“Lobsters,” replied Captain Jeb. “Them’s Neb’s lobster pots bobbing up thar, and they’ve got a catch that will give us a dinner fit for a king.”
“It’s all to your taste,” said Brother Bart. “Barrin’ fast days, of which I say nothing, I wouldn’t give a good Irish stew for all the fish that ever swam the seas. But laddie is thrivin’ on the food here, I must say. There’s a red in his cheeks I haven’t seen for months; but what with the rocks and the seas and the Devil’s Jaw foreninst them, it will be the mercy of God if I get the four boys safe home.”
“You needn’t fear,” was the cheering assurance. “They are fine, strapping fellows, and a touch of sailor life won’t harm them; though it’s plain them two big chaps and little Polly’s boys are used to softer quarters. But for a long voyage I’d ship Mate Danny before any of them.”
“Ye would?” asked Brother Bart.
“Aye,” answered Captain Jeb, decisively. “Don’t fly no false colors, sticks to his job, ready to take hold of anything from a lobster pot to a sheet anchor,—honest grit straight through. Lord, what a ship captain he would make! But they don’t teach navigation at your school.”
“I don’t know,” answered Brother Bart. “I’m not book-learned, as I’ve told ye; but there’s little that isn’t taught at St. Andrew’s that Christian lads ought to know; to say nothing of God’s holy law, which is best of all; but of navigation I never hear tell. I’m thinking it can’t be much good.”
“No good!” repeated the Captain, staring. “Navigation no good! Lord! You’re off your reckoning thar sure, Padre. Do you know what navigation means? It means standing on your quarter-deck and making your ship take its way over three thousand miles of ocean straight as a bird flies to its nest; it means holding her in that ar way with the waves a-swelling mountain high and the wind a-bellowing in your rigging, and a rocky shore with all its teeth set to grind her in your lee; it means knowing how to look to the sun and the stars when they’re shining, and how to steer without, them when the night is too black to see. Where would you and I be now, Padre, if a navigator that no landlubbers could down had not struck out without map or chart to find this here America of ours hundreds of years ago?”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” answered Brother Bart. “But there seems to be sense and truth in what you say. It’s a pity you haven’t the light of Faith.”
“What would it do for me!” asked Captain Jeb, briefly.
“What would it do for you?” repeated Brother Bart. “Sure it’s in the black darkness you are, my man, or ye wouldn’t ask. It’s sailing on the sea of life ye are without sun or stars, and how ye are to find the way to heaven I don’t know. Do ye ever say a prayer, Jeroboam?”