Not a ripple was stirring, nor a ghost of a breath of
wind, but the two ships were several miles nearer, and evidently
approaching, though their relative position was somewhat different.
She was slowly drifting on one current, and we as slowly on another
diagonally across her track. The stranger was a large Clyde-built
ship, and carried far more canvas than was necessary in a calm, but I
thought she might be drying her sails. I was waiting for her to get
within hail, but her captain anticipated me and hailed first.
"'Ship ahoy!' came over the water, 'What ship is that?'
"The Ariadne, Alford master, from Cape Town for Portsmouth. What ship
is that?' I replied.
"'The Ellen, Alford master, from Liverpool for Cape Town. Will send a
boat aboard with letters for home.'
"The coincidence of names had evidently not been noticed, or produced
no impression. But I saw it all in a moment, and I had to grasp the
mizzen-backstay to keep from falling. My brother John, whom I had not
seen or heard from for nearly fifteen years, had drifted across my way
on the vast and pathless ocean! Ah, how often since have I asked
myself if a Providence _could_ be clearer--if this, with all its
consequences to my after-life, could have been had not He who keepeth
the winds as His treasures and measures the oceans in the hollow of
His hand so ordered it for the furtherance of His own wise and
beneficent will! Not a thought of anger toward my brother crossed my
mind--not a solitary harsh memory of the past.
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