Yes! at last he had remembered his Father’s home. There, in the dark berth, where every move caused irritation, and the unclean atmosphere brooded over his senses like lead; when his forehead burned, and his heart melted within him, and he had felt almost inclined to curse his life, or even to end it by crawling up and committing himself to the deep cold water which, he heard rippling on the vessel’s side; then, even then, in that valley of the shadow of death, a Voice had come to him--a still small Voice--at whose holy and healing utterance Eric had bowed his head, and listened to the messages of God, and learnt his will; and now, in humble resignation, in touching penitence with solemn self-devotion, he had cast himself at the feet of Jesus, and prayed to be helped, and guided, and forgiven. One little star of hope rose in the darkness of his solitude, and its rays grew brighter and brighter, till they were glorious now. Yes, for Jesus’ sake he was washed, he was cleansed, he was sanctified, he was justified; he would fear no evil, for God was with him and underneath were the everlasting arms. And while he sat there, undisturbed at last, and unmolested by harsh word or savage blow, recovering health with every breath of the sea wind, the skipper came up to him, and muttered something half-like an apology. The sight of him, and the sound of his voice, made Eric shudder again, but he listened meekly, and, with no flash of scorn or horror, put out his hand to the man to shake. There was something touching and noble in the gesture, and, thoroughly ashamed of himself for once, the fellow shook the proffered hand, and slunk away. They entered the broad river at Southpool. “I must leave the ship when we get to port, Roberts,” said Eric. “I doubt whether you’ll let you,” answered Roberts, jerking his finger towards the skipper’s cabin. “Why?” “He’ll be afeard you might take the law on him.” “He needn’t fear.” Roberts only shook his head. “Then I must run away somehow. Will you help me?” “Yes, that I will.” That very evening Eric escaped from the Stormy Petrel, unknown to all but Roberts. They were in the dock, and he dropped into the water in the evening, and swam to the pier, which was only a yard or two distant; but the effort almost exhausted his strength, for his knee was still painful, and he was very weak. Wet and penniless, he knew not where to go, but spent the sleepless night under an arch. Early the next morning he went to a pawnbroker’s, and raised £2:10s. on his watch, with which money he walked straight to the railway station.