“I think, gentlemen, that ... that Father Roget is the older man.”  He spoke haltingly, and a flush dyed his smooth, clean-shaven face from brow to chin.  “Will you not ask him?” Then his eyes dropped again.

Robertson, who was in a hurry, and yet had a sincere but secret respect for old Bruce’s unobtrusive religious feelings, now backed up his mate’s request.

“I think, sir, that as the mate says, a bit of a short prayer would not be out of place just now, seeing the mess we are in.  And that poor old gentleman over there is too done up to stand on his feet.  So will you please begin, sir.  Steward, call the ladies.  We can no longer disguise from them, Mr. Lacy, that we are in a bad way—­as bad a way as I have ever been in during my thirty years at sea.”

In a couple of minutes the two De Boos girls, Miss Weidermann, and the native girl Mina, came out of their cabins; and when the steward said that Mrs. Lacy felt too ill to leave her berth, her husband could not help giving an audible sigh of relief.  Then he braced up and spoke with firmness.

“Please shut Mrs. Lacy’s door, steward.  Mr. Bruce, will you lend me your church service—­I do not want to go into my cabin for my own.  My wife, I fear, has given way.”

The mate brought the church service, and then whilst the men stood with bowed heads, and the women knelt, the clergyman, with strong, unfaltering voice read the second of the prayers “To be used in Storms at Sea.”  He finished, and then sitting down again, placed one hand over his eyes.

“The living, the living shall praise Thee.”

It was the old mate who spoke.  He alone of the men had knelt beside the women, and when he rose his face bore such an expression of calmness and content, that Otway, who five minutes before had been silently cursing him for his “damned idiotcy,” looked at him with a sudden mingled respect and wonder.

Stepping across to the clergyman, Bruce respectfully placed his hand on his shoulder, and as he spoke his clear blue eyes smiled at the still kneeling women.

“Cheer up, sir.  God will protect ye and your gude wife, and us all.  You, his meenister, have made supplication to Him, and He has heard.  Dinna weep, ladies.  We are in the care of One who holds the sea in the hollow of His hand.”

Then he followed the captain and the others on deck, Otway alone remaining to assist the steward.

“For God’s sake give me some brandy,” said Lacy to him, in a low voice.

Otway looked at him in astonishment.  Was the man a coward after all?

He brought the brandy, and with ill-disguised contempt placed it before him without a word.  Lacy looked up at him, and his face flushed.

“Oh, I’m not funking—­not a d——­d bit, I can assure you.”

Otway at once poured out a nip of brandy for himself, and clinked his glass against that of the clergyman.