, but not incurable," remarked Fred. "I'll give you some
pills, boy, that'll soon put you all to rights. Now, then, who's next?"

While another of the invalids stepped forward and revealed his
complaints, which were freely commented on by his more or less
sympathetic mates, Fink had opened out a bale of worsted comforters,
helmets, and mitts on deck, and, assisted by Pat Stiver, was busily
engaged in distributing them. "Here you are--a splendid pair of mitts,
Jack," he said, tossing the articles to a huge man, who received them
with evident satisfaction.

"Too small, I fear," said Jack, trying to force his enormous hand into
one of them.

"Hold on! don't bu'st it!" exclaimed Pat sharply; there's all sorts and
sizes here. "There's a pair, now, that would fit Goliath."

"Ah, them's more like it, little 'un," cried the big fisherman. "No
more sea-blisters now, thanks to the ladies on shore," he added, as he
drew the soft mittens over his sadly scarred wrists.

"Now then, who wants this?" continued Fink, holding up a worsted helmet;
"splendid for the back o' the head and neck, with a hole in front to let
the eyes and nose out."

"Hand over," cried David Duffy.

"I say, wot's this inside?" exclaimed one of the men, drawing a folded
paper from one of his mittens and opening it.

"Read, an' you'll maybe find out," suggested the mate.

"`God, who giveth us richly all things to enjoy,'" said the fisherman,
reading from the paper.

"Just so," said Fink, "that's what the lady as made the mitts wants to
let you know so's you may larn to think more o' the Giver than the
gifts."

"I wish," said another of the men testily, as he pulled a tract from
inside one of his mitts, and flung it on the deck, "I wish as how these
same ladies would let religion alone, an' send us them things without
it. We want the mitts, an' comforters, an' helmets, but we don't want
their humbuggin' religion."

"Shame, Dick!" said David Duffy, as he wound a comforter round his thick
neck. "You shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. We're bound to
take the things as they've been sent to us, an' say `Thank 'ee.'"

"If it wasn't for what you call `humbuggin' religion,'" remarked Fink,
looking Dick straight in the face, "it's little that we'd see o'
comforters, or books, or mission ships on the North Sea. Why, d'ee
think that selfishness, or greed, or miserliness, or indifference, or
godlessness would ever take the trouble to send all th