Chapter Nine
A Strange Night
WHEN Norman Forester was left alone, he set himself first of all to do what he could for the old man's comfort. He shook up the dirty cushion and pillows with which he was propped up, and with his careful hands moved him gently into an easier position and straightened the ragged blanket which was his only covering. He found a kettle on the hearth, black with the soot of ages, and seeing a can of water standing near he poured some in and boiled it on the fire.
He sponged the sick man's face and hands, which were covered with the grime of weeks of neglect, using his own pocket handkerchief as a sponge, and drying them on a cloth hanging on a nail in the door. Then he washed out one of the dirty cups, dried it by the fire, and seeing some milk in a jug he warmed it in a small saucepan, which he also had to clean before using, and gave it gently and slowly, a spoonful at a time, to the old man.
The warm milk revived him, and when he had finished it he spoke to Forester for the first time. "Say a prayer," he said.
Forester recoiled. He had never prayed with anyone in his life. He did not answer for a moment, and again the old man addressed him. "Do say a prayer," he pleaded.
Once more Forester devoutly wished that he were Jack. Jack would have known exactly what to say, and how to comfort the dying man in his time of need. But he -- what could he do? Then a prayer that his mother had taught him years ago as a child flashed into his mind, and bending over the old man he repeated slowly, "God be merciful to me a sinner."
"To me a sinner," said the sick man. "To me a sinner."
Soon after this the man seemed to breathe more quietly. Forester glanced at him and saw that he was fast asleep. Then he sat down to rest, tired with his long tramp in the wind and the rain. The air of the room was close and stifling, but he dare not open the window, for the cottage faced the sea, and the wind had become a fearful hurricane. It seemed sometimes as if the window would be blown in, and the howling in the chimney was frightful.
Forester went quietly into a small outhouse, found a little coal and threw it on the fire which was fast dying out. Then he tried to think of all manner of things to make the time pass quickly. It seemed like a horrible dream, to be sitting in this strange and dirty place in the middle of the night. And the wildness of the weather added to the weirdness of the situation. He could hear, whenever the wind lulled for a moment, great waves beating on the rocks close by. He wondered if they ever came as far as the cottage. It seemed to him sometimes as if he were on board ship, at the mercy of wind and tide.
What a long night it was. Would it never be morning? The old man still slept. As Forester bent over him from time to time, he wondered if he would awake feeling better and easier. He thought of the whisper he had overheard, which seemed to imply the existence of some secret which was not to be told.
What could it be that the son was so anxious that the father should not tell? Probably they were poachers or smugglers, and were afraid of their doings being brought to light. The woods were enclosed with wire and there seemed to be a good staff of gamekeepers, and surely, with a coastguard station close by, smuggling would not be easy.
Just then the fire, which had begun to revive, shot up a bright flame, and by its light Forester saw something sparkle underneath the old sofa. A pair of scissors perhaps. The flame died down and he could see nothing, but he felt about with his hand on the ground underneath the couch and came upon a hard object lying against one of the legs. He picked it up and brought it to the fire to examine it.
To his astonishment he found it was a small golden crucifix -- at least it looked like gold, though he argued with himself that possibly it was only gilded. Yet it was a strange thing to find there. Could the old man and his son be Catholics, he wondered? And supposing they were, why did they not take more care of their crucifix? He laid it on the table, but picked it up several times after that and examined it in the firelight.
The longer he looked at it, the more convinced he felt that it was made of solid gold. He also noticed that the figure of Christ on the cross was beautifully carved and bore evidence of skilful workmanship. He marvelled more and more that such a costly thing should have found its way into that forlorn cottage by the sea.
A short time after this the doctor was startled by hearing a whistle outside. Was it the wind in the chimney? No, he was sure it was a human whistle, and it was repeated several times. The old man was still sleeping, and he was unwilling to disturb him by moving across the room. But when the whistle was followed by a knock at the door, he decided to go to it and see who was outside.
Opening the door only a little way because of the violence of the wind, Forester peered out into the darkness. At first could see no one. But when his eyes were more accustomed to the dim light he could just distinguish the figure of a man standing by the gate. He seemed to be wearing a long coat which came down to his boots. The collar was turned up, and a cap was drawn tightly down over his eyes. Forester could not see his face. It was too dark for that.
"Let me in, Daniel, quick!" the man said.
"Daniel has gone to fetch the doctor for his father," said Forester. "The old man is very ill. What do you want?"
"Oh, nothing of consequence," said the man curtly. "Goodnight." And in another moment he was gone.
Forester went back to his place by the fire considerably puzzled. Where had he heard that voice before? He tried to remember, but he tried in vain. Perhaps it reminded him of someone with whom he had travelled. Or was it like the voice of some patient of his in London? Voices were often somewhat similar, so there was really nothing remarkable about that. But it did strike him as strange that a visitor would come to that cottage on the shore on a matter of no consequence in the middle of the night, especially on such a wild night as this.
At length the weary hours passed by and it began to get light. Now he could look out of the window and see a little of his surroundings. Far in front of him stretched the sea, covered with white horses rearing their heads in the wind. The tide was going out, and the rocky shore was strewn with masses of seaweed which had been brought up by the storm.
Presently the old man awoke and began to groan again. Forester raked together the fire, heated some milk, and gave it to him as before. Then he felt the man's pulse, and found it more rapid and feeble than the night before.
The rain had stopped and the sun was shining brightly when he heard the welcome sound of footsteps. Daniel was returning at last. He came in alone with the same surly expression he had worn the night before.
"Well, what about the doctor?" Forester asked.
"Oh, the doctor. He's going to ride over after breakfast, he says. He doesn't hurry his self, doesn't doctor."
"Then I'll go back now," said Forester. "I've just given your father some milk. Give him some more in about an hour if he's awake. By the bye, I picked this up under your sofa last night. I saw it shine in the firelight. You should take more care of your valuables, and not leave them lying on the floor."
The man looked at him with his rat-like eyes, as if he would read his thoughts, and then said carelessly, as he took up the gold crucifix: "Oh, that old thing. It must have tumbled down. It belonged to my mother. She brought it from old Ireland with her. She was an Irish Catholic, was my mother."
Forester was thankful to get out of the stifling atmosphere of the dirty cottage and return to his tent. He had some difficulty in finding his way. He discovered, however, that he was in the quiet little cove of which old Mr. Norris had told him, and after making his way to the top of the rugged path which led down to it he found himself on the road to Hildick. It was nearly seven o'clock when he reached his tent, and decided it was too late to go to bed again. They would be expecting him on the shore to bathe, and would be interested to hear of his night's adventure.
So he got his towel and ran down the hill to wash off the dirty, smoky atmosphere of the cottage which, in his fancy, still clung to him. There was no swimming to be done out in the
bay that morning, for the sea was far too rough, and the bathe close to the shore was soon over. Forester went to the Bank for breakfast with the Mainwarings as usual, and on the way there told Jack and Don of the strange night he had spent.
"I think I had better go and see that old man," said Jack.
"Yes, do. He wanted me to pray with him in the night, but that's more in your line than mine."
"We'll walk over together after dinner, if you like."
Forester agreed, and that afternoon the two friends crossed the headland, and managed to find the short way across the fields by which the doctor's surly guide had taken him the night before. When they reached the cottage they found the door a little way open and walked in.
Daniel was lying asleep on the old couch with his empty pipe in his mouth. The fire had burned low, and the place looked even more desolate than the night before. The old man was watching as they went in, and seemed pleased to see Forester.
"Well, did the doctor come?"
"Yes, he came, and he gave me some'at to ease the pain like."
"What did he say?"
"Said as he couldn't do naught much for me. Said I was too far through." His breathing was bad, and the words came with difficulty.
"I've brought my friend here to see you," said Forester.
"Who be you?" asked the old man.
"I'm looking after the parish here for your vicar," said Jack." I thought perhaps you would like me to come and see you."
"Parson, be you?"
"Yes."
The old man pointed at the couch. "Hush, don't wake him. Daniel can't abide parsons. But I'm glad you've come. I want..."
A fit of coughing stopped him speaking, and this brought on the pain so badly that for some moments nothing more could be said. But Forester's gentle hands applied the liniment which the local doctor had brought with him to the place where the pain was most acute. After a time the old man was easier.
"Have you come to pray with me?" the old man asked. "He did in the night," pointing to Forester. "I haven't forgot your prayer, master. 'God be merciful to me a sinner.'"
Jack turned to Forester. Forester glanced shyly at him, and then walked to the window and stood with his back to the bed, looking out at the sea.
"That's a beautiful prayer," said Jack to the man on the couch. "Have you said it for yourself?"
"Ay, many a time last night. 'God be merciful to me a sinner.' Yes, and I am a sinner. I know that, a great sinner."
"But, thank God, there is a great Savoir for you," said Jack in his cheery voice. "You say you are a great sinner. Well, God must punish sin. Do you know that? God can't just forgive you and let bygones be bygones, and take no further notice of your sins. That wouldn't be just. But God loved you so much that He let His dear Son be punished instead of you."
"Ay, He died on the cross, didn't He?"
"Yes, for you."
"Was it for me?" The old man's voice faltered. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, absolutely sure."
"Then what have I got to do?"
"Thank Him," said Jack.
"Thank Him?"
"Yes, tell Him you are a great sinner, and thank Him for dying instead of you, and ask Him to be your own Savoir."
"Will you ask Him?"
"Yes, I'll ask Him. But that isn't enough. You must ask Him yourself. Would you like to ask Him now?"
Very simple was the short prayer that followed, asking the Lord Jesus Christ to forgive him and be his Savoir. Jack knelt by the bed. Forester stayed looking out of the window as the old man in a feeble voice repeated sentence by sentence the words of the prayer.
They were just leaving the cottage when Daniel woke and glared at them both. "Oh, it's Doctor Forester," he said. "Well, you needn't come anymore now. We've got the doctor from over yonder in attendance, and it'll be all right about the inkwitch."
"Do you know what you're saying?" said Forester sharply. "Don't let your poor old father hear you talk like that!"
"I like to see 'em, Daniel," said the old man.
"Well, maybe you do," Daniel said, "but all the same, there's nothing more to be done now. So you young gents may as well go and enjoy yourselves on the shore. Good afternoon to you both."
"A surly chap, that," said Jack, "and a villain too, I would imagine. I wonder who they are."
They went into the castle to see old Mr. Norris on their way back, and told him where they had been, and asked him if he knew anything of the two men in the cottage by the shore. He said that he had seen them once or twice when they had passed by the gate, but they had not been long in the neighbourhood. They came, he understood, from somewhere up north, and they had come to the bay for crab-fishing. Old Maxie had been involved in many a tussle with them over it, for Maxie looked on all the crabs in the sea as his private property. They had made no friends in Hildick, and the village people looked on them with suspicion and distrust. More than that he could not tell them -- and he did not think that anyone in the place knew anything more about them.