“I thank you, sir,” said Peter, touching his hat as he went forward.
“I didn’t expect it from a psalm-singer,” observed the captain to the first-mate with his usual good-natured laugh.
“There is no harm in the lad for all that,” was the answer.
Peter, however, had his trials. Being placed in a watch, he had to turn in and out with his watch-mates. The first night, as usual, he knelt down to say his prayers. He hadn’t been long on his knees, before he was interrupted by a suppressed titter, which soon broke into a peal of laughter from all hands, and several shoes came flying about him. He knelt on, however, trying to keep his thoughts calm, and his heart lifted up to God.
“Well, that young chap does sleep soundly,” cried one; “wake him up, Bill.”
“Hilloa, Peter! are you acting parson?” cried Bill, one of the wildest of the crew.
Peter made no reply, and endeavoured, though it was a hard task, to continue his prayers. Similar jeers and questions were now showered on him from all sides.
“Oh, my Father in heaven,” he mentally ejaculated, “help me to continue to pray and soften the hearts of my shipmates towards me and towards themselves. May they see what a fearful state they are in when thus obeying Satan, and strangers to Thee.”
The men and boys, who, prompted by them, had been the worst, were silent for some minutes, and Peter had nearly finished his prayers, when a fresh volley of all sorts of articles was hove at him. Still he persevered. Now his tormentors burst forth afresh with ribald jests and shouts of laughter.
“If he stands all that he will stand anything,” growled out old Simon Hixon, who, though not taking so active a part as the rest, had encouraged them in their conduct.