Life in India/Joyful Days
Joyful Days.
The following Sabbath was a joyful day with us. Our morning Bible-class, which we held as usual among ourselves, was pleasant and profitable, and our afternoon sermon very solemn. In consequence of a special invitation, five men were present, who, for eight weeks past, had not walked the length of the deck to attend public worship. The captain listened eagerly, and with a visible agitation; afterward he read attentively in “Doddridge's Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul."
Strange to say, up to this time he had supposed his concern of mind to be known only to himself; but the change in his bearing had been for some days too great to pass unnoticed. He was serious in his deportment, and kind both to passengers and sailors, though he had been greatly tried by the behaviour of some of the crew. At our evening prayers he was regular in his attendance. It was evident that he was burdened with a sense of sin and misery. He also evinced much interest in what was being done for the crew. In a conversation with one of his passengers, he requested that “old Bob," a poor Greek sailor, who had long been ill, might have such instruction as he needed. The missionary took occasion to urge upon him the duty and privilege of immediate trust in Christ as a Saviour. The Spirit of God was striving with him, and we feared that if he cast off these solemn impressions, he would be left to go on and perish in his sins.
We were now on our hundredth day at sea. Its evening was bright and beautiful, and our ship dashed nobly through the water. The captain was seated on the ship's rail when I came on deck. He soon came over to the side which I was pacing, and taking a seat, said that he would like to speak with me when I had done walking. After a turn or two, I took my seat upon the rail beside him. He gazed for a few moments at the glittering waters; then turning to me, said, “I have news to tell that you will be glad to hear, I have the assurance that I can say, I know that my Redeemer liveth.” I could but grasp his hand and say, “Good news, indeed! This is the Lord's doing; it is marvellous in our eyes."
The conversation of the morning with our companion had deeply impressed him, and he went to his state-room to pray. But here arose a struggle—should he go down upon his knees and pray! His pride revolted from it; he would stand and pray. He did so, but it was of no avail, for he knew that he had not humbled himself before God. A fierce struggle arose in his breast. It was the strong man armed keeping his goods. Satan was loath to leave his seat. But a stronger than he had come to demand entrance. The poor sinner felt that he must yield or perish; that this was the turning-point in his history; that he must go down upon his knees and cry for forgiveness, or be lost. The Spirit of God triumphed! The proud knees were bowed, the hard heart melted into penitency. Angels rejoiced, for a sinner had repented. His burden was gone, and his heart went up in praise and thanksgiving to God.
I cannot repeat all that he said; but, among other things, he mentioned that after dinner he had gone to his room with the intention of lying down to sleep, as he had a headache. He did not sleep, however; the thoughts of his heart ascended to God, and he felt a happiness he had never known before. It seemed as if he could almost see the light of his Saviour's countenance, and he thought that should he in a moment be taken to heaven, he still would long to see other souls saved. "Yes," he continued, “the souls of those men on board whom I have cursed in my heart and wished ——" but the sentence was not ended. He said that he had determined to acknowledge Christ before men that day," and had intended to do so at evening prayers, but his heart failed him.
After a long conversation I went below; and, with the captain's permission, collecting our company from their state-rooms, (for the hour was now late,) made known to them these glad tidings. It was an exciting moment, for our anxiety had been most intense. Some smiled, some wept, some wondered; but all rejoiced, while, uniting in prayer, we gave glory to God. The next day had been set apart as a day of fasting and special prayer for our captain; but, having experienced the fulfilment of the promise, “Before they call I will answer them,” we resolved to employ it as a day of thanksgiving.
This was the day of my first visit to the ship's forecastle. Entering by a narrow hatchway, with a sliding door, and descending a few steep steps, I found myself in a close little room in the bow of the vessel. In shape, it was semicircular, with nine berths against the wall, (only half as many berths are needed as there are men, since one watch is always on deck,) and over against the berths were the sailors' chests, which also served for seats. On entering, I was warmly invited to take a seat, “such as it was," on one of the chests. At first the dim light admitted by the doorway, made still more dim by clouds of tobacco-smoke, wrapped the scene in a misty twilight. Gradually the shape of the forecastle, and the employments of the men, became more distinct. On my right was seated Aleck, an American, very ignorant and very depraved, the worst man in the ship; he was busy with his thread and needle, repairing the damages of the last squall, and saluted me heartily. Next was George, a tall Italian, swarthy and black-eyed, who rolled his long body out of a berth as a mark of respect to the visitor. Beside him was Irish Jack, a lively, active fellow, but now in disgrace for insolence to the first mate. On my left sat Andrew the Swede, always tidy and clean, gravely smoking his pipe. Boy George, old Bob the Greek, with Irish Jimmy, completed the watch—a motley group of seven men of five different nations. And yet, with much wickedness, profaneness and recklessness, there was so much of the whole-souled frankness of the sailor, that they were a most interesting company. My proposal to spend an hour with them every other morning, when they would have "the watch below," was accepted with a hearty "Yes, sir!" from them all.
Sunday came, and its first sound betokened the change that had taken place. It was a broom sweeping the deck; there was to be no deck-washing to-day. For the first time on the voyage the previous afternoon had been given to both watches, that they might prepare for the Sabbath, and have no work to do upon that holy day. After spending an hour with the crew in the forecastle, I returned to the cabin, leaving almost the whole crew as quietly engaged with their tracts and books as if in a Sunday-school. In the cabin, the usual Bible class had resolved itself into a prayer-meeting; and there, in his arm-chair, sat our captain. Two or three had spoken or led in prayer, when, suddenly and unexpectedly, his voice was heard in broken tones of earnest supplication. It was deeply affecting to see the proud man humbled and become as a little child. He praised God for his mercy, besought the forgiveness of his sins, and prayed that all on board might fear God. Nor was his confession general; it was not our sins, but “my sins," that he confessed and bewailed.
Permission to have public worship on deck, which had been heretofore steadily refused, was now given unasked, and no one was so busy as our captain in preparing suitable accommodations. Both watches were invited to attend, and three only (all foreigners) were absent. The men, with the officers and passengers, were seated about the preacher, and earnestly listened to the word of God; while the helmsman stood reverently at his post with his head uncovered during the whole service. Rarely have I been one of so solemn an assembly. The sermon was on the folly of delaying repentance, from the text, “Oh that they were wise, that they understood this, that they would consider their latter end!” It seemed to sink into the hearts of the hearers. One poor fellow, deeply burdened with sin, was unable to restrain his emotions, and our captain wept often. Before long, the young man alluded to had learned to look to God his Saviour, and rejoice in him.