Sunrise

by Grace Livingston Hill

  Chapter 19

  The little boat drifted for two long days, and the two boys had given up hope of rescue. Their food and water was almost gone, and they were trying to face starvation bravely.

  There were the same waves tossing then about, waves that made any idea of navigation impossible, although they tried from time to time, only to have the oars slapped back at them as if the sea would have no trifling thing like that to interfere with its motion. It seemed that they were hemmed in on every side by dark green water. The wonder was that their frail lifeboat stood the strain of the constant battering.

  Occasionally one wave higher than the rest curled over them and drenched them, and they had to bail out.

  “I wonder why we keep on doing this?” said Jason wearily as he bent to the task again after an especially large avalanche of water. “I wonder why we don’t just let it go ahead and sink. Sooner or later the end will come, and why not let it be sooner?”

  “Now, brother, you know better than that!” said Rowan with a weary smile. “We’re bound to do all we can for that witness we’ve got to give at home, in case God wants that.”

  “Yes, I know,” said Jason, “but somehow it seems so useless!”

  Then the next morning they woke to find the sun shining and the sea as calm as a summer morning! Like a miracle a new word had dawned, or else during the night they had drifted into a different region. And there on the edge of a pearly colored dawn they saw a phantom ship.

  It was only a sailing vessel bearing a load of rubber, but it hung on the water like a dream of home and mother.

  Frantically the two picked up their oars and fell to rowing with all their might, not quite sure if was a mirage but determined, if there was any chance that it was real, to reach it before it vanished into other seas.

  Anxiously they watched, and their hearts bounded with joy when they saw that they were actually making some progress toward it.

  A little later a small boat detached itself from the larger one and started toward them, and then they set up a shout of joy and bent to their oars in earnest.

  It was almost like getting to the outer vestibule of heaven to be taken on board that clean boat. It wasn’t much as a boat, but it was clean, and there were friendly faces on board and smiles, even if they were rough men. And there was food and warm clothing given freely, with good will.

  Oh, they presently found out, when they were rested and refreshed, that it was a very slow sailing boat indeed, and it might still be weeks before it landed in the native land, but they were on their way! And there was nothing mysterious about this ship. Everything was hearty and aboveboard.

  It was little they could tell about how they came to be adrift. Their knowledge was all suspicion. But the men who rescued them were simple, incurious people and took them frankly at their own representation, that they had been on a wreck and were set adrift in a lifeboat from another ship that evidently had come up to offer help while they were sleeping from exhaustion. They did not know even the name of their own boat. They did not know their location and they had drifted perhaps a long way from the wreck. What use to say more?

  So they worked and helped to pay their passage, and in due time they did arrive at a port in their native land.

  Rowan and Jason had little money left of the small sums they had taken with them, and they were dressed in ill-fitting garments that the friendly crew of the rescue ship had given them to replace the rags they had been wearing, but they felt happier than they had ever been in their lives as they set foot on their native land.

  They worked a day on the wharf helping to unload the ship and earned enough for railroad fare to the city not far from their home. They could walk it from there if some friendly car didn’t pick them up. So they started on their way.

  But when they reached that city so near home, they grew suddenly shy. The long months that stretched between their going and their coming might have wrought changes!

  “And we mustn’t frighten Mother!” said Rowan.

  So they used their last dime to telephone.

  Hannah was sitting in her dining room reading her Bible when she heard the ring. By common consent it had been the Parsons’ number and not the Whitney one they had called up. Hannah’s hand trembled as it always did these days when she took down the receiver. Would this be some word about Myra? Or—?

  “Yes?” she said alertly, anxiously.

  “Mother!” said Rowan. “Oh! Mother!”

  “Rowan! Oh, my dear boy! At last I hear your voice!” Hannah wanted to shout. She wanted to cry and to laugh.

  “Yes, Mother. I’m on my way. We’ll be there in about two hours. Tell Joyce I’m bringing Jason. It’s been longer than I thought, but we’re almost there now!”

  “I’ll tell her!” lilted Hannah. “Come straight here. I’ll tell Joyce to come over. Her father is sick, and it’s better for you to come here first!”

  “Yes, that’s what we’d planned to do. But, sick! I’m sorry! Oh, Mother, are you and Father all right?”

  Hannah hesitated and there were tears in her voice as she answered. “Yes, dear, both—all right—but—Father’s gone Home!”

  “Gone Home?” said Rowan. “You mean. . . ?” His voice trailed off and stopped.

  “Yes, Rowan. He’s gone Home! God called him. But it’s all right. He left a message for you. He believed in you! He said he would see you in the Morning!”

  The boys tramped on through the bright home country that was just beginning to show signs of spring, and it was all good to weary sea-fed eyes. But they did not laugh and joke now. For the father of one was sick and the father of the other had gone Home.

  Back in the farmhouse, Hannah hung up the receiver and stood looking up.

  “Oh, God,” she said, “thank You! Thank You!”

  Then she took down the receiver and tried to make her voice steady as she called the Whitney number.

  “Is that you, Joyce? Well, can you come over a little while? Can you be spared?”

  “Now?” said Joyce. “Yes, I can come. Has—anything—happened?”

  “Nothing bad, dear,” said Hannah. “I’ll tell you when you come.”

  So Joyce was there when finally they came walking in. She hid in the parlor until Hannah had taken her son in her arms.

  And then from that long embrace Rowan stood back and his eager eyes searched the room.

  “Joyce! Isn’t she here?”

  Joyce came rosily out from her hiding, and then to her utter and sweet confusion she was folded close in Rowan’s arms, and his lips were upon hers.

  “I’ve brought him back, dear!” said Rowan, lifting his head and looking down into her face, thrilling with the dearness of her. “I’ve brought your brother back. It took longer than I thought, but we’re here.”

  Then Jason gave his sister a bear hug and a resounding kiss, and Hannah had her boy again, his arms around her this time, his sorrow for his father’s absence in his gaze.

  They sat down around a little supper that Hannah had prepared, and Hannah told them about the last words of Charles and the glory that was to come in the Morning.

  She told it simply, shyly, not sure what the response would be, but she was almost overpowered with the light that came in the faces of both the wanderers.

  “Oh, but Mother, that’s wonderful!” said Rowan. “And you don’t know our best news yet. We’ve both come to know the Lord, yours and Father’s Lord! We had to be sent to the other side of the world to learn because we wouldn’t learn from our own Christian folks at home.”

  Hannah’s eyes were suddenly alight with a more than earthly radiance.

  “Oh, my boy!” she said. Then turning to Jason she said, with a smile, “My boys!”

  She got up and came around and kissed them both, and then folding her arms around Rowan again she said, “It’s just as Father said it would be. He said God had taken you somewhere to draw you nearer to Him. He said it was going to be all right!”

  A few mi
nutes later, Joyce and Jason went across the meadows to their home, walking hand in hand, Joyce telling of their father’s illness, having more sweet sisterly converse with Jason than she had had in many a year. Not since they were children had they been so close.

  As they approached the house, Jason said, “Joyce, do you know anything about Rose Allison? Is she—” he hesitated for words and Joyce broke in joyously.

  “Yes, I know about Rose! She’s my dearest friend! She’s sweet. We’ve been together a lot all winter. She’s sweet, Jason, and she’ll be so glad about you. She’s been praying for you every day. She came and told me, when she heard all the things people were saying, how you had telephoned her.”

  Jason’s hand tightened on his sister’s arm as he helped her up the steps. “What do you mean, all the things people were saying?”

  “Oh, you don’t know, do you? But it doesn’t matter anymore. There was a bank robbery the night you went away. The Rowleys were at the head of it, and they tried to connect you and Rowan, too, with it for a while, but it’s a long story and we haven’t time for it now. Only it was that that brought Rose to tell me, and it was sweet of her. I should have gone crazy thinking maybe they had kidnaped you or something, only she told me you had gone away because you couldn’t get a square deal here, and she set my mind at rest about—you both!” she ended shyly.

  Jason stooped down and kissed his sister almost reverently.

  “Rowan told me about you and him,” he said gently. “One night when we thought we were going to die pretty soon. But that’s a long story, too, that will wait. He told me, and I’m glad! He’s great. It will be wonderful!”

  Joyce was startled, covered in wonder!

  “Rowan told you about us!” she said. “But there wasn’t anything to tell—not that he knew—nor that I knew!” She laughed. “That is—he only kissed me good-bye!”

  “I know,” said Jason gently, “he told me. He wanted me to tell you in case I got home and he didn’t; he wanted me to tell you he loved you!”

  “Oh!” said Joyce softly.

  Presently they went up the stairs together, arms around each other, reunited as they had never been united before Jason went away.

  Joyce slipped into the room first while Jason waited outside the door.

  “Father dear,” said Joyce, going up to the bed quietly, “Jason has come home! Would you like to see him?”

  She watched his face eagerly. Would he understand?

  But she was not prepared for the great light that came into his eyes. And suddenly the lips that had been silent all those months, silent and twisted, untwisted themselves and spoke.

  “Jason!” he said. “Jason!”

  Oh, it was not his old forceful speech. It was a halting, lisping attempt, but Jason understood it and came close at once.

  “Father! Dear Father!” he said, bending down and kissing his father. He had not done that since he was a little child. And the poor twisted face suddenly assumed a look of radiant peace, the hands that had been so rigid and gnarled relaxed in Jason’s strong ones, and the demon that had held the man’s body in its tense grasp so many months began to let go its hold. The nurse and Joyce stood looking on in wonder, and then the nurse hastened away to telephone the doctor. The doctor said his patient must have immediate rest and quiet and he would come at once. So Jason kissed his father again, bringing a faint shadow of a smile to the stiff features, and he and Joyce went out. “See you in the morning, Dad,” Jason said, waving in his old dear way. And then the sick man closed his eyes and there came a look of peace upon that tempestuous old face. It was as if the sunlight had suddenly touched a mountainside where storms and tempest had long been raging.

  “I’m going to Rose,” said Jason with a light in his eyes. “Do you think I could?”

  “Yes, go,” said Joyce, her face all joy.

  So Jason went down the hill to the village and down the street until he came to the church.

  But there he saw the church was lit and the little parsonage next door was dark. He remembered it was Wednesday night. The door was open and many people were inside. Rose would be there! It was another meeting, and he would keep his promise to her now and go to the meeting.

  So he slipped into the open door and took a back seat. Presently he spied her.

  She was sitting near the front with her mother, and the dress she wore now was blue, the color of her eyes. He feasted his glance upon her sweet face. They were singing a hymn, and he watched her lips as they sang. Sweet lips! Would he ever dare to lay his upon them as he had reverently dreamed way off there on the sea?

  The meeting went on and they were calling for testimonies. There was a silence. Nobody spoke. Then suddenly Jason rose to his feet.

  “Friends, I want to testify what the Lord has done for me!” The congregation stirred and turned and stared in astonishment. Jason Whitney! He had come back, and he was testifying in a meeting! A miracle was happening in their midst! They listened and thrilled to his words. Rose sat beside her mother, trembling with joy and trying not to look as if she had ever heard of him before. Jason! Her Jason! He had kept his promise and come! Her prayers were answered. And she mustn’t show people she cared!

  But nobody was looking at Rose, not even her father, who knew. They were all looking at a new Jason with a clear ringing voice.

  “I went away from this town out of sorts and bitter at the world. I was angry at God and I didn’t care where I went. I went aboard the first ship I could find sailing from New York and found it an awful place of dirt and filth and vermin and sin. But there was a man aboard that knew God, and he taught me about my sin and my Savior. I had to go to the ends of the earth and endure hardship and peril and come near to death. Our ship was wrecked and were in a little open boat for three days and nights alone in a tempestuous sea. Rowan Parsons was with me, my friend! He came after me and got there too late to save himself from that awful voyage. But God was with us every minute of the time, and He was precious. I’m glad I had to suffer now, because there probably wouldn’t have been any other way for me to get to know Jesus Christ. He saved me and let me come home to testify what a difference He has made in my life. I’m glad for this chance to tell you right at the start. I’m trusting in His power and grace to keep me, for there is nothing in myself to do it. I hope you’ll pray for me.”

  The minister could just control his voice to start a song: “Praise God from Whom All Blessings Flow,” and the congregation were so stirred they sang as they never had sung before.

  They gathered around Jason at the close and greeted him with so much true Christian fervor that he was embarrassed. He had not known his fellow townsmen could be like this. He grew shy, and as soon as he could he hunted up Rose and they slipped away.

  “Rose,” he said when they were alone on the street, “Rose, I love you. Perhaps it’s too soon to tell you so. But you don’t know what you did for me, telling me you would believe me. Telling me you cared. I’ve kept you with me all the way of that awful journey, and sometimes if it hadn’t been for you I’d have died. Until I knew the Lord, you were the only thing that there was in the world to care for, you and my sister, Joyce. Are you angry with me, Rose, for talking like this? I know I ought to wait and be more decorous about it. But it’s so good to see you. You won’t be angry with me for telling you this? I’ll wait as long as you want me to, if I’ve been wrong, but I had to let you know what you are to me!”

  He looked down at her anxiously, and she looked up, her face luminous with joy.

  “No, I’ll not be angry, Jason,” she said with a lilt in her voice, “because, you see, I care. And now that you belong to my Lord Jesus, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t tell me.”

  They were walking along the street near the parsonage. Maple trees were just coming into full leaf, and the moonlight was sifting in lacy patterns on the pavement. Suddenly Jason drew her to him and, holding her close, kissed her again and again!

  And the people were coming awa
y from the church!

  “My! I was embarrassed!” said sweet little old Miss Pettibone guardedly, as she told her sister about it when she got home. “But, my dear, it was sweet! Those two dear children!”

  The sister sat grimly listening, melted in spite of herself, and finally said, “Well, I think they might have waited until they got into the house!”

  “Then I wouldn’t have seen it,” chirped Pricilla, “and it was so sweet!”

  Back at the Parsons’ farmhouse the fire glowed bright on the hearth that night. Rowan and his mother and Joyce had been having a beautiful hour together, and Hannah had been telling them again all about Charles’s last words and the glory that was to be in the morning. Then they knelt together in the firelight, hand in hand, the three of them, Hannah on one side of Rowan and Joyce on the other, while Rowan prayed.

  “Lord, we thank Thee for the hope that Thou hast given us of that glory in the great morning. Ours to look forward to, our sunrise! The glory of the Lord.”

  About the Author

  GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL (1865–1947) is known as the pioneer of Christian romance. Grace wrote over one hundred faith-inspired books during her lifetime. When her first husband died, leaving her with two daughters to raise, writing became a way to make a living, but she always recognized storytelling as a way to share her faith in God. She has touched countless lives through the years and continues to touch lives today. Her books feature moving stories, delightful characters, and love in its purest form.

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