The other men laughed and I moved away, excusing myself as I departed; but before I was out of hearing, one of the men addressed the speaker and said: 

“Don’t be too sure of what you could do to that fellow Irvine—­his looks belie him.  He’s got more steam in his elbow than you have.”

That was all I heard, but as I was looking over the side a minute or two later, a hand was laid on my shoulder.  I looked around.  It was the man who had threatened me.

“Say, pal,” he said, “I didn’t mean no ’arm.  These ’ere blokes tell me as yer name’s Irvine.  Is that so?” I nodded an assent.  “Did yer ever ’ave a chum ’oose name was Creedan?” Again I nodded assent.  “D’ye know what became ov ’im?”

“He was missing on the field,” I replied.

“’E’s dead,” said the man.

Then he described to me the last moments of my friend.  It appeared that Creedan and this man fell together on the field, Creedan shot 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: 

“By God, I’ll do it!” There was no profanity in this assertion.  It was the strongest way he could put it; and we dropped on our knees on the deck and began to pray.  In a minute or two half a dozen others joined us.  Then it seemed as if everybody around us was on his knees; and then, when I felt the atmosphere of the crowd and the reverence of it, I called on others to pray; half a dozen others responded, and then this man, above the roar of the wind through the sails and the creaking of the boats’ davits, prayed to God to make him a new man.

Creedan had been drafted from the ship in a detachment for the front, and when we met on the desert, we entered into a compact which stipulated that if either of us fell on the field of battle, the survivor was to take charge of the deceased’s effects, and visit his people.