IT was somewhere about the year nineteen hundred and ten, one Saturday in the month of November, that three friends, Nora, Gertrude, and Elizabeth, met on board the Razila, lying alongside the Morocco Wharf at Wapping.
They were full of pleasant anticipation at the thought of all they were going to do and see before they landed again in old England, and eager to explore the ship which was to be their home for three whole weeks. So first of all they went downstairs to find their berths, for on board ship you have to go downstairs, not upstairs, when you go to bed.
Nora and Gertrude, who were sisters, were sharing a cabin, and they found their trunks put ready for them in a little room that had two tiny beds in it. It was much nicer than they had expected, for there was everything in it they would be likely to want, even a wardrobe and drawers, and they quickly set to work to unpack their things and settle in.
There was a little round window in their cabin called a porthole, which looked out over the water, and electric light to switch on when it grew dark.
Elizabeth's cabin was much smaller, but she was very pleased with it because she had it all to herself.
Half past four on a November afternoon was not a very cheerful time to be starting down the river, especially as it soon began to get very foggy; but our friends were wrapped up well and went on deck to see all that could be seen of the historic shores of the Thames. And even though they did not see much they heard plenty, for to judge by the blowing of sirens, there were boats to the right of them, boats to the left of them, boats in front, and boats behind.
Oh, the music those sirens made! Some of them sounded like cooing doves, others like bellowing bulls, while now and then there was a sound like a corncrake, or the growl of some very bad-tempered boy or girl. And then, to the surprise of nearly every one, the boat, which had been moving more and more slowly, stopped altogether.
Whatever had happened? Nobody would answer the question, though a few knew quite well that to go on would have been unsafe. The fog was now so dense that the shore could not be seen, and for some time the Razila had been following the light of a steamer ahead of her, and might have come to disaster but for a friendly shout from another boat, warning that the one in front had run aground.
You see, it is always a mistake to follow any one or anything without being quite sure first that they are on the right track. Many young people, aye, and older ones too, come to grief in the voyage of life, because they do not heed the voice of the Lord Jesus saying: "I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.”
Happy are they who can sing from the heart:
“I heard the voice of Jesus say,
‘I am this dark world's Light;
Look unto Me, thy morn shall rise,
And all thy day be bright ':
I look'd to Jesus, and I found
In Him my Star, my Sun;
And in that Light of life I'll walk
Till traveling days are done.”