e Sunday as if they were in their
homes, while the skippers of large vessels belonging to others fished
all the week round at the beck of their absent owners, thinking they
made more money in that way.

In 1891 the present Lord Southborough, then Mr. Francis Hopwood, and a
member of the Mission Board, returned from a visit to Canada and
Newfoundland. He brought before the Council the opportunities for
service among the fishermen of the northwest Atlantic, and the
suggestion was handed on to me in the form of a query. Would I
consider crossing the Atlantic in one of our small sailing vessels,
and make an inquiry into the problem?

Some of my older friends have thought that my decision to go was made
under strong religious excitement, and in response to some deep-seated
conviction that material sacrifices or physical discomforts commended
one to God. I must, however, disclaim all such lofty motives. I have
always believed that the Good Samaritan went across the road to the
wounded man just because he wanted to. I do not believe that he felt
any sacrifice or fear in the matter. If he did, I know very well that
I did not. On the contrary, there is everything about such a venture
to attract my type of mind, and making preparations for the long
voyage was an unmitigated delight.

The boat which I selected was ketch-rigged--much like a yawl, but more
comfortable for lying-to in heavy weather, the sail area being more
evenly distributed. Her freeboard being only three feet, we replaced
her wooden hatches, which were too large for handling patients, by
iron ones; and also sheathed her forward along the water-line with
greenheart to protect her planking in ice. For running in high seas we
put a large square sail forward, tripping the yard along the foremast,
much like a spinnaker boom. Having a screw steering gear which took
two men to handle quickly enough when she yawed and threatened to jibe
in a big swell, it proved very useful.

It was not until the spring of 1892 that we were ready to start. We
had secured a master with a certificate, for though I was myself a
master mariner, and my mate had been in charge of our vessel in the
North Sea for many years, we had neither of us been across the
Atlantic before. The skipper was a Cornishman, Trevize by name, and a
martinet on discipline--an entirely new experience to a crew of North
Sea fishermen. He was so particular about everything being just so
that quite a few days were