“Shipmates,” he said, as he observed the look of astonishment with which some of those who stood around regarded him. “Had you gone through the dangers we have encountered, and been preserved from them to reach the ship again, you would feel that it was not your own arm, or your own strength had saved you, but He, who not only takes care of the bodies of us sinful and ungrateful creatures, but is willing and ready to save our immortal souls alive.”

Archy remained for some days in a state of unconsciousness, but under the care of Dr Sinclair he gradually recovered. The captain treated him with the greatest kindness.

“I have heard all about you, Archy,” he said, “and I don’t speak to you now to blame you for your conduct in leaving home. I’ll leave it to your own conscience to do so. God, in His mercy, has led you through severe trials and hardships, and has mercifully preserved your life, that you may, I trust, henceforth devote it to His service, and not, as heretofore, to that of Satan. Ever remember, Archy, that we ‘cannot serve two masters’—we must be either Christ’s loving subjects, and obey His laws, or we must be Satan’s slaves, and do his will—he is a hard, and oftentimes a very cunning task-master. Most of his slaves, while following their own devices and inclinations, and, as they may fancy, doing no great harm, are in reality carrying out his objects. He blinds their eyes, and they are thus easily led captive by his emissaries, just as you were led away, as I have since discovered, by that unhappy man, Max Inkster. God’s ways are inscrutable. He has been allowed to perish, I fear, in his sins, while your life has been preserved. Then, again I say, my boy, ‘Pray without ceasing,’ that God’s Holy Spirit may strengthen and support you to walk in His ways, and to obey His holy laws.”

Archy assured the captain that such was his wish, and that, feeling his own weakness, he would ever seek for strength from above.

“You will need it now, and throughout life,” said Captain Irvine, solemnly. “To God alone can we look for sure help, in time of need, in all our temporal difficulties, much more then in our spiritual trials. I would that all on board the ship knew this—it would sustain them in the many dangers and the hardships they must be called on to endure. We have now been well nigh a month shut up in the ice, and must expect to remain nearly eight months longer. We had provisions only at the usual rate of consumption for three months, and therefore from the day the ship was frozen up, I was compelled to place the crew on short allowance. Our fuel, too, will be exhausted long before the ice breaks up. When that time comes, should the weather prove tempestuous, the ship will be exposed to fearful danger from the huge masses of ice tossed about by the waves, or from being driven against the icebergs which may appear in her course. With the crew weakened as ours will of necessity be by that time, how little able shall we be of ourselves to contend against the perils which will surround us. I tell you this, Archy, that you may be induced more completely to trust to the protection of that God who can alone enable us to escape them.”

Archy at length recovered his strength. Some time had passed before he discovered that the captain, and Andrew, and one or two other persons, had given up to him a portion of their own scanty allowance of food. When he found this out, he begged that he might not have a larger share than the rest.

“You, a growing lad, want it more than we do,” said Andrew. “And I, for one, feel that if it had not been for you we should have been left to die on the ice far away from this. The crew also said that you enabled them to kill one of the two bears they got the night of our return.”

The want of sufficient food at length began to tell on the frames of the hardy seamen. Parties constantly went out hunting in the hopes of killing seals or bears, but notwithstanding all their skill in capturing the mighty whale, they were unable to catch the wary seals at their blow-holes in the ice, although they succeeded, after a long chase, in obtaining two more bears, who had been tempted by hunger to approach the ship. They were disappointed in receiving no visits from the Esquimaux. Andrew feared truly that the friendly native who had come to their rescue, had himself, on his return, fallen a victim to the savage animals who had followed them when making their way to the ship.

The occurrences on board the “Kate” during that long winter cannot be detailed at length. That dreaded disease, the scurvy, produced by salt provisions and want of vegetable diet, broke out among the crew; more than half were laid up by it, and unable to quit their beds; the good captain himself was also taken ill—he had been long suffering from a disease caught when the ship was first entrapped by the ice, and when it was expected that she would be crushed to pieces, as the “Laplander” had been. Archy had now the satisfaction of repaying his kindness, by watching over him, as a dutiful son would tend a father. He scarcely ever left his side. Much of the time was spent in reading the Bible, the dying captain’s consolation and joy. Again and again he urged on Archy the advice he had before given. Archy did not vow, as some might have done, that he would follow it, but as he knelt by the captain’s bedside, he earnestly prayed that he might have grace to do so. The captain, feeling that his hours were numbered, desired to bid farewell to his crew. It was a sad sight to see the once hardy strong men pass in and out of the cabin—to observe the tottering steps and the pale thin cheeks of most of them. The captain had a word of exhortation and advice for each, and many felt the solemn importance of his words.

The good captain was the first to die, and the doctor feared that ere long several others would sink under the disease from which they suffered. A deep gloom settled on most of the crew, but there was light and brightness in old Andrew’s cabin, which he endeavoured to shed abroad. That light came from within. It arose from his firm faith in God’s loving mercy and protecting providence. “Do not despair, mates,” he said, over and over again. “God has thought fit to take our good captain, who has changed this cold bleak scene for one of brightness and glory in that better land aloft there, where there is room for each one of us too, if we will consent to become the subjects of the being who rules there; but He may not think fit as yet to call us there, though we are His subjects here below. If He does not want us, he will find the means of carrying our ship in safety home.”