“It ’ud be a shame of a man like me not to know all as you said this mornin’, sir—leastways I don’t mean able to say it right off as you do, sir; but not to know it, after the Almighty had been at such pains to beat it into my hard head just to trust in Him and fear nothing and nobody—captain, bosun, devil, sunk rock, or breakers ahead; but just to mind Him and stand by halliard, brace, or wheel, or hang on by the leeward earing for that matter. For, you see, what does it signify whether I go to the bottom or not, so long as I didn’t skulk? or rather,” and here the old man took off his hat and looked up, “so long as the Great Captain has His way, and things is done to His mind? But how ever a man like you, goin’ to the college, and readin’ books, and warm o’ nights, and never, by your own confession this blessed mornin’, sir, knowin’ what it was to be downright hungry, how ever you come to know all those things, is just past my comprehension, except by a double portion o’ the Spirit, sir. And that’s the way I account for it, sir.” Although I knew enough about a ship to understand the old man, I am not sure that I have properly represented his sea-phrase. But that is of small consequence, so long as I give his meaning. And a meaning can occasionally be even better CONVEYED by less accurate words. “I will try to tell you how I come to know about these things as I do,” I returned. “How my knowledge may stand the test of further and severer trials remains to be seen. But if I should fail any time, old friend, and neither trust in God nor do my duty, what I have said to you remains true all the same.” “That it do, sir, whoever may come short.” “And more than that: failure does not necessarily prove any one to be a hypocrite of no faith. He may be still a man of little faith.” “Surely, surely, sir. I remember once that my faith broke down—just for one moment, sir. And then the Lord gave me my way lest I should blaspheme Him in thy wicked heart.” “How was that, Rogers?”