Part 20 (1/2)
The sick man looked like an Englishman or an American; and Fairburn said that he had spoken English perfectly. He was dressed in a jacket made of dark-blue silk, his s.h.i.+rt was of the finest linen, and he had a rich sash round his waist; but the cut of his shoes was that of an ordinary seaman. A fine plaited straw hat lay by his side; and his hair, which was thick and curling, was already considerably grizzled.
”He has been s.h.i.+pwrecked, and is probably the only survivor of the crew,” I remarked. ”We must try and get him on board without delay.”
While I was making these remarks, it occurred to me that a draught of cold water might revive him; and remembering the spring we had pa.s.sed, I set off to procure some in a bamboo drinking-cup we had in the boat.
Meeting Prior, he turned back with me, and having observed some limes, he gathered some to squeeze into the water. We quickly returned, one of the men carrying a small breaker of water. On entering the cavern with the draught, I was glad to find that the sick man had again returned to consciousness. I put the cup to his lips, and as soon as he had tasted its contents, he drank them eagerly off, and then showed by signs that he wished for more. Prior had been engaged in squeezing more limes. He now approached nearer with them. I saw him start when he saw the stranger, and look earnestly at him; but he did not say a word, and kneeling down by his side, Prior gave him the refres.h.i.+ng draught he had prepared. It instantly had the effect of reviving the sick man, who looked up, and their eyes met. The latter, after staring with an amazed and inquiring look, let his head again drop, and appeared to be endeavouring to conceal his countenance with his hands, while Prior, taking me by the shoulder, led me out of the cavern. When we had got beyond hearing he stopped.
”Seaworth,” he said, ”who do you think is the man who lies there, on the point of death it would appear? Prepare yourself to hear, for you cannot guess. He is no other than the leader of the pirates who attacked my s.h.i.+p--the person who wounded me--the man of whom you are in search--the captain of the _Emu_. I recognised him at once; for we fought hand to hand, and there are some countenances which are impressed in a few moments on the memory. He, I suspect, for the same reason remembered me; for I believe I pressed him hard, and had not one of his companions come to his a.s.sistance, I should have taken his life. I tell you this at once, that you may be prepared how to act. He may have it in his power to communicate important information; but if we are not cautious in our proceedings, he may refuse to say anything.”
I was so astonished at what I had heard, that I could scarcely collect my thoughts sufficiently to answer.
”What would you advise me to do?” I asked. ”He may tell me of Eva but, alas! where can she be?”
”Trust that Providence has protected her,” he answered solemnly. ”But go and speak to him calmly and soothingly. There is, I fear, but little time to lose ere he will be called to his account.”
Following Prior's advice, I entered the cavern, and knelt down by the side of the sick man. He seemed resolved not to utter a word, and had returned no answers to the questions as to how he felt himself, which Fairburn, who was still ignorant as to who he was, was putting to him.
It struck me that he might be more inclined to speak to one person alone; I therefore requested Fairburn to quit the cabin, and to prepare some more lime-juice and water. I then turned to the pirate.
”I have to beg you to listen to me,” I began, speaking in a calm, low voice. ”In an extraordinary manner I have learned who you are; but though I believe you have inflicted the greatest injury on me, my religion has taught me to forgive my enemies. I therefore, from my heart, most sincerely, as far as I have the power, forgive you; nor will I in any way seek to revenge myself on you. I will now tell you who I am. My name is Mark Seaworth, and I am the brother of a little girl whom you have long had in your power. I therefore entreat you, as the best amends you can make me, to tell me where she is, and to afford me the means of recovering her and the lady who was with her.”
”I did not know such a feeling existed in this dark world,” he muttered, rather to himself than as if answering me. ”He forgives me without exacting any promise. Alas! he knows not what he has to forgive.”
”I forgive you from my heart, as I hope for forgiveness for my transgressions, when I stand in the presence of G.o.d; and I will pray that He too will forgive you for yours, even though you had inflicted a thousand injuries on me.”
”This is very wonderful--very wonderful indeed,” muttered the sick man.
”I never heard of such a thing.”
”It is the religion Christ came into the world to teach mankind,” I answered. ”He sets us the example, by promising forgiveness to the greatest of sinners who believe in Him, and who put their faith in Him, even at the tenth hour, like the thief on the cross. He tells us also to pray for our enemies; then, surely, I am but following his commands when I forgive you. I would say more of these things to you--I would entreat you to believe in that merciful Saviour, and to pray to Him for forgiveness; but I am a brother; I earnestly long to discover my lost sister, and I must first beg you to tell me all you know of her.”
”Sir, you have strangely moved me,” said the pirate, in a hoa.r.s.e voice, turning his countenance towards me. ”I own that I am the man you suppose, the pirate, Richard Kidd, as great a wretch as one who, years ago, bore that name. You tell me that you forgive me; but if you knew the injury I have inflicted on you for years back, I doubt that you could do so.”
”For years back!” I answered, in astonishment. ”I do not understand you; yet I say, whatever the injury, I am bound to forgive you, and with G.o.d's a.s.sistance I do so. But my sister? Tell me of my sister.”
”Then, sir, you are such a Christian as I remember, when a boy, I was told men should be; but you are the first I ever met. You would learn what has become of the little girl, Eva Seaworth, as she was called.
Alas! I cannot tell you. The only good action I ever in my life attempted has been frustrated. I had preserved your little sister from all injury, and intended to have restored her to her friends in safety, when I lost her.”
”Explain, explain,” I cried in a tone of agony. ”Do not you know where she is?”
”Indeed I do not,” was the answer. It struck a chill into my heart; and a stranger coming in would have found it difficult to say which of the two was the dying man.
”Can you give me no clue--can you not conjecture where she is?” I at length asked.
”Indeed I cannot, sir,” he answered. ”I have no reason to suppose her dead; but I am utterly unable to tell you where she now is.”
”What! my sweet little sister! you deserted her!--wretch!” I cried, scarcely knowing what I said, and wringing my hands with the bitterness of heart. The next moment I regretted the exclamation.
”You wrong me there,” said the pirate. ”I deeply mourn for her loss, as you will understand shortly. But my time is short. I have resolved to give you some important information I possess respecting you; and as your companions may be useful, as witnesses of what I say, call them back. I will endeavour to make what little recompense I can, for some of what I may look on as the smallest of my many crimes; and then I will get you to talk to me about that religion I have so long neglected. I must give you something of my history; for, strange as you may deem it, it is much mixed up with yours.”
”What!” I exclaimed, interrupting him, with astonishment, ”your history mixed up with mine! Can you give an account of who I am?”
”Indeed I can, sir; and may put you in the way of regaining rights, of which you have long been deprived. But hasten, summon your friends; you have no time, I feel, to lose.”