the truths I had formerly preached amongst them, and to the invisible realities of another world. I continued an hour in my discourse, and nature was almost exhausted; but, O what life, what power, spread all around! All seemed to be melted, and were in tears. Upon my coming home, I was laid on a bed, upon the ground, near the fire; and I heard them say, ‘He is gone!’ but God was pleased to order it otherwise. I gradually recovered; and, soon after, a poor negro woman came, sat down upon the ground, looked earnestly in my face, and said, ‘Master, you just go to heaven’s gate; but Jesus Christ said, Get you down, get you down; you must not come here yet.Go first, and call more poor negroes.’[111] You will find by this, I am still alive; and, if spared to be made instrumental in making any poor dead soul alive to God, I shall rejoice that the all-wise Redeemer has kept me out of heaven a little longer.”
Whitefield was now thoroughly disabled. Hence the following letter from his wife to a friend in England:—
“Portsmouth, New England, November 14, 1744.
“My dear and honoured master has ordered me to send you an account of our sorrowful, yet joyful, voyage.
“Our captain and others say, they never saw such a voyage; for all nature seemed to be turned upside down. We had nothing but storms, calms, and contrary winds. We frequently expected to go into eternity. Our own provision was spent; and Mr. Whitefield was so ill, that he could not take the ship’s provision. The winds were such that we expected to be driven off the coast, after we had seen land a week. We prayed to the Lord to send a boat to take us on shore; and, accordingly, a fishing schooner came, that had not been out for a long time before. Into it we went, hoping to get on shore in three or four hours: but the wind arose, and we were out all night.
“On the morrow, being the 26th of October, we landed, about nine in the morning, at York; where the Lord was pleased to visit my dear and honoured master with a nervous colic, which almost took his life. As soon as he was able to go about, he went out and preached twice a day, which was too much for him. We came from York here; and, in theway, he preached in the rain. On reaching Portsmouth, he preached at candle-light. This laid him up again, and the next day he was judged to be dangerously ill; but, when the time he had proposed to preach arrived, finding himself free from pain, he went out and preached. This had like to have cost him his life, for he became as cold as a clod. But the Lord was pleased to hear prayer from him, and he is now in a fair way.
“The Lord is doing great things here. The fields are indeed ready to the harvest, though there is some opposition. Mr. Whitefield has written several things, which will be sent as soon as printed here. We received your letter by Captain Adams, but Mr. Whitefield has not strength to answer it. He desires you will send the contents of this to all friends, and tell them they may expect letters the first opportunity.