“AND is my little girl afraid to let her big father go out fishing?” asked a kindly fisherman of his little daughter one day, as, carrying her down to the beach, he felt her little hand tighten over his.
“No, not exactly afraid, father, only mother and I have only you now Benny has gone.”
“But our Ben has gone home to the happy land, where there is no more sea,” said her father gently, “and we are going to join him there some day. You are coming, Nell?” he asked, pressing her nearer to him.
“I hope so, father.” Nell answered, and paused as if wanting to say more.
“My child,” said her father, lifting her down and taking her hand as he walked on, “God does not leave our reaching heaven to a doubtful hope—it is certain, one way or the other. If you and I get into my boat this morning, and directly you are in I say to you, Nell, are you in, my child?’ Would it not be the only thing to say, ‘Yes, father,’ not ‘I hope so, father’?” The face looking down at the little girl was very earnest, and Nell longed to be able to satisfy him that she was sure.
When they reached the beach, and the well-painted boat, with its name shining in the sun, rocked just before them, Nell felt her heart too full. Mother had said the sky was over-casting, and had had fears as she let father go, and so Nell, who was only a little girl, hardly knew how to part with the one so precious to her.
“Come, Nell, cheer up,” said her father, as he gave her a parting kiss. “I shall pull in my nets and be home before you come home from school, child. Come, smile before I push off.”
Nell clung to him, but tried to smile too, through her tears, and as she saw him row away on the dancing waters, silt almost forgot her fears for the time.
It was late in the afternoon that once more she stood on the beach; now her mother’s hand held hers tightly clasped. One after another they watched the boats come, but their boat, the bright bonnie Nell, had not come. Neither spoke.
The blustering wind and heavy mist nearly blinded them, for the storm they feared in the morning had broken far sooner than expected, and the sea was lashing the shore with fearful breakers. There was an occasional shout from the excited fishermen as another boat came in, and the name called loudly so as to set some watcher’s heart at rest, but the name Nell and her mother longed to hear seemed never coming.
All at once there was a ringing cheer, and they heard the voice they knew so well respond, and in another moment Nell felt her father’s hand on hers and her mother’s.
Now again they were watchers, for there were yet three boats out on the wild sea, and one was Sam’s—the worst man in the village. Many hearts went up to God for that poor man. They knew that if the sea engulfed him, he would be where hope could never come. Again the straining eyes saw something, as for one instant the clouds broke and the moon shone out; a man alone upon the rocks, no boat, no hope—so near, and yet so hopeless.
A wailing cry from a woman, “Can no one save my Sam?” broke on their ears. Nell’s father unclasped his hand.
“Oh, not you, father! not you!” cried Nell, in an agony of terror, “not you, father.”
“Christ died for me, little one,” he answered, “and I must try and help Sam.” “But he’s so bad,” she pleaded.
“Nell, my wife, say I must go,” he said gently; “there is danger, but Christ died for me” he repeated.
The answer was inaudible—one passionate kiss to both, and he was gone. He, the best swimmer in the village, was the only one in whom there lay any hope of reaching poor Sam before the waves licked him from his hold.
He bore the rope into the seething waters, and then all was still. The jagged rock was reached, the rope secured to Sam, when a mighty wave broke over them, and one sank to rise no more. When the rope was hauled in, only Sam’s form lay on the beach. Nell’s father was safe beyond the reach of storms.
Years passed, and now there often sits an old sailor mending nets for those who are still strong to brave the sea, who is never tired of telling how one to whom he had ever been most cruel, had given his life for him, to teach him of that Saviour, Who, while we were yet sinners, died for the ungodly. “He gave his life for me,” the old sailor would say over and over: “Blessed Lord, blessed Lord. When I came to that awful night, I right away gave myself to Jesus, Who alone could save me from my sins.
“You see that lass there, well, that’s his gal―her mother never held up her head arter her husband died for me, and she pined away, but Nell there, she came round agin, and she’s my darter now—bless her heart, my Ben’s that proud of her. Wull, wull, things is very strange how the Almighty works. All I know is it needed a mighty Saviour to save me, and Jesus died for me.”