nny, bright, promising youth who had
not reached his seventeenth year. The _Cauducas_ had been in port
for a couple of weeks and was on the point of sailing, when news came
that Captain Bourne's second son had been washed overboard and drowned
from the vessel he was serving aboard of. The presentiment that this
would happen had been overshadowed by the interest taken in the loss of
the eldest boy. When the news was broken to him, a sullen, stupefied
gaze came into his eyes. He murmured a few incoherent words, and then
with a superhuman effort he raised his voice, and with emphasis that
was terrible as well as pathetic he called out: "Oh, God, what have I
done to You that You should allow this thing to be done to me? I have
had two bonny lads taken from me within a month of each other. Oh, God,
help me to bear the trial like a man!"

This fine old sailor, believed he was holding communion with a personal
power of British nationality that could sway the universe at His will.
He believed, though he could not see Him, that God was a person that
kept Himself out of sight for a purpose, and that it was the duty of
every Englishman to keep on good terms with Him. The mystery of
divinity never entered his head. It was a simple, steadfast faith,
peculiar if you like, but unyielding in devotional loyalty to His
supremacy. It was a wonderful phenomenon, which even cynical logicians
might have found embarrassing to their iconoclastic notions could they
have witnessed it. Here was an uncultured though magnificent-looking
person passing through a sorrowful tribulation, exciting the pity and
calling for the admiration of hundreds of his fellow creatures, because
he was able to hold his head up and appeal to the only power he knew
that was capable of giving him consolation and courage. "Oh, God, help
me to bear the trial like a man!" That was the melancholy burden of his
petition, and the assurance that it would be answered never forsook
him.

His vessel was soon ready for sea, and sailed on the first of a series
of voyages that were contracted for her to run. On the completion of
these he was asked by his owner to take command of a barque of about
600 tons deadweight. To an ordinary man and to the average shipmaster
of that time, the opportunity of being shifted from an old rattle-trap
brig to the enviable position of commander of a "South Spainer" would
have been accepted with excessive pride and gratitude; but Bourne was
not an or