The Pilot's Daughter: an account of Elizabeth CullinghamCunningham, Francis
Religion
The Pilot's Daughter: an account of Elizabeth Cullingham
Cunningham, Francis
Christian life; Cullingham, Elizabeth, 1812-1840
no chance remained. None would, at all events, be the first to declare
the awful truth to those broken hearted sufferers.
But there must have been a scene even more affecting than the one now
recorded. In the boat were fifteen men, who were in the very jaws of
destruction. One other heave of the impetuous sea, and their state was
fixed, fixed for ever. Some of them, perhaps, had been drunkards, or
Sabbath breakers, or neglecters of Religion; but now they were called at
once to give account of what they had done, and what they had left
undone, and nothing could be left, to which they might look forward, but
the punishment which awaits the sinner. It is impossible to conceive a
scene more really appalling, although outwardly its awfulness might be
concealed by the anxiety and efforts which it caused. But to think of
the never-dying soul, hitherto uncared for, unprepared with all its sins
upon it, hurried in one moment into judgment, and to the wages of its
transgressions, is awful indeed! What may have been the case of these
men, the day of Judgment will disclose. “Blessed are the dead which die
in the _Lord_.” That it was the portion of James Cullingham so to die,
we can have no doubt. His faith, his converted heart, evidenced by his
life, afford a warrant of good hope as to his condition. He lived to
Christ, and death was doubtless gain to him. Whether at sea, or on his
bed, he might sink in peace, for a joyful inheritance would await him.
But what was the lot of the mourners in his own bereaved family on that
sad night? James Cullingham had left his house in the morning, and that
he was gone, was probably not more noticed than at other times. It was
expected that the yawl which took him out, would in due course return.
Soon however, alarm arose on the beach, and rapidly spread itself in the
town. In the evening, it was naturally expected that some news would
come from the Pilots, for the boat which conveyed them to the vessels
must of necessity return. But no news arrived. Elizabeth had been sent
to bed by her Mother, who with her other daughter sat alone in the house
in the deepest anxiety. The wind became very tempestuous. The snow
drifted. A solemn awe was spread over the cottage. But there was
nothing to be done, but to wait, and pray, and to support the mind in
silence; still hoping that every moment would bring them tidings.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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