Chapter Thirteen.
Run down in a Fog—Captain Bream acts surprisingly.
One day a fishing-smack was on the eve of quitting the Short Blue fleet for its little holiday of a week in port. It was the Sparrow, of which Jim Frost was master. A flag was flying to indicate its intention, and invite letters, etcetera, for home, if any of the crews should feel disposed to send them.
Several boats put off from their respective smacks in reply to the signal. One of these belonged to Singing Peter.
“Glad to see you, Peter,” said Jim Frost as the former leaped on the Sparrow’s deck.
“Same to you, lad. I wish you a pleasant spell ashore, and may the Master be with you,” returned Peter.
“The Master is sure to be with me,” replied Frost, “for has he not said, ‘I will never leave thee?’ Isn’t it a fine thing, Peter, to think that, whatever happens, the Lord is here to guard us from evil?”
“Ay, Jim, an’ to take us home when the time comes.”
“‘Which is far better,’” responded Jim.
“You’ll not get away to-night,” remarked Peter as he gazed out upon the sea. “It’s goin’ to fall calm.”