Australian Tales - Setis

pulled away to church, singing ‘O be joyful.’ In a short time I was
dashing along ten knots an hour, with a fresh breeze and smooth water,
and a regular fleet of coasters astern of me. But I soon met with bad luck;
for just before sundown it came on to blow one of those hard southerly
bursters, which are so frequent on your coast in the summer months; and
before I could get sail off the ship, I carried away the fore-top gallantmast
and jib-boom, and sprung the main-yard, besides splitting some of
the sails. It blew hard from the southward for three days, and an ugly sea
got up, which strained the ship a good deal, for we were coal-laden, and
as deep as a barge. On the fourth day the wind hawled round to the
eastward, and we lay our course, with fresh breezes and fine weather,
which we carried all the way up to Melbourne heads; so we did not make
such a bad passage after all. On the eighth morning, soon after daybreak
I espied — about three miles ahead — a smart-looking schooner, going
through the ‘Rip’ without a pilot; and sure enough it was my little
church-going friend. In he went, with his colours flying, as if he were
crowing over me; and by the time I got up to the anchorage off
Williamstown, there lay the schooner alongside the jetty, all ready for
discharging cargo. I felt a bit nettled, though I didn't say anything to my
mate, for I could see he was mightily pleased at it. Next day I met the
little skipper, in Sandridge, looking as happy as a boy in his first
breeches. He told me that he had spent a very comfortable Sunday on
shore, and had allowed his officers and crew to go to church too; that he
had lain in port, setting up his rigging and titivating his ship off, (and she
really looked as smart as a new fiddle), until the gale had broken; and as
soon as the sea had gone down a bit, he up anchor and away. He had
beaten every vessel bound to Melbourne, which sailed on the Sunday;
and while several of those he had passed had lost spars and bulwarks, he
did not carry away a ropeyarn, or strain a stick; in fact, he scarcely
shifted a sail throughout the run, but carried a fair wind and fine weather
right up to his moorings.
“That yarn is as true as my chronometer, Mr. Boomerang,” continued
the captain, laying down his pipe. “And when you come to think of it, sir,
it is only reasonable to expect good luck when you are doing what is
right. I mean to say it is not acting fair and square to the sailors, if you
don't give them a day's spell once a week. Poor fellows! they get extra
work enough, in all conscience, especially on board some of those old
leaky colliers, or in the coasting steamers. It is a positive injustice to your
officers and men to make them do unnecessary work on Sundays, to say
nothing of the sin and folly of setting at open defiance the laws of God,
who could blow us all to the bottom of the sea in a minute. As for the
risk of putting to sea on Fridays, that is all moonshine, and I was only
joking when I appeared to be talking seriously on that subject just now. I
would as soon set sail on Friday as on Saturday, every bit; but I verily