"Yes. What's up?"
"We've got a man dying here, and not one of my white-livered hounds will
go in the small boat."
"Can't you persuade them?"
"No. They'll forfeit their voyage first."
"Edge away from us, and I'll see."
By this time the two smacks were almost in collision, but they went
clear. The skipper went below and stated the case. Ferrier listened
grimly.
"What do you think, skipper?"
"Your life's precious, sir. You've come to be like the apple of my eye;
I'd rather die myself than you should go."
"Are your men game enough?"
"I'm going myself if you go. If I die I shall be in my Master's
service."
"Is it so very bad?"
"Very."
"What's our chance?"
"Ten to one against us ever coming back."
"It's long odds. Shove the boat out."
"Stop a bit, sir. Don't smile at an old man. Let's put it before the
Lord. I never found that fail. Come, sir, and I'll pray for you."
"All cant," do you say, reader? Maybe, my friend, but I wish you and I
could only have the heart that the words came from. The skipper bared
his good grey head, and prayed aloud.
"Lord, Thou knowest we are asked to risk our lives. We are in Thine
hands, and our lives are nothing. Say, shall we go? We shall know in our
hearts directly if you tell us. Spare us, if it be Thy will; if not,
still Thy will be done. We are all ready." After a pause the skipper
said, "We'll do it, sir. Shove on your life-jacket. I'll take two
life-buoys.
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