Then hoisting all sail and putting our helm about, we prepared to strike across the current for the rocky prominence pointed out to us—which was now plainly in view—hoping and praying for a favorable wind to help us on. No sooner, however, had we started on our way, than a light skiff suddenly crossed our bows, and coming near enough to hail us, their chief officer shouted, “Wherever are you going?” And before we could reply, he continued: “You surely are not going to venture near those dismal rocks, at the point of the headland up yonder: for if you do so, you will assuredly come to grief, and be sadly bruised, if not broken to pieces. Now look astern for a moment, and you will see a much safer and pleasanter course by which to proceed on your voyage. For, only a short distance off, you will find the smooth and beautiful channel that leads directly to the renowned island of Fameland, which is, as everyone knows, the most glorious and elevated place in all the world. You can, even now, with the aid of your glasses, see the grand and lofty pinnacle of that famous isle, towering up to the clouds, bathed in perpetual sunshine.
“It is from that high mountain ‘that all the kingdoms of the world can be seen, and all the glory of them.’
“Put up your telescopes for a moment, and behold the beauty and glory of that lofty pinnacle. There on that eminence you may discern at this moment the vast crowds of happy mortals who have been fortunate enough to climb to its summit, basking in the serene glory of it, and looking down with supreme delight upon the whole world beneath them: while they are being admired, and even adored, by the multitudes below, who aspire to reach in like manner that commanding height.
“Think of the intense satisfaction enjoyed by those favored mortals who have gained that high and charming position, incessantly praised and admired as they are by their fellows.”
Looking now through our telescopes, (Alas! we had already forgotten the words of the Helper, and that we had set out for the way of deliverance) we beheld truly what appeared a glorious spectacle, and were all charmed with it. There we saw—as the stranger had told us—the so-called great ones of the earth, basking in the sunshine of that lofty pinnacle; as they were being admired by the crowds beneath, who were continually shouting and singing their praises.
“That must be delightful,” exclaimed Thoughts and Feelings in the same breath; while Mr. Heart was quietly enjoying the sight and was even ready at once to accept the offer of the stranger to pilot us towards that great mountain of Fameland.
Such was his fickleness and perverseness, notwithstanding all the solemn warnings we had received and the trying experiences through which we had recently passed.
But Mr. Conscience, though still very feeble, on turning to the Royal charts (as he had begun to lose confidence in Way-of-the-world’s maps by this time) to see if aught might be found therein concerning this wondrous Fameland, remarked, “Mr. Heart, see, here I find it written, ‘Man that is in honor, and understandeth not, is like the beasts that perish.’ and, ‘for men to search their own glory is not glory.’”
“But that,” said Thoughts, “may be no reason why we should not go and see that grand mountain, though we may not attempt to climb it.”
“Truly,” said Feelings, “and for my part I do not see why we may not even strive to gain the summit, and like so many others enjoy, for a while at least, the glorious sights to be had from that lofty pinnacle.” In this our boatswain, Mr. Emotions, and the rest of the crew heartily concurred.
“Then,” added Captain Will, “if we do go that way for a short cruise we can easily return this way, or find some other good, navigable channel, direct to a safe haven somewhere on the other side of the ocean.”
“Well, but hearken,” replied Mr. Conscience, “to what Prince Emmanuel Himself says concerning the danger of visiting that region.
“‘How can ye believe, which receive honor one from another, and seek not the honor that cometh from God only?’ Thus it would appear that by shaping our course for Fameland, we should be going in the very opposite direction to the way of safety pointed out to us. Moreover, from these and other words of the Royal charts, I gather that in Fameland, as much as in the other isles of the world, the words of the great King are wholly disregarded, and where indeed deliberate rebellion against His authority is persistently maintained. Consequently, nothing but shame, disaster, and it may be utter destruction, awaits us there—however fair and beautiful the place may appear to us now.”
On hearing these words, poor Mr. Heart trembled like an aspen leaf; and we all became silent with fear. To our companion, who still followed, urging us to go with him, we replied—in our great fear—that just then we would not accept his offer. And well it was, indeed, that we were preserved from going with that plausible pilot, for afterward we learned that he was the wily Abaddon himself: and that of all the places in those islands, the lofty heights of Fameland were about the most dangerous. Later, too, we learned that innumerable hosts of infatuated mortals, in their frenzied attempts to climb that giddy height, had fallen headlong down its slippery sides, and had thus perished miserably.
To catch a few faint fleeting sounds of praise,
The muttered adulations of the crowd;
The breath of mortals, fickle as the wind,
Which in some fitful moments may be changed
To execrations loud and deep, and wild,
What will not erring mortals do and dare?
Through dang’rous climes, and deserts wild they’ll roam,
Or climb foolhardy up earth’s highest peaks,
Or at the cannon’s mouth in battle fierce,
They’ll stare grim death himself full in the face.
Anon, they’ll soar in wild aerial flights
Among the clouds, swung in a frail machine,
Madly to catch the sounds of praise, or die.
But of this craze for fame, what tongue could tell
Of all the daring deeds of reckless man?
Who risks his all, yea, his immortal soul!
With all its splendid destiny and hopes,
To climb that dang’rous pinnacle of fame;
And on its top, just for an hour to stand,
To be admired; then in a moment slide
Down to the depth of darkness and of woe.
Like one, who when he heard the shouts of praise,
Rise from a crowd of foolish, thoughtless tongues,
“It is the voice of God and not of man,”
Became inflated, and to himself then took
The weed of praise, due but to God alone:
And when vile worms upon his body fed,
Struck by an angel, then his spirit fled
To outer darkness, ‘neath the stroke of God.
Now owing to all this reckless hesitation, while gazing upon and admiring the giddy heights of Fameland—our sails meanwhile flapping idly in the wind, and our helm neglected—we found that we had drifted considerably out of our course and by this time had entirely lost sight of the rocky point to which we had been directed.
Then in our perplexity Mr. Thoughts, as well as our Pilot, began to look over the Royal charts again, as we had purposed to abandon, if possible, those perilous islands altogether (more, however, from fear than any desire to please or serve the King) and shape our course for the safest port we could find on the other side.
After a while, Mr. Thoughts tried to cheer us by saying that we need not give ourselves any further trouble about the rocky point, (around which we were to sail for the Strait-of-the-Cross) as he had found from the King’s charts another easier and shorter channel, by which we could safely reach the Port of Paradise itself.
“I am truly glad to know that” said Feelings, “as I must confess I did not altogether like the look of that dark rocky point and thought we might have been misinformed at the light ship.”
“Now it would appear,” continued Thoughts, “that there runs a channel at some little distance windward of this called Well Doing—or Good Works, as some call it—which is laid down and clearly defined in the King’s charts, in these words: ‘To them who by patient continuance in well doing seek for glory and honor and immortality, eternal life.’ And in another place, ‘Ye see then how that by works a man is justified, and not by faith.’”
“Being thus distinctly marked out for us in the Royal charts, with the authority of the King, it must be a perfectly safe channel by which we shall in due time, and without fail, reach the port of everlasting rest, on the other side of this ocean.
“It may be a somewhat difficult passage to navigate (as I find it elsewhere described) on account of a strong head wind that generally prevails there, while having at the same time to sail right against the tide.
“But we are told in the charts that we must by our own diligent and persevering efforts work our way steadily through it (which I presume we are well able to do); for thus is written, ‘Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling.’”
Both the Captain and Mr. Heart were well pleased with this discovery of Thoughts, for neither of them liked the appearance of the rocky promontory, and so wished to avoid it, if possible. Nor did they fully believe what had been told us by the King’s messengers about the Strait-of-the-Cross.
Acting now in accordance with the information supplied to us by Thoughts, we set out with all haste to reach this Good Works channel, and then found we had again to sail directly against the strong current, which, as before, proved extremely difficult, and indeed impossible without assistance.
Then we had recourse to our old paddles again: but as it always had happened before, they broke at every turn, owing as I said to the extreme rottenness of the wood of which they were made. And not being able to gain any firm hold on the stream, by reason of its force and swiftness, we continued to drift downwards with the tide, far more than we gained by our own hard and fruitless efforts.
While thus painfully toiling, and all hands (even Heart and Conscience) being vigorously engaged— for we greatly longed to find some place of rest and safety—the heavens became suddenly overcast with dense black clouds, and a dreadful storm burst upon us. The vivid flashes of lightning, and the loud roar of the thunder that followed, filled us all with terror and alarm, as we had never before experienced such a tempest.
Overcome with fright, Heart hastily retreated to his cabin below, saying as he went that the lightning shafts seemed specially directed towards him, for his neglect of all the King’s warnings. And he had no sooner reached his cabin than the solemn voice, in louder tones than he had ever heard before, added to his terror by uttering the words: “Despisest thou the riches of His goodness and forbearance and long-suffering; not knowing that the goodness of God leadeth thee to repentance? But after thy hardness and impenitent heart treasurest up unto thyself wrath against the day of wrath and revelation of the righteous judgment of God.”
Mr. Conscience, who was now greatly agitated, also declared that in the roar of that terrific thunder, he heard the strange words of an awful voice saying, “By the deeds of the law there shall no flesh be justified in His sight: for by the law is the knowledge of sin.” And again the thunder uttered, “Without shedding of blood is no remission. It is the blood that maketh atonement for the soul.”
Though we did not then comprehend the full meaning of those mysterious words, we saw that by foolishly choosing our own way we had exposed ourselves to the righteous judgments of heaven, as expressed in those awful thunders and lightnings.
Then, as the heavens grew darker and darker, and the lightning and thunder became still more terrible, while wind and tide and everything appeared against us, we fully expected to be overwhelmed by the storm and totally lost.
“Thoughts,” exclaimed Mr. Conscience, “has evidently misunderstood the charts; and we have been led into a course that is displeasing to the King: whom we have wickedly offended by our repeated disobedience.”
“No doubt,” said Mr. Heart, “and we have behaved foolishly in not following the directions of the Helper at the light ship: for it was through the goodness and mercy of the King He was put there to guide us, and other mariners, to the way of Repentance, that leadeth to the Strait-of-the-Cross—the only way (as we have been often told) by which we can hope to escape from all these troubles. Now we have lost sight of it and may never find it again.”
“Then,” replied Feelings, who was more overcome than any one, “we had better send up signals of distress, and cry for help as we were told to do at the light ship: seeing we are so utterly helpless and have neither strength nor the slightest ability to move in the right direction.”
To this proposal we all readily responded with a loud and earnest cry to Heaven for assistance, and Mr. Heart, for the first time in his life tried to pray, though all he could utter was, “Mercy, help O Lord!” to which Conscience added a deep “Amen.”
Almost immediately after we had thus cried, the rocky prominence we had lost sight of began (much to our relief) to loom up through the darkness, and at times became plainly visible as the lightnings flashed upon it. But now for the first time since we started on our voyage, we began to realize fully that we had no power whatsoever to move forward, or indeed to do anything to help ourselves.
When thus brought to see our state of complete impotence, and the end of ourselves and all our resources—for we could do nothing but hoist our sails and continue to cry for assistance—the kindly winds of heaven suddenly veered round in our favor, and we were quickly borne forward, and thus enabled to pass round the point for which we were making, though much terrified by the blackness and the awful thunderings and lightnings. The moment we gained the lee side of the dark headland—while still sending up our signals of distress—a lifeboat shot out to our rescue, and a line was instantly thrown out to us. A strong voice shouted to us to hold fast for our lives. Eagerly we grasped the proffered line, and held as firmly thereto as we were able, but with much fear and trembling.