IN July 1886 a friend kindly placed at our disposal, and pressed us for a few weeks to occupy, his airy sea-side house at D —, a summer resort, the salt breezes of which have but to be known to be enjoyed. Assuredly gathering that the Lord had some work for us there, we went, reaching our quarters one Friday afternoon. The same evening the Corn Exchange, a good-sized building, was secured for a Gospel meeting on the following Lord’s Day evening, and a little handbill issued announcing the subject, which ran thus: ― “Saved at the bottom; or, a lesson among the weeds. A true tale, and a salt word for sailors and landsmen.”
This arranged, I got down to the harbor, inquiring among the many fisher folk who loitered there if any one possessed a boat in which some of my party could―weather permitting―have a sail on the morrow. A weather-beaten old tar, to whom I spoke first, assured me that no craft suitable for the purpose was kept there, and then suddenly turning, shouted, “Sandy, Sandy, come here.”
“Who is Sandy?” said I.
“Oh, Sandy H―. He’s got a tidy little fishing yawl, perhaps he can accommodate you.” Thus called, Sandy, a fair-haired lithesome young fellow of twenty-eight, with a cheery face, who had been standing amongst a group at some distance, came forward, and on hearing what was wanted, expressed his willingness to tidy up his boat and have it ready by four P.M., though fearing it would not be “o’re comfie for the leddies.” He pointed out his boat, a broad-beamed undecked yawl, with the well-known lug-sail so common on the east of Scotland, and assured us she was a grand sea-boat, and like her name the “Golightly.”
Sandy was true to his word, and at the appointed hour was waiting our arrival, with two other men, Andrew H―, his elder brother, and James S —, his brother-in-law, whom we found to be the “Golightly’s” usual crew. Andrew was the skipper, and during our little sail we were all much attracted by his sedate, good-humored, sunburnt face, and stalwart form, as he skillfully managed his boat, which sped gaily along over the white-crested billows which a stiffish breeze produced. Telling the three men of the meeting arranged for the next evening, they readily promised to be present, and to bring some friends, and James S―very simply confessed the Lord Jesus as his Saviour, saying he had known the Lord about a year only.
When we reached land, after a couple of hours of most enjoyable fresh sea-breeze, the three partners engaged to meet us again on the following Tuesday, at the same hour, and renewing their promise to be at the Corn Exchange we bade each other good-night.
The meeting in the Corn Exchange I shall never forget. God had arranged it, and He was there, and that is everything in a Gospel meeting. The place was well filled, and amongst the listeners were our three friends of the “Golightly,” and many others of the simple fisher folk of the place. Jonah’s history (ch. 1 and 2) was before us, and the downward course of this disobedient man traced out. Sent to Nineveh, he “rose up to flee unto Tarshish” (which means destruction). Mercifully he never got there, but he “went down to Joppa” (beautiful); of course found a ship there going where he wanted to go, and so “paid the fare thereof,”―as the sinner pays his own way to hell, ―and “went down into it.” Once on board he takes a third downward step, and is profoundly unconscious of the general danger which the storm that God had sent out threatened, for “Jonah was gone down into the sides of the ship; and he lay, and was fast asleep.” Thus is it with man oftentimes; God speaks, but he hears not.
But God will have Jonah aroused, and “What meanest thou, O sleeper?” rings in his ears, and rang in the ears of the Corn Exchange audience again and again, as the indifferent, the unawakened, the unsaved, the unpardoned, were besought to receive the Gospel. Thoroughly aroused, and probed by the pointed queries, “What is thine occupation? and whence comest thou? what is thy country? and of what people art thou?” Jonah confesses, “I fear Jehovah, the God of heaven, which hath made the sea and the dry land.” This, however, cannot calm the storm; and at length, prompted by a sense of his sin, and at his own request, cast into the sea, he finds himself the object of the special care of God, for “the Lord had prepared a great fish to swallow up Jonah.”
But sin ever brings its own fruit, and the soul that sins must know repentance toward God. “In the belly of the fish three days and three nights,” Jonah passes through deep exercises, and learns wondrous lessons. He prays, he cries, and his soul faints. He gets into “the belly of hell;” floods compass him, billows and waves pass over and the weeds are wrapped about his head. Three downward steps he had taken himself; God conducts him yet lower. “I went down to the bottoms of the mountains,” he says; and then with a sense that all is over,―that he is, as far as human aid is concerned, helplessly, hopelessly lost,―he is brought to the point of real blessing; and having learned that “salvation is of the Lord,” he owns it, and is free on the spot,―reaching dry land in a moment. So the soul that feels and owns its guilty defiled condition, and takes the place of being lost before God, is taught of God that it is an object of His love an mercy, and that “the Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost.” Hence whoever trusts in that blessed Son of Man finds a Saviour, and salvation, on the spot. Many and urgent were the appeals to the unsaved not to defer salvation to tomorrow, as it never comes, for I felt as though some of my hearers might never hear the Gospel again.
The interest was great, and it was quite evident that God’s Spirit was mightily at work among souls; and when we sang the closing hymn, ―
“Salvation without money;
Salvation without price;
Salvation without labor, ―
Believing doth suffice.
Salvation now―this moment!
Then why, oh why, delay?
You may not see tomorrow;
Now is salvation’s day!”
I could not but believe that some were accepting God’s offered grace. Nor in this was I disappointed, as events afterward showed, and some were heard to say as they left the hall, “The man spoke as though we were never to have another chance of being saved.” Prophetic words, indeed, as regards some.
The next day, Monday, was a lovely summer day. The sun shone brightly, fleecy white clouds soared high in the deep blue sky, and the sea was like a millpond, scarce ruffled by a gentle breeze. About three o’clock in the afternoon the “Golightly,” with her wonted crew, and ten other occupants, most of them women, all cheerful, blithe, and eager for work, put out of harbor to go to some not far distant “mussel scalps,” to gather bait for the usual nocturnal fishing expedition. The boat, laden beyond its capacity, for which the calm fair weather might account, had scarcely emerged from the harbor when a sudden and quite unexpected squall struck her. The sheet―the rope attached to the lower and hinder end of the sail―had unfortunately been made fast to a thwart, and, owing to the throng of women, could not be let go. The boat heeled over, filled, and sank, within one hundred yards of shore, carrying her thirteen passengers down with her. Of these four only came to the surface, and help being quickly at hand they were rescued. Among these was James S―. Carried to the bottom, and held there by two women for a time, when they let go he rose, and was picked up. The victims, however, included my friends Andrew and Sandy H―, the former’s wife, their younger brother of seventeen, and a girl cousin of a similar age. Locked in each other’s arms the manly skipper and his youthful wife were shortly after brought to the surface. Parted not in life, thank God, they were not divided in death, as I afterward learned. The others who were drowned were two young men of seventeen and twenty-two years, and two young women aged seventeen. The squall passed by, the sun shone again brightly; but how different the scene it shone on, as one by one the nine lifeless bodies were brought to shore! Oh, the terrible power of death! And what folly can equal that of the sinner who goes on heedless of his soul’s salvation?
There was scarcely a house among the fisher folk not, nearly or remotely, connected with the drowned, and sorrow possessed many a heart to the full, as they mourned the loss of parents, children, brothers, sisters, cousins, or friends and playmates.
The gloom which this painful event cast over the town can easily be imagined, and the sympathy for the stricken and bereaved families was widespread and real. A public funeral took place on the Wednesday, and a sad sight it was, as, carried shoulder high to the old kirkyard, the coffins of the husband and wife, side by side, were followed by the seven others, borne in single file. Thousands attended, and preceded or followed. While a simple service was conducted in the old kirk, the nine wreath-covered coffins, all side by side, ―a sight one could never forget, — rested in the vestibule, and then were borne each to the last resting-place nearby. Over the grave which held Andrew H― and his wife, by the desire of some relations, I read John 5:24-2924Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that heareth my word, and believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation; but is passed from death unto life. 25Verily, verily, I say unto you, The hour is coming, and now is, when the dead shall hear the voice of the Son of God: and they that hear shall live. 26For as the Father hath life in himself; so hath he given to the Son to have life in himself; 27And hath given him authority to execute judgment also, because he is the Son of man. 28Marvel not at this: for the hour is coming, in the which all that are in the graves shall hear his voice, 29And shall come forth; they that have done good, unto the resurrection of life; and they that have done evil, unto the resurrection of damnation. (John 5:24‑29), and spoke of the blessedness of having eternal life. This blessedness the two who were undivided in death had lately been taught to know, and so the saddened hearts that mourned them were comforted.
Of the nine who were thus suddenly cut off, five were at the Sunday evening meeting, two known to be believers in the Lord Jesus. Of the rest, one can only say, God may have spoken to them, and they believed the Gospel, but no one heard them say that they were converted. It is a mistake to put off deciding for Christ till it be too late. “Boast not thyself of tomorrow; for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth” (Prov. 27:11Boast not thyself of to morrow; for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth. (Proverbs 27:1)), is God’s word to every one of us. How solemnly was it illustrated here. Two of the dear men who were to meet me on Tuesday passed into eternity on Monday! So much for man’s proposals.
And now, my dear reader, how is it with you? Are you saved? Are you converted? Are you ready to go? Have you peace with God? Are your sins pardoned, and all washed away in the precious blood of Christ? If not, let me beseech you not to delay one single hour. God may never give you another opportunity of hearing His Gospel. Believe on Jesus now. The work of redemption is finished. The cross is past, the blood of atonement has been shed. God has accepted it; and He will accept you, if you trust the One who shed His blood for poor guilty sinners, as we both are by nature. Come then to Jesus. Come now. Come as you are; and, simply trusting Him, you will be able to say, “Salvation is of the Lord.”
One word more. “Because there is wrath, beware lest he take thee away with his stroke: then a great ransom cannot deliver thee” (Job 36:1818Because there is wrath, beware lest he take thee away with his stroke: then a great ransom cannot deliver thee. (Job 36:18)). “Boast not thyself of tomorrow; for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth.”
W. T. P. W.