Other sounds there were, however, which fell pleasantly on the ears of the two listeners.
“Psalm-singers,” said Billy.
“They might be worse,” replied Ned. “What smack does it come from, think ’ee?”
“The Boy Jim, or the Cephas—not sure which, for I can’t make out the voices. It might be from the Sparrow, but that’s it close to us, and there could be no mistake about Jim Frost’s voice if he was to strike up.”
“What! has Jim Frost hoisted the Bethel-flag?”
“Ay, didn’t you see it flyin’ last Sunday for the first time?”
“No, I didn’t,” returned Ned, “but I’m glad to hear it, for, though I’m not one o’ that set myself. I do like to see a man not ashamed to show his colours.”
The flag to which they referred is supplied at half cost to the fleet by the Mission to Deep-Sea Fishermen—and is hoisted every Sabbath-day by those skippers in the fleet who, having made up their minds boldly to accept all the consequences of the step, have come out decidedly on the Lord’s side.
While the two shipmates were conversing thus in low tones, enjoying the fresh air and the calm influences around them, the notes of an accordion came over the water in tones that were sweetened and mellowed by distance.
“Ha! that’s Jim Frost now,” said Billy, in subdued excitement, while pleasure glittered in his eyes. “Oh! Ned, I does like music. It makes my heart fit to bu’st sometimes, it does. An’ Jim plays that—that what’s ’is name—so beautiful!”