Here is a touching little letter from a torpedo boat. It is full of a simple trust in Christ, and pulsates with sweetest fellowship in Him.
"The winter has been rather a trying one for us in this tiny little craft, but really I never knew the companionship of a present Saviour so thoroughly as I have since hostilities began. It would seem almost as if I were His only care, and that He made me a special study. The wonder of it all is the more marked when I remember how poor has been my service to Him, compared with all the great benefits with which He daily loads me. In answering my prayers, in subduing the storms just when they were at their worst, in giving me a thorough victory over my usual weakness, and in a thousand other ways He makes me to lie down in green pastures, satisfied and at rest, contrary to all the seeming laws of warfare. These things I tell you, not from any conventional compulsion, but because they really are so, and because I should be thrice unworthy of His name if I forebore to tell out what great things He has done."
I will quote one or two sentences, this time with reference to Salvation Army work. A lance-corporal on board the Centurion writes:
"The chaps on board H.M.S. Centurion expect much from us Salvationists these youthful days. There are five of us on this ship, and we are not only engaged in cheering up each other, but we are distributing as much cheer as possible. Our ship is called the 'Hallelujah Ship.'"
Another writes from the same ship: "We have had some glorious soul-saving times."
A Salvation Army sailor has been given permission by the commander to conduct meetings on the upper deck of the Majestic. He tells us that he is the only Salvationist on board that ship, but that there are fifty Christian men there, and that others are giving themselves to Christ.
We hear of stokers coming up from the stoke-hole grimed with dirt, so anxious to attend the services that they do not stop to wash, lest they should miss the precious hour; of men praying in public who have never prayed before; of heartfelt addresses delivered by men who had no idea they could speak in public for their Master.
There is no need, however, to multiply instances. We may take it for granted that, in most ships, there is a little band of out-and-out Christian men eagerly longing for spiritual fellowship, and finding it in services to which they invite their fellows, and in which they have the joy of leading many of their comrades to Christ.
When a ship comes into port for a few hours there is the opportunity for the shore chaplain. He holds services on board, distributes "comforts," leaves behind him books and magazines, cheers the Christian workers, and in his quiet way works wonders. And when the men are permitted to come on shore what a welcome they receive at the various Sailors' Homes, and hearts are gladdened and resolutions strengthened, for the return to sea. The work at sea must be trying in the extreme—the constant watchfulness, the eager waiting for the enemy who never comes, the patrolling in the midst of winter tempests, enough to try the nerves of the strongest—but all the time the certainty that the old-time message will receive fresh illustration each day—"England expects that every man will do his duty."
The wooden walls have passed away, and steel walls have taken their place, but the men are brave as of old—only better far and nobler. No longer the scum of our seaport towns, pressed into the service against their will, but men who are there because they choose and dare, and who are willing any day to die for their native land.