"Ay, ay, that I will, heartily; an' I hope for the lady's sake that God Almighty 'll hear us, for I'd sooner die myself than she should, poor gell, for I'm older, and it's my turn afore hers by rights." I clapped him on the back and went below, where I called to the steward and Cornish, both of whom came aft on hearing my voice. During my absence, Miss Robertson had taken the Bible and laid it open on the table; and when the two men came in I said-- "My lads, we are in the hands of God, who is our Father; and I will ask you to join this lady and me in thanking Him for the mercy and protection He has already vouchsafed us, and to pray to Him to lead us out of present peril and bring us safely to the home we love." The steward said "Yes, sir," and looked about him for a place to sit or kneel, but Cornish hung his head and glanced at the door shamefacedly. "You need not stop unless you wish, Cornish," said I. "But why should you not join us? The way you have worked, the honest manner in which you have behaved, amply atone for the past. From no man can more than hearty repentance be expected, and we all stand in need of each other's prayers. Join us, mate." "Won't it be makin' a kind of game o' religion for the likes o' me to pray?" he answered. "I was for murderin' you an' the lady and all hands as are left on board this wessel--what 'ud be the use o' _my_ prayers?" Miss Robertson went over to him and took his hand. "God," said she, "has told us that there is more joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth than over ninety and nine just persons who need no repentance. But who is good among us, Cornish? Be sure that as you repent so are you forgiven. My poor father lies dead in his cabin, and I wish you to pray with me for him, and to pray with us for our own poor lives. Mr. Royle," she said, "Cornish will stay." And with an expression on her face of infinite sweetness and pathos, she drew him to one of the cushioned lockers and seated herself by his side. I saw that her charming wonderful grace, her cordial tender voice, and her condescension, which a man of his condition would feel, had deeply moved him. The steward seated himself on the other side of her, and I began to read from the open book before me, beginning the chapter which she had chosen for us during my absence on deck. This chapter was the eleventh of St. John, wherein is related the story of that sickness "which was not unto death, but for the glory of God, that the Son of God might be glorified thereby."