“What!  I on board?”

“Yes; ask Willis.”

“If you were not, captain, how could you come to my cabin every night and ask me questions?” inquired the latter.

At this point, a shade of anxiety crossed Littlestone’s features; he turned and looked at the missionary—­the missionary looked at Fritz—­Fritz stared at his brother—­Jack gazed at Willis—­and Willis, with a puzzled air, regarded everybody in turn.

“At last,” continued Jack, “after experiencing a variety of both good and bad fortune, sometimes vanquished and sometimes the victors, first wounded, then cured, we arrived here in Havre, where, for a time, we were plunged into the deepest poverty; we were blacksmiths and carpenters by turns, and thought ourselves fortunate when we had a chair to mend or a horse to shoe.”

“The workings of Providence,” said the missionary, “are very mysterious, and, perhaps, you will allow me to illustrate this fact by drawing a comparison.  A ship is at the mercy of the waves; it sways, like a drunken man, sometimes one way and sometimes another.  All on board are in commotion, some are hurrying down the hatchways, and others are hurrying up.  The sailors are twisting the sails about in every possible direction.  Some of the men are closing up the port-holes, others are working at the pumps.  The officers are issuing a multiplicity of orders at once, the boatswain is constantly sounding his whistle.  There is no appearance of order, confusion seems to reign triumphant, and there is every reason to believe that the commands are issued at random.”

“I have often wondered,” said Jack, “how so many directions issued on ship board in a gale at one and the same moment could possibly be obeyed.”

“Let us descend, however, to the captain’s cabin,” continued the missionary.  “He is alone, collected, thoughtful, and tranquil, his eye fixed upon a chart.  Now he observes the position of the sun, and marks the meridian; then he examines the compass, and notes the polary deviation.  On all sides are sextants, quadrants, and chronometers.  He quietly issues an order, which is echoed and repeated above, and thus augments the babel on deck.”

“A single order,” remarked Willis, “often gives rise to changes in twenty different directions.”

“On deck,” continued the missionary, “the crew appear completely disorganized.  In the captain’s cabin, you find that all this apparent confusion is the result of calculation, and is essential to the safety of the ship.”

“Still,” said Jack, “it is difficult to see how this result is effected by disorder.”

“True; and, therefore, we must rely upon the skill of the captain; we behold nothing but uproar, but we know that all is governed by the most perfect discipline.  So it is with the world; society is a ship, men and their passions are the mast, sails, rigging, the anchors, quadrants, and sextants of Providence.  We understand nothing of the combined action of these instruments; we tremble at every shock, and fear that every whirlwind is destined to sweep us away.  But let us penetrate into the chamber of the Great Ruler.  He issues his commands tranquilly; we see that He is watching over our safety; and whatever happens, our hearts beat with confidence, and our minds are at rest.”