The doctor answered, "Our Crime."

They shuddered, and all cried out,--

"Amen."

The doctor standing up, pale, raised his hand to heaven, saying,--

"Kneel down."

They wavered--to waver is the preface to kneeling down.

The doctor went on,--

"Let us throw our crimes into the sea, they weigh us down; it is they
that are sinking the ship. Let us think no more of safety--let us think
of salvation. Our last crime, above all, the crime which we committed,
or rather completed, just now--O wretched beings who are listening to
me--it is that which is overwhelming us. For those who leave intended
murder behind them, it is an impious insolence to tempt the abyss. He
who sins against a child, sins against God. True, we were obliged to put
to sea, but it was certain perdition. The storm, warned by the shadow of
our crime, came on. It is well. Regret nothing, however. There, not far
off in the darkness, are the sands of Vauville and Cape la Hogue. It is
France. There was but one possible shelter for us, which was Spain.
France is no less dangerous to us than England. Our deliverance from the
sea would have led but to the gibbet. Hanged or drowned--we had no
alternative. God has chosen for us; let us give Him thanks. He has
vouchsafed us the grave which cleanses. Brethren, the inevitable hand is
in it. Remember that it was we who just now did our best to send on high