"I was so weak and faint with my long immersion, that although this sight seemed to put new life in me, it was as much as I could do to clamber up to the top of the rock, and my hands and feet were much cut by the sharp shells and edges of rock. I scarcely noticed this, so great was my eagerness to make a signal to the ship I had seen, and to let those on board know that on this solitary reef there was a poor shipwrecked mariner. I had of course no means of making a fire, so I at once pulled off my shirt and waved it in the air, as the only way I had to make myself seen. All was in vain: the ship was too far off to notice my signal, and instead of coming nearer, as I had hoped, she tacked round on another course, and gradually disappeared in the distance.
"As the vessel slowly faded away from my sight, I sank down on the rock in despair. My situation was indeed desperate; the small rock on which I was, was only about fifty yards in circumference, and had nothing but a little moss and sea-weed growing on it. It is true there were a few shell-fish clinging to it, but I knew it would be impossible for me to support myself long on them, and besides, I had not a drop of water. I feared that I had only escaped death by drowning, to perish more miserably still by starvation. But even in this extremity, God's goodness was watching over me, although I had so long despised and forgotten Him. Suddenly a breeze sprang up from the westward, and I had the unspeakable joy of seeing the very ship which had passed in the morning heave in sight once more. Again I waved my shirt in the air, and made every signal I could think of, and, after a long time, what was my delight to see that I was observed. A boat was soon lowered, and half an hour afterwards I found myself on board the good ship Morning Star, homeward bound to England from India.
"The captain received me very kindly, and supplied me with some dry clothes, giving me at the same time a good meal, of which I stood much in need. The anxiety and exposure I had undergone, however, made me quite ill, and for three or four days I was under the doctor's care. On my recovery, I was obliged to work my passage home, and this employment became so distasteful to me, that I quite lost all my love of roving, and made up my mind, if once I got safely on shore, never again to set my foot on board ship."
CHAPTER VII.
He Arrives at Portsmouth—Resolves to Return to his Father—Arrives at Rotterdam—Sunday Morning—Writes to his Father—Is Penniless—The Curse of Disobedience—The Sermon—Is Starving—Obtains Temporary Belief from an Old Fellow-Student—Receives News of his Father's Death—His Sorrow and Remorse—Goes to Sea Again—Becomes Captain of a Ship.
"Wild is the whirlwind rolling
O'er Afric's sandy plain,
And wild the tempest howling
Along the billowed main;
But every danger felt before—
The raging deep, the whirlwind's roar.
Less dreadful struck me with dismay,
Than what I feel this fatal day."
—GOLDSMITH.
"After a favourable voyage we arrived at Portsmouth, to which port the ship was bound. I took leave of the captain to seek my fortune elsewhere. He wished me good luck, and paid me my wages for the homeward passage, which, however, did not last me long. Finding myself again penniless, and without any means of earning my living, I resolved to return to my father. Accordingly, I shipped as a common sailor on board a bark bound for Holland. We had beautiful weather, and after a very good passage I landed at Rotterdam. It was early on a Sunday morning, and as there was no business connected with the ship to prevent me, I thought I could not do less than go to church, and there give thanks to God for the great deliverance He had given me. This will show that the dangers through which I had passed, and the experience I had gained, had not been without some influence on the state of my soul. I had become more serious, my outward conduct, at least, was much improved; but, notwithstanding this, I had as yet experienced no real change of heart.
"Had I but fully realised the meaning of the sermon I heard that day, I should have felt that something more than this was necessary—a real inward purification, and a complete renunciation, even in thought, of the sins which had led me astray. One part of the discourse ran thus:—'God regards not only those things which a man does, not only his outward actions; His eye can also see our inmost thoughts, and He knows the true motive of every action of our lives. He regards not the outward appearance, but the inner reality; not the shell, but the kernel; that is, the inmost feeling and disposition of the heart; the shell is only the outward act. He sees the grain, and not the husk only; the treasure, not the box which contains it; the sword, and not the scabbard which hides it from our less penetrating view. What can it avail to have the scabbard ornamented with gold and jewels, if in the day of battle the sword is found edgeless, and covered with rust? Who would value a crop, however fine it might look as it stands in the field, if all the ears of corn were blighted and withered? Doubtless it is well that our outward actions should be of the highest and noblest character; this is indeed the sign of a well-regulated and religious life; but only truly are they such when they proceed from pure and noble motives, and are the expression of sound principles within.'
"The same day I wrote to my father again, and told him how I was situated. I assured him of my true repentance, and begged him to send me sufficient money to enable me to return to him. But while waiting to hear from him, I had only about two shillings in my pocket, and this was entirely gone by Wednesday. I knew his reply could not reach me for four days, and in the meantime I had not a penny to pay for board and lodging. I would not beg, though my circumstances were really worse than those of the poorest beggar in the streets, and I had not then that faith and trust in our heavenly Father's care, which I have since through His mercy been enabled to feel. I knew not as yet what it was to be a child of God. I determined, however, to bear my hunger till some relief arrived from my father. All day on Friday I had literally nothing to eat, and by Saturday night I felt weak and ill in the extreme; and still those words of my father were ringing in my ears, 'My curse shall be upon you.' I had long lived in abundance, and squandered away pounds upon pounds; now I was to know by experience what it is to be in want. In this pitiable condition, having no means of obtaining a lodging, I crept under a boat hauled up upon the beach for the night, and obtained a few hours' forgetfulness of my misery.
"When I awoke, I felt very wretched and low-spirited; but remembering that this was Sunday, I determined to go to church again and listen to another sermon, hoping to hear something there that might afford me some comfort. My hope was not in vain. The minister spoke most feelingly of the love of God, and of the care which He takes of all His creatures. His text, and the explanation he gave of it, seemed so exactly suited to my own case, that I almost thought the preacher must have known my circumstances, and chosen it expressly for my benefit. I was much affected, and on my return I wrote on a sheet of paper (which I have ever since carefully preserved), the following passages, which seemed peculiarly applicable to my own case. The text was from St. Matthew vi. 26, 'Behold the fowls of the air.'—'Yes, consider them attentively, for even they can teach us a lesson. How beautiful they are! how lively and active in all their motions! They of all created things seem specially adapted to give delight to the eye of man by their brilliant plumage and graceful evolutions, and to charm his ears by their melodious songs. Their homes are in the tops of the highest trees; they wing their course far up above our heads, and indeed seem to belong more to heaven than to earth.