“‘What d’ee mean?’ says I.
“‘I mean,’ says he, ‘that I’ve just lost my wessel on the Gunfleet sands, but, thank God, I haven’t lost my life, nor none o’ my men, though it was a close shave.’
“‘How did it happen, Abel?’ says I.
“Says he, ‘It happened pretty much in the usual way. A gale, wi’ sleet that thick we could hardly see the end o’ the jib-boom. The moment we struck I know’d it was all over wi’ the old wessel, but I didn’t see my way to go under without a struggle, so we made a desp’rit attemp’ to git out the boats, but a sea saved us the trouble, for it swept ’em all away before we got at ’em, as if they’d bin on’y chips o’ wood. Then, as if to mock us, another sea pitched us higher on the sands, so as the decks wasn’t washed by every wave quite so bad, but we knew that wouldn’t last for the tide was makin’ fast, so I calls the crew together, an’ says I, “Now, lads, I’ve often prayed with you an’ for you. In a few minutes we’ll have to take to the riggin’, an’ you know what the end o’ that’s likely to be. Before doin’ so, I’ll pray again, for nothin’ is impossible to the Lord, an’ it may be His will to spare us yet a while.” Well, I prayed. Then we took to the riggin’ to wait for death—or rescue. An’ sure enough, after we had bin six hours there, an’ was all but frozen, a fishin’-smack came past and took us off.’”
“Now, mates,” said Joe Davidson, after they had chatted thus in subdued tones for some time, “it do seem to me that as most of us are of one mind here, and we are, so to speak, of one fisher-family, it might do Mrs Bright good if we was to have a bit of the Word together, and a prayer or two.”
As every one agreed to this either heartily or by silence, a Bible was produced, and Joe,—being mate of the late Evening Star, and therefore a sort of natural head of the family—read the portion where God promises to be a Husband to the widow, and a Father to the fatherless.
Then they all knelt while he prayed in simple language for comfort and a blessing to the mourning household. He was followed with a very few but intensely earnest words by Luke. Even John Gunter put up an unpremeditated prayer in the words, “God help us!” uttered in a choking voice, and the old fisherman followed them all with a deep “Amen.”
After that they shook hands tenderly with the widow and Billy, and went out silently from the house of mourning.