I bitterly turned over in my mind the facts of our situation; "ours,"
for, as a just punishment of my remissness, I was in the same quandary as
a drunken, dissipated sailor before the mast.

If William had but possessed a sweet and tuneful voice (often a gift
found in the most depraved natures), and if I had been able to borrow a
harmonium on wheels, I would not, even now, have despaired of converting
the whole island in the course of the week. As remarkable feats have
been performed, with equal alacrity, by precious Messrs. Moody and
Sankey, and I am informed that expeditious conversions are by no means
infrequent among politicians. But it was vain to think of this resource,
as William had no voice, and knew no hymns, while I had no means of
access to a perambulating harmonium.

"I'll tell you what it is, sir," said Bludger; "I have a notion."

"Name it, William," I replied, my heart and manner softened by community
in suffering and terror.

"Well, if I were you, sir, I would not go home to-night at all; I'd stop
where you are. The beggars won't find you, let them hunt as they like;
they daren't come near this place, bless you, it's an 'Arnt;" by which he
meant that it was haunted.

"Well," said I, "but how should we be any better off to-morrow morning?"

"That's just it, sir," said Bludger. "We'll be up with the first stroke
of dawn, nip down to the harbour, get on board a boat, and be off before
any of them are stirring."