through the abdomen; this man, through the shoulder. An officer came
along and offered Creedan a mouthful of water, but he refused, saying
he was all in, but that he wanted to send a message to his chum, and
this is the message he gave to the man who had threatened to punch my
head:

"Tell Irvine the anchor holds!"

I was moved, of course, by the recital of this story; so was the man
who told it.

"What in 'ell did 'e mean by th' anchor 'oldin'?" the man asked.

"Old man," I said, "I had been trying for a long time to lead Creedan
to a religious life, and the story you tell is the only evidence that
I ever had that he took me seriously."

The man looked as if he were going to weep, and in a quivering voice
he asked if I could help him. He was going home to marry a maiden in
Kent whom he described as "a pure good girl." He felt unworthy, for he
was a gambler and a periodical drunkard, and he thought that if a man
like Creedan could be helped, he could.

I struck the iron while it was hot, and said: "There is a good deal to
be done for you, but you have to do it yourself! If you've got the
grit in you to face these fellows and make a confession of religion
right here and now, I will guarantee to you that you'll land on the
shores of England a new man."

He looked at me for a moment with a stern, hard face, then he said: