Master Rockafellar's Voyage by W. Clark Russell

There is no sentiment at sea, and if you come off with your life no matter how narrowly, that is enough for _you_. You are not expected to speak of the close shave, unless with a grin of indifference. Let your shipmates believe that you view it seriously, and they will set you down for a swab, a lady sailor, a longshoreman. This arises from an overstrained sense of manliness; yet it is true, nevertheless, that no genuine seaman will ever care to make anything of an accident, though no more than an inch of space or a single moment of time stand between him and a horrible end. However, that night, when I was in my bunk, and my messmates asleep, I got upon my knees in my bed, and, with tears and sobs, thanked my Heavenly Father for His preservation of me. I was very heavy when I first laid me down, but I kept myself awake that I might lift up my young heart in gratitude, and pray for a continuance of God's mercy; and when I put my head again on the bolster, there was just such a sense of peace and happiness in me as would have come had my mother stood by my bedside and kissed me.

For four days the mate was off duty, and it was feared that he would lose his sight, but to the general satisfaction of all hands-for he was an excellent seaman, a kind-hearted man, and popular fore and aft-he made his appearance on deck on the morning of the fifth day with a shade over his eyes, and by the end of the week his old power of vision was perfectly restored to him.