Jan the Icelander/Chapter 6

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Meanwhile the service has been going on in the church, and the old sexton, his first duties as doorkeeper done, has slipped out at the lych gate and into the inn.

"Did you see the old gentleman in knee-breeches, landlord?" he says.

"Did I see him! Did I hear him, too! Lor' bless you, he axed me if the railway porter wasn't the post-boy, and didn't know the man in blue was the p'liceman. Ackshally! A man living in the nineteenth century, and he ain't got no acquaintance with the p'liceman."

"Shall I tell you who the old gentleman is, landlord?".

"If he ain't the man out of the moon I'll heat my 'ead with the 'air on."

"That's Larry Clough come horne again, said the sexton.

"Larry—what?"

"When I saw him pasting the gate I says to myself, 'That's old Father Clough come down off his monument,' says I."

The landlord makes a prolonged whistle.

"I'm jiggered! Thought I had seen the old Methuselah afore somewhere."

"But when I came to consider, I says to myself, says I, 'Who is so likely to grow into the spitting picture of his own father as his father's son? That's Larry Clough himself,' says I, 'as sure as the Lord A'mighty is a-sitting on his throne.' "

While this little scene is proceeding inside the inn young Harry Crow has drawn old Mary, the nurse, out of the house on the piazza.

"What was that you told your mistress about the watch the gentleman gave to the boy?" he says.

"I felt sure I had seen it before, sir," says the old nurse.

"You mean that it belonged to your old master?"

"Yes, sir, to the young master—his father left it to him." '

"And the gentleman himself— "

"He gave me quite a turn, sir."

"You thought it was your mistress's—"

"I thought it was Father Clough, sir."

At that moment Lucy comes out to them, much excited.

"You mustn't leave him so long alone," she says. He looks uneasy—I'm sure he thinks we suspect something."

"Suspect! Don't say suspect, Lucy, Where is he now?"

"Hush! He's coming."

The old man comes out of the house holding the child by the hand. At a glance he understands everything. The landlord and the sexton come to the door of the inn at the same moment, and he sees that they are looking across at him.

"Well," he says," I've been glad to have this peep of you in your own home, and of your lady and this dear little angel here,"

Henry says with constraint, "Why, you're not going to leave us yet!"

"I must. I only promised myself a flying visit, you know—I must be going now. When does your next coach leave, landlord?"

"Trains to London all day long, sir," says the landlord.

"But—but you're seen; nothing of England yet," says Harry.

"England goes too fast for an old hulk like me. I can't answer my helm, somehow, in the whirl and swirl of your busy country."

"But you must never go back to those lonely seas, sir," says Lucy. "Your health doesn't seem good, and besides—"

"It isn't either, but it will last my time out, you know."

Then, giving money to the landlord, he says,

"Take my bag across to Mr. Crow's, landlord. Only a few papers for you," he says, turning back to Harry.

Lifting the child, and kissing him, he says,

"Ta-ta, Jannie! Don't let the tick-tick run down, you know. Good day to you, friends! Good day to you all! Good day!"

As he goes off they stand watching him with bewildered looks. After a moment Harry seems to awake as from a dream.

"Lucy," he says, "it is your father. I see it all now. I understand everything. We must bring him back, and whether he is willing or not he must never leave us."

A few minutes later and Harry has returned, bringing the old man with him. Harry is laughingly wildly. The old man's face is very pale and haggard, but a great joy is expressed in it."

Lucy runs to meet them. "Father!" she cries.

"He had to confess—and he had to come back, too," says Harry.

"How cruel of him to leave us like that!" says Lucy. "He shan't leave us any more, though—he has come for good this time."

They lead him to the seat on the piazza, walking at either side, with their arms about him.

"I came to take a stolen glance at my dear children's happiness,"the old man says, "and now that I am found out I want to cry like a boy caught stealing apples. Do you forgive me, Lucy?"

"My poor father!"

"And do you forgive me, my son?"

"Forgive, indeed! Only listen to him, Lucy!"

"We've got such a sweet little room for you upstairs," says Lucy.

"And you and I have such lots of old tales to tell about our life on the Greenland seas," says Harry.

"How happy little Jannie will be, too," says Lucy. "He'll go to church with you every Sunday, and on week-days you'll take him to school in the morning and bring him home in the afternoon."

The old man listens to them with a brightening face.

"Go on, my children, go on! Your voices are like music to me. If I could only hear them a little longer."

"Do you still think you are going back?" says Harry. "Don't you imagine it! You are not going to spend another day on any durned old blubber-hunter that was ever built."

"You are right, my son," says the old man; "it is another kind of ship that I must sail in now—the eternal ship, that goes to the white world yonder."

The service is nearly over in the church. They are singing the Easter hymn.

"How strangely his faced has changed," says Lucy.

"Speak to him, Lucy," says her husband. Lucy drops to her knees before him.

"Father!"

"My child!"

"Are you ill, father?"

"No, dear, no; only a little sleepy. I've got a long journey done, dear, and I was thinking just then what a goodly company had come to sing the labourer home. Where is the boy? My boy?"

The nurse brings up the little one, and puts him into the old man's arms.

"My darling! My darling's darling's darling! Oh, It's nothing! Falling asleep is nothing! Only now that I've found you I feel like a tired child who isn't willing to go to bed, I want to stay up a little longer—. After all, we've been happy together for a moment, and that is a long time to me. I've thought of all this for years, and dreamt of it very often, so it seems to have lasted a lifetime. Yes, God is good."

"But you have known so much sorrow and suffering," says Harry, " you must live, and let us make it up to you for all that is past and gone."

"My son, you are forgetting something. But God does not forget—And Heaven is merciful—it has not suffered me to live long to trouble you— I remember a verse my father taught me, Listen—

  Fear no more the heat o' the sun,
  Nor the furious winter rages;
  Thou thy worldly task hast done.
  Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages.

He kisses the child on the forehead, and then his head falls gently backward as if in sleep, There is a smile on his face, and the child's arms are about his neck.

The bells begin to ring a merry peal for Easter Day, and the congregation comes out of the church.

The End.