“Easy now, Minister!” interrupted Captain January. “I'm an old man, though I never knowed it till this day. Easy with this part!”
“I am bound to say,” continued the minister, laying his hand kindly on his companion's arm, “that I think there is little doubt of Star's being Mrs. Morton's niece.”
“And what if she be?” exclaimed the old sailor, turning with a sudden violence which made the gentle minister start back in alarm. “What if she be? what have the lady done for her niece? Did she take her out o' the sea, as raged like all the devils let loose, and death itself a-hangin' round and fairly howlin' for that child? did she stand on that rock, blind and deef and e'ena'most mazed with the beatin' and roarin' and onearthly screechin' all round, and take that child from its dead mother's breast, and vow to the Lord, as helped in savin' it, to do as should be done by it? Has she prayed, and worked, and sweat, and laid awake nights, for fear that child's fingers should ache, this ten years past? Has she—” the old man's voice, which had been ringing out like a trumpet, broke off suddenly. The angry fire died out of his blue eyes, and he bowed his head humbly. “I ask yer pardon, Minister!” he said, quietly, after a pause. “I humbly ask yer pardon. I had forgotten the Lord, ye see, for all I was talkin' about Him so glib. I was takin' my view, and forgettin' that the Lord had His. He takes things by and large, and nat'rally He takes 'em larger than mortal man kin do. Amen! so be it!” He took off his battered hat, and stood motionless for a few moments, with bent head: nor was his the only silent prayer that went up from the little gray beach to the gray heaven above.
“Well, Minister,” he said, presently, in a calm and even cheerful voice, “and so that bein' all clear to your mind, the lady have sent you to take my—to take her niece—the little lady (and a lady she were from her cradle) back to her. Is that the way it stands?”
“Oh, no! no indeed!” cried the kind old minister. “Mrs. Morton would do nothing so cruel as that, Captain January. She is very kind-hearted, and fully appreciates all that you have done for the little girl. But she naturally wants to see the child, and to do whatever is for her best advantage.”
“For the child's advantage. That's it!” repeated Captain January. “That's somethin' to hold on by. Go on, Minister!”
“So she begged me to come over alone,” continued the minister, “to—to prepare your mind, and give you time to think the matter well over. And she and Mr. Morton were to follow in the course of an hour, in Robert Peet's boat. He is a very singular fellow, that Peet!” added the good man, shaking his head. “Do you think he is quite in his right mind? He has taken the most inveterate dislike to Mr. and Mrs. Morton, and positively refuses to speak to either of them. I could hardly prevail upon him to bring them over here, and yet he fell into a strange fury when I spoke of getting some one else to bring them. He—he is quite safe, I suppose?”
“Wal, yes!” replied Captain January, with a half smile. “Bob's safe, if anyone is. Old Bob! so he doosn't like them, eh?”
At that moment his eye caught something, and he said, in an altered voice, “Here's Bob's boat coming now, Minister, and the lady and gentleman in her.”
“They must have come much more rapidly than I did,” said the minister, “and yet my boy rows well enough. Compose yourself, January! this is a heavy blow for you, my good friend. Compose yourself! Things are strangely ordered in this world. 'We see through a glass darkly'!”