Part 3 (1/2)

”I'm trying to find out who he is,” I said. ”Perhaps there may be papers.”

As I said this I felt something in the breast-pocket of his jacket, and drew it forth. It was a leather pocket-book, mouldy and rotten like the clothing. On opening it, it fell to pieces. There was nothing in it but a piece of paper, also mouldy and rotten. This I unfolded with great care, and saw writing there, which, though faded, was still legible. It was a letter, and there were still signs of long and frequent perusals, and marks, too, which looked as though made by tears--tears, perhaps of the writer, perhaps of the reader: who can tell? I have preserved this letter ever since, and I now fasten it here upon this sheet of my ma.n.u.script.

THE LETTER.

”Bristol April 20. 1820.

”my darling tom

”i writ you these few lines in hast i don like youar gon a walen an in the south sea dont go darlin tom or mebbe ill never se you agin for ave bad drems of you darlin tom an im afraid so don go my darlin tom but come back an take anoth s.h.i.+p for America baby i as wel as ever but mises is pa an as got a new tooth an i think yo otnt go a walen o darlin tom * * * sea as the wages was i in New York an better go thar an id like to go ther for good for they gives good wages in America. O come back my Darlin tom and take me to America an the baby an weel all live an love an di together

”Your loving wife Polley Reed.”

I began to read this, but there came a lump in my throat, and I had to stop. Agnew leaned on my shoulder, and we both read it in silence. He rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes and drew a long breath. Then he walked away for a little distance, and I put the letter carefully away in my own pocket-book. After a little while Agnew came back.

”More,” said he, ”do you remember any of the burial-service?”

I understood his meaning at once.

”Yes,” I said, ”some of it--a good deal of it, I think.”

”That's good,” said he. ”Let's put the poor fellow under ground.”

”It would be hard to do that,” I said; ”we'll have to bury him in the snow.”

At this Agnew went off for a little distance and clambered over the rocks. He was not gone long. When he returned he said, ”I've found some crumbled pumice-stone; we can scoop a grave for him there.”

We then raised the body and carried it to the place which Agnew had found. So emaciated was the poor dead sailor that his remains were no heavier than a small boy. On reaching the spot, we found the crumbled pumice-stone. We placed the body in a crevice among the lava rocks, and then I said what I could remember of the burial-service. After this we carried in our hands the crumbled pumice-stone until we had covered the body, and thus gave the poor fellow a Christian burial.

We then returned to the sh.o.r.e.

”More, old fellow,” said Agnew, ”I feel the better for this; the service has done me good.”

”And me too,” said I. ”It has reminded me of what I had forgotten.

This world is only a part of life. We may lose it and yet live on.

There is another world; and if we can only keep that in our minds we sha'n't be so ready to sink into despair--that is, I sha'n't. Despair is my weakness; you are more hopeful.”

”Yes,” said Agnew, solemnly; ”but my hope thus far has referred only to the safety of my skin. After this I shall try to think of my soul, and cultivate, not the hope of escape, but the hope full of immortality. Yes, More, after all we shall live, if not in England, then, let us hope, in heaven.”

There was a long silence after this--that kind of silence which one may preserve who is at the point of death.

”I wonder how he got here?” said Agnew, at last. ”The letter mentions a whaler. No doubt the s.h.i.+p has been driven too far south; it has foundered; he has escaped in a boat, either alone or with others; he has been carried along this channel, and has landed here, afraid to go any farther.”

”But his boat, what has become of that?”

”His boat! That must have gone long ago. The letter was written in 1820. At any rate, let's look around.”

We did so. After some search we found fragments of a rotted rope attached to a piece of rock.