“I have been but an humble instrument in His hand, Terence,” answered Andrew, in his usual calm, humble tone. “You see, I should be very wrong, and very wicked indeed, if, knowing what is right, I did not take every opportunity, when there was no fear of discrediting religion, to teach my shipmates.”
“You spoke to me at a proper time, Andrew; and your words had, I hope, a right effect,” I observed.
“And to me also,” said Tom; “and I thank you.”
“Well, shipmates, bad as we are off, and worse as we may be, I don’t feel unhappy when I hear you say those words; that I can tell you,” exclaimed Andrew. “It’s a joyful thing for a man, when he has seen the sun rise for the last time, to feel that there is a chance of some few things being scored in his favour in the world to which he’s bound. But mind you, I don’t say it’s what I would pride myself on, for I know that the most one can do may count as nothing; but still it’s pleasant, and nothing can make it otherwise.”
Strange as it may seem, thus we talked on. Indeed, what other subject could we talk on but religion? for every moment we felt that we might be in the presence of our Maker. As Andrew warned us, the shock the iceberg had received by the ship striking against it might have detached what are called calves, great lumps from the bottom, and, should the gale increase, it might capsize in an instant.
We had many hours to wait for daylight. We were so well clothed, from its having been our watch on deck, that we did not feel the cold particularly; but poor Tom continued to suffer. Fortunately Andrew discovered in his pocket his pipe with some tobacco, and a flint and steel. He lighted the pipe, and let Tom have a smoke, which revived and warmed him, and we then all took a few whiffs round. This little luxury seemed to do us much good. We sheltered Tom as much as we could from the wind with our bodies; and we wrung out his wet jacket, and chafed his hands and feet till the circulation was restored. The night, however, seemed interminable. To favour us still further, the wind fell, and shifted further to the south, which made it much warmer. The sea also went down, for it did not seem to lash with such fury as before our floating resting-place.
“What chance have we of escaping?” I asked of Andrew, after a lengthened silence.
“There may be some of the wreck cast up on the berg, and with it we may make a raft, and reach the coast of Newfoundland or Labrador; or the berg itself may be driven ashore, but that I do not think at all likely; or we may be seen by some ship and taken off. I know of no other possible chance of escape.”
“Then I trust we may be seen by some ship,” I ejaculated. “There must be many whalers in these parts.”
“They keep farther to the eastward, generally,” replied Andrew. “They are also not fond of icebergs, and try to avoid them.”