There was nothing to spare. He was, indeed, cutting it fine. The seas
were great, and piled up on the rocks of that bad coast were the two
steamers he had sighted the day before.

Why had not the other two masters received the same nudge from
Providence before it was too late? That is what the unfortunate, who
cannot genuinely offer solemn thanks like the lucky, will never know,
though they continually ask. It is the darkest and most unedifying
part of the mystery. Moreover, that side of the question, as a war has
helped us to remember, never troubles the lucky ones. Yet I wish to
add that later, my friend, when in waters not well known, in charge of
a ship on her maiden voyage--for he always got the last and best ship
from his owners, they having recognized that his stars were
well-assorted--was warned that to attempt a certain passage, in some
peculiar circumstances, was what a wise man would not lightly
undertake. But my friend was young, daring, clever, and fortunate.
That morning his cap was _not_ on the floor. At night his valuable
ship with her exceptionally valuable cargo was fast for ever on a coral
reef.

What did that prove? Apart from the fact that if the young reject the
experience of their elders they may regret it, just as they may regret
if they do pay heed to it, his later misfortune proves nothing; except,
perhaps, that the last thing on which a man should rely, unless he
must, is the supposed favour of the gods of whom he knows nothing but,
say, a cap unreasonably on the floor; yet gods, nevertheless, whose
existence even the wise and dubious cannot flatly deny.

It may have been for a reason of such a sort that I did not lend my
book to my young sailor friend who wished to borrow it. I should never