an open them the skin and flesh
part, and then you see bone and tendon laid bare for salt, or grit, or
any other irritant to act upon. I have seen good fellows drawing their
breath with sharp, whistling sounds of pain, as they worked at the net
with those gaping sores on their gnarled paws. One such crack would send
me demented, I know; but our men bear it all with rude philosophy.
Ferrier learned how to dress these ugly sores with compresses surrounded
by oiled silk. Men could then go about odd jobs without pain, and some
of them told the surgeon that it was like heaven.

Well, there were half a score smashed fingers, a few severe bruises,
several poisoned hands, a crushed foot, and many minor ailments caused
by the incessant cold, hunger, and labour. Ten men should have been sent
home; one died at sea; ten more might have saved their berths if they
could have had a week of rest and proper treatment. My hero was
downcast, but his depression only gave edge and vigour to his resolution
in the end. He had learned the efficacy of prayer now--prayer to a
loving and all-powerful Father; and he always had an assured sense of
protection and comfort when he had told his plain tale and released his
heart. I, the writer, should have smiled at him in those days, but I am
not so sure that I could smile with confidence now.

Lennard stuck to his favourite with helpful gallantry, and became so
skilled a nurse that Ferrier was always content to leave him in charge.
Both men tried to cheer each other; both were sick for home, and there
is no use in disguising the fact. When Ferrier one day came across the
simple lines--

"Perhaps the selfsame song has found a path
To the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
She stood in tears amid the alien corn,"

he came near to imitating Ruth. He knew his duty well enough, but the
affections and the spirit are strong. Then the almost ceaseless bad
weather, and the many squalid conditions of life, were wearing to body
and soul.

An abominable day broke soon after Frank had sailed for home, and a sea
got up which threatened to shake the spars out of our smack. Half a gale
blew; then a whole gale; then a semi-hurricane, and at last all the
ships had to take in the fourth reef in the mainsail. The two Samaritans
were squatting on the floor in the cabin (after they had nailed canvas
strips across the sides of the berths to prevent the patients from
falling out), for no muscular power on earth co