Chapter Twenty Four.
The Wreck of the Evening Star.
About the time that Captain Bream was slowly recovering from the fever by which he had been stricken down, a disaster occurred out on the North Sea, in connection with the Short Blue, which told powerfully on some of the men of that fleet. This was nothing less than the wreck of the Evening Star.
The weather looked very unsettled the morning on which David Bright’s turn came about to quit the fleet and sail for port. He had flown the usual flag to intimate his readiness to convey letters, etcetera, on shore, and had also, with a new feeling of pride, run up his Bethel-Flag to show his true colours, as he said, and to intimate his willingness to join with Christian friends in a parting hymn and prayer.
Some had availed themselves of the opportunity, and, just before starting, the Evening Star ran close to the mission smack.
“Lower the boat, Billy,” said the skipper to his son as they sat in the cabin.
“Ay, ay, daddy.”
There was a kindliness now in the tone of David Bright’s voice when he spoke to Billy that drew out the heart of that urchin as it had never been drawn out before, save by his mother’s soft voice, and which produced a corresponding sweetness in the tones of the boy—for “love begets love.”