“A–are—are you the skipper o’ this here wessel!” he stammered.
“Ay, through God’s goodness I am.”
“A mission wessel!” said Fox, his amazement not a whit abated as he looked round.
“Just so, a Gospel ship,” answered Fred, giving the skipper another shake of the hand.
“You didn’t mistake it for a coper, did ’ee?” asked David Duffy, who was one of the visitors.
The laugh which followed this question drowned Groggy Fox’s reply.
“And you’ll be glad to hear,” said Fred, still addressing Fox, “that the Sunbeam is a new mission ship, and has been appointed to do service for God in this fleet and no other; so you’ll always be able to have books and baccy, mitts, helmets, comforters, medicines, and, best of all, Bibles and advice for body and soul, free gratis when you want ’em.”
“But where’s the doctor to give out the medicines,” asked Fox, who began to moderate his gaze as he recovered self-possession.
“Well, mate,” answered Fred, with a bashful air, “I am doctor as well as skipper. Indeed, I’m parson too—a sort of Jack-of-all-trades! I’m not full fledged of course, but on the principle, I fancy, that ‘half a loaf is better than no bread,’ I’ve been sent here after goin’ through a short course o’ trainin’ in surgery—also in divinity; something like city missionaries and Scripture-readers; not that trainin’, much or little, would fit any man for the great work unless he had the love of the Master in his heart. But I trust I have that.”
“You have, Fred, thank God!” said the Admiral of the fleet.