Part 2 (2/2)
”Water, water,” murmured Grinham. I ran and fetched some, and as I gave it to him I asked where Raven was. ”I don't know,” he answered, somewhat revived by the cool draught. ”It's his watch on deck. He said he felt a little ill when he relieved me.”
Having done what I could for the other man, I went to look for Raven. I found him in the second mate's berth. He too was ill with fever, and seemed to have forgotten that he ought to have been on deck, and that the vessel had been left without anyone to look-out. I told him that the captain had resolved to put to sea the next day. ”Had he gone a week ago the lives of some of us might have been saved, but it is too late now,” he answered with a groan.
Sick at heart, after attending to him, I returned to the cabin, to make my report to the captain.
”What, all! everyone of them sick!” he exclaimed, sighing deeply. ”Then G.o.d have mercy upon us. You must not fall ill, Harry.”
”Not if I can help it, sir,” I replied.
”I must keep up,” he said, and if I can get these Krumen on board we will still put to sea. They are trustworthy fellows, and, Harry, you must be my mate. You are somewhat young; but you have got a head on your shoulders. You must keep your wits alive.
”I'll do my best, sir,” I answered, feeling not a little proud of the rank to which I thus was raised. I had, indeed, for some time past been performing the duties of mate, supercargo, steward, and not unfrequently helping the black cook, Sambo, and, indeed, lending a hand to everything which required to be done. Now Sambo and I were literally the only two people capable of working on board. The captain himself I feared greatly had got the fever, notwithstanding his a.s.sertions to the contrary. It was surprising that I, the youngest in the s.h.i.+p, and least inured to the climate, should have escaped. I had always been very healthy; had never done anything to hurt my const.i.tution, and had followed the captain's advice in keeping out of the sun, and was inclined to feel somewhat self-satisfied on that account--not considering that it was owing to G.o.d's mercy and loving-kindness that I had been preserved.
The captain said he would go and see Raven; but having got up, after moving a few paces, he sat down again with a groan, and a deadly pallor came over his countenance. He felt that he, too, had got the fever. I advised him to lie down again and rest, but to that he would not consent. He was determined to carry on the trade as usual during the day, and to get ready for sea as soon as the black seamen, whom he expected every hour on board, arrived. He sent me up frequently to see whether they were coming off, and now, when too late, he seemed as anxious as anyone had been to get the vessel out of the river.
I was thankful when at length I found two canoes alongside with the expected blacks. The Krumen were fine athletic fellows, neatly dressed in s.h.i.+rts and trousers, and having all served on board men-of-war or in merchant vessels, spoke a little English. They had been hired by the captain's agent on sh.o.r.e; and as their wages had been settled, and they knew the duties they were required to perform, they went to work at once under their head man, who had been appointed to act as boatswain, and seemed inclined to be orderly and obedient. Besides the Krumen there were, as I have before said, several other black seamen engaged, who had been mostly recaptured slaves, and had afterwards entered on board men-of-war or merchant vessels touching at Sierra Leone. I was struck with the manner of one of them, a fine active man, as I, now the only representative of the ”Chieftain's” officers and crew, stood near the gangway to receive them. Touching his hat in a respectful manner, he asked after Captain Willis. ”He know me, Paul Balingo. I sail once with him some time ago. He kind man, so I come again.” I told him that the captain was rather unwell. He had charged me not to let the blacks fancy that he had the fever. I added, that I was sure he would be glad to see him in the cabin.
”I go when you tell I come on board,” answered Paul. ”Sorry to hear him ill.”
”Oh, he says its nothing,” I observed, ”and as soon as the tide serves we are to go down the river, and put to sea.”
I made this remark in obedience to the captain's instructions. I now gave directions to the black boatswain to get the cargo stowed without delay.
The captain was much pleased to hear that Paul Balingo had joined the vessel, and said he would see him at once. ”I remember him well,” he observed, ”a good steady fellow.”
I told Paul to come down, and he received a friendly welcome. I then reminded the captain that there was another duty to be performed. It was to bury the men who had died during the night. This was beyond the strength of those who still survived.
”I see to it, sir,” said Paul.
”The sooner the better then,” observed the captain. ”And when you return we will trip the anchor, if there is wind enough to help us along.”
Four bodies were lowered into the canoe, and Paul and some of his companions took them on sh.o.r.e. He had fastened them up in canvas, for there was no time to make coffins; indeed, the carpenter was among them.
I should like to have accompanied him to pay the last mark of respect I could to the poor fellows, but there were too many duties to be performed on board to allow of this. I watched them, however, through the gla.s.s as they stood on the beach, which formed our burial place. To my surprise, after the graves were dug, I observed Paul Balingo take off his hat--his companions imitating his example--when he seemed to be lifting up his hands in prayer. Then he addressed a number of natives who were standing round, and the bodies were carefully lowered into the graves, and covered up.
When he returned on board I told him that the captain was very much obliged to him for what he had done. ”And I saw too,” I observed, ”that you were praying for the poor fellows.”
”No, ma.s.sa; I no pray for dem,” he answered. ”If when dey died dey loved Jesus Christ, den dey no want my prayers; if dey no love Him, den He no love dem. No, ma.s.sa, me pray for dose that stand round, and for dose still alive. I pray dat G.o.d's Holy Spirit would come into dere hearts, and told dem to love Jesus, and dat He died for sinners. I prayed dat dey would hear His Word, and love Him and serve Him. Den I tell dem that Jesus Christ came down on earth, and become man, and be obedient to G.o.d, and do all dat good child should do who lub him parents, and dat He pure and holy like lamb widout spot or blemish, and dat He died on de cross, and be punished instead of wicked man, and dat G.o.d den say dat one who not deserve punishment being punished He will forgive all dose His dear Son present to Him, who lub Him and serve Him.
Den I tell dem dat Jesus Christ died for dem, and dat if dey trust to Him He put away all dere sins, and G.o.d not look at dere sins any more.
Den I turn de matter about, and I say dat you and all men are poor and naked and covered with dirt and sores, and not fit to go into de presence of pure and holy G.o.d; but if you love Christ and trust dat He died and was punished instead of you, den He put on you a white robe, cover you wid His righteousness, and den when you go to G.o.d He longer see that you are poor and naked, but He only see the white robe, and He say, 'Now you may come into dis pure and bright heaven, and live wid Me.' Then once more I say again, look here, G.o.d put you into this world, and you owe G.o.d everything. You ought to obey Him and serve Him, and give Him all your strength and health, and to try and please Him in all things every moment of your life. Next I remind dem dat none of us do it, so we owe G.o.d a debt, and the longer we live the greater is the debt. It is not den all the things that we do dat G.o.d reckon, but the many things that we ought to do and which we leave undone. We receive all the good things from G.o.d, and we give Him nothing in return. Then we have no means to pay this debt, so Jesus Christ, because He love us, say He pay it, and G.o.d say He accept His payment and set us free. Den I say to the people, Do you believe dis? If you do, and try to love G.o.d, and serve G.o.d, and do what Jesus Christ did when He was on earth, den you have living faith, and you are free, and G.o.d no say longer that you owe Him debt, but He call you His dear children, and when you leave this world He receive you in heaven.”
”Why, Paul,” I exclaimed, after listening with astonishment to what he had said, ”I little expected to hear such things come out of a--” (I was going to say negro's mouth, but changed it to) ”African sailor's mouth.
You ought to be a missionary.”
”Every Christian man ought to be a missionary,” he answered. ”If he love the Lord Jesus, and know that the Lord Jesus love him, then he ought to tell that love to others, and if he knows the value of his own soul then he values the souls of others, and try to win those souls for Christ. The truth is, ma.s.sa, I do want to be missionary, and I seek to go to England to learn more. I there learn to preach the gospel, and when I come back I carry the glad tidings of salvation to my ignorant countrymen.”
I was very much struck with Paul's earnestness and zeal, though at that time I could scarcely comprehend all he said--I myself knew nothing experimentally of the great love of Jesus of which he spoke. The poor black Christian was far more enlightened than I was. Still I felt a satisfaction at having him on board. He at once showed that he was not a mere theoretical Christian, for as soon as his duty on board the s.h.i.+p was over, he devoted himself to attending on the sick men. All the hours he could s.n.a.t.c.h from sleep he spent by the side of their bunks, urging them to trust to Jesus, and to repent of their sins while yet there was time.
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